Guilty by Design
Just a few notes... no matter how much I try to improve this fic, I always have people nitpicking at it. The main one I get is not enough description in settings. This is just the way I write; I assume that most people will picture houses and forests to have a similar, general look. This story is VERY loosely based off the anime episode, "The Punchy Pokemon", but seeing it is not required to read the story. I forgot Anthony's name and call him Rick, though they are the same person. I enjoy thoughtful reviews; I neither like short ones that lack content or horribly nitpicky ones that point out how I mix my tenses up or some trivial crap like that. So read on and have fun...
GUILTY BY DESIGN
By Katelyn, aka Iveechan
Chapter one: Blank Slate
He watched the small modest house with intense golden eyes. His claws dug into the cold earth, his muscles tensed, his heart pounded angrily. In that house was the man who ruined his life. The latch on the door began to twist. Now was his chance for revenge...
Five years prior...
"Remember when it hatches, let it see you first. That way it will become more attached."
"Yes, I know."
The breeder, a young man with pleasant blue hair, led a tall thirty something year old man with short earthen hair named Rick and his young braided daughter, Rebecca, to the spacious incubation room. It housed rows upon rows of pink, geletanious Ditto eggs. The eggs contained some of the rarest Pokemon known to man, including ones yet to be named. The breeder picked one of the eggs up.
"Here it is," he said in a voice low enough as not to disturb the egg's occupant. "This egg contains a Tyrogue. The father was a powerful Hitmonlee, a champion fighter. This one has good blood."
The breeder handed Rick the egg. The surface was warm and soft. "When will it hatch?" Rick questioned.
"Any day now," said the breeder. "Just keep it under a heat lamp in a quiet room and it'll be fine...and you have to be in the newborn's presence when it hatches. You have no idea how many Pokemon came out traumatized when there was no caretaker in site at the time of their birth."
"No problem!" Rick beamed. The breeder handed Rick the egg in a special box that would prevent it from rolling around. Rick wrote out the check...$2,973.95.
Rebecca sighed. 'There goes my college education,' she thought.
Almost a week had passed. Rebecca was in the kitchen with the pink egg was set snugly in a bed of towels on the table. She adjusted the red-lighted heat lamp and turned the egg over. It was surprisingly heavy, about four pounds.
"It should've hatched by now!" she heard Rick yell from another room. "That damn breeder, I should demand my money back!" The egg flinched - a reaction to outside commotion.
"I'm sure it will be tonight!" said Rebecca, a bit annoyed by her father's impatience. She stoked the egg's smooth surface. 'Please let it be tonight...we depend on you,' she thought.
About a year ago, Rebecca's mother, the sole breadwinner of the family, was killed in a car accident. Rick had been deeply depressed and near suicidal ever since the tragic incident. He was too upset to even hold a decent job. One day, as if a beacon of hope had shined on him, Rick saw a sign for the P-1 Grand Prix, a Pokemon tournament specializing in Fighting types that was held every four years. The winner recieved a rather large cash prize, among other things. With only six months to go until the next tournament, Rick decided that he had to get himself a good Pokemon quickly, so he invested his life savings into the egg he hoped would get his family out of their rut.
Suddenly, Rebecca noticed a jerk of movement out of the corner of her eye. She gasped as she realized the egg was beginning to hatch. A tear appeared across the surface and translucent pink liquid poured out. Rebecca shot up. "Daddy, it's hatching, come quick!"
Rick raced into the room, almost tripping. "Don't let it see you, don't let it see you!"
Rebecca moved out of the way. They watched the egg intently. A short face began to make its way out, and in a diving position the rest of the Tyrogue slipped out, laying huddled in a curled position. Rick was so overjoyed, he picked the little humanoid up in one hand and held it to the light to get a better look at it. The soaked Tyrogue squirmed in his strong grip. Unlike the more reconizeable fighter, the hatchling had almost no crest definition, was more of a dust rose tone with paler coloration on the belly, and its proportions resembled that of a newborn monkey. It had a short lizard-like tail and its feet looked almost like a small dinosaur's, the four clawed toes were shorter on the outside and longer on the inside. A bit of fluid streamed from the mouth as the newborn gasped for air.
"Look at him, Rebecca," said Rick. "He may look like a scrawny runt now, but one day he will make us rich! I think I'll name him Champ... does that sound good?"
"He'll be dead if you don't let me clean him off!" Rebecca said. She was quite knowledgable about Pokemon births, thanks to her free-roaming pet Meowth who presented her with a fresh litter of kittens every few months.
Rick waited a few moments. "Ok, he opened his eyes, so he should be imprinted on me now! Here you go, be careful."
Rebecca gathered the Tyrogue up in a thick towel and vigorously rubbed off the liquid. Then, making sure her grip was secure, gave one quick shake to get the remaining fluid out of the Tyrogue's lungs. He cried out, his shrill squeal sounding like a bird's chirp.
"Oi...kinda earpiercing, huh?" Rick laughed. He looked at the clock. "Wow, it sure is late. Let's go to bed, I should wake up early to start training Champ."
"Training so soon?" Rebecca questioned. "But he won't even be a full day old!"
"The sooner the better!" said Rick. He took the towel wrapped Tyrogue from his daughter, scowling a bit at the gentle appearance of his drowsy form. "You better be worth what I payed for, Champ. Good night, Becca!"
"Good night Daddy!" Rebecca has never seen her father so happy and hopeful before. She hoped it would last...
The next morning, eager to see the baby Tyrogue, Rebecca galloped down the steps, sounding more like a Tauros stampede than a young girl. As she entered the cheery kitchen, she was surprised to see her father grizzled and unshaven and clad in an aged robe. 'I guess daddy decided not to train early afterall,' Rebecca observed in her mind. She then smiled when she noticed the little Tyrogue, Champ, perched in Rick's lap, eating a peach. He would bite down firmly, pull his head back until a good sized chunk was yanked out, then swallow it whole. Rebecca noticed Champ had a cloth wrap around his waist, a old custom which stemmed from the belief that the center of the body is the most important and should always be kept warm.
"So did you decide not to train him yet afterall?" Rebecca asked as she streched her fingers out to stroke Champ. He yelped and flinched at her touch as though she were poison. Rebecca was a bit offended by the reaction, yet her father paid no mind.
"Huh? Oh, no, thanks for the reminder!" He abruptly stood up, causing Champ to grip onto his robe for dear life. The Tyrogue slid down and hit the floor with a soft thud.
"Be careful!" said Rebecca. She scrambled to help Champ, but he leered at her as he clutched Rick's pants leg possesively. Rebecca understood that Champ trusted only Rick since he recognized the human as his parent, but it still upset Rebecca a tad that the Tyrogue seemed to dislike her.
"Hey Rebecca, watch this!" said Rick. He took a few steps and paused. Champ quickly followed Rick and stopped right next to him, looking up with anticipation. "This imprinting really works! Ok, buddy, time to train!"
After Rick quickly got dressed, he and Champ entered the back yard. Champ froze the moment he reached the back porch. The bright natural sunlight was a stark contrast to the more appealing dullness of the inside of the house. He blinked a bit until he noticed Rick a good distance away, then leapt down off the porch, eager to catch up. Champ suddenly leapt back the moment his soft bare feet touched the grass. The prickly sensation startled him, but now he was a bit fascinated. Champ got down to his knees and cautiosly touched a bright green blade, watching it gently sway. Before the young Tyrogue could investigate further, Rick had doubled back to pick Champ up and made his way to their short destination. Champ, feeling secure in his trainer's grip, nuzzled into his shirt. The chirping of the bird Pokemon were a bit frightening compared to the house's relative silence, but as long as he was with Rick, Champ felt safe. Eventually, they arrived in a roomy shed nestled in the trees of the yard's border, and Rick set Champ down in front of a large punching bag that was hung from the ceiling.
"Ok, Champ, see this thing?" Rick said to the little Pokemon. Champ was mesmerized by the tiny dust particles gently floating in the sunlight. They were so interesting...where did they come from?
"Champ? Hello! Good, got your attention. Now, this thing...Champ!"
Champ clumsily wandered to the ray of light just barely shining through a dusty window. The dust particles continued to dance in their clear yellow ballroom. Champ reached for them...
"Dammit," Rick said quiety under his breath. He swiftly stormed over to Champ and grabbed him around the waist, his fingers pressing into Champ's belly, then angrily dropped him infront of the bag. Champ blinked and looked around, surprised and confused by that sudden swift action.
"Ok, good," said Rick. "Now, do as I do. First you stand with your arms like this, then..."
Champ suddenly noticed an interesting tear in the bag. A long piece of dark string was dangling from it. Champ touched the string, pulling at it with his short fingers.
Suddenly, WHACK! Something struck Champ on the side of his head. The force caused him to collide painfully against the hard concrete floor. Champ looked up and cowered when he saw how's Rick's normally placid face had distorted into anger, his sharp eyes glaring, teeth tightly clenched.
"Look, stupid, do as I say or I'll hit you again!" Rick snarled.
"Ty?" Champ questioned.
Rick yanked Champ up by the arm and set him in front of the bag again. Rick took a fighting stance, his fists near his face, and then gave the bag a punch so strong, it swung wildly and a cloud of dust flew out. He looked at Champ, who had forgotten about the slight sting of having his arm pulled. "Now, you do the same."
Champ imitated Rick exactly. After he punched the bag also, he looked at his trainer for approval. Rick seemed pleased. Champ bounced in glee as the warmth of pleasing his trainer erased his shock of fearing the man.
"Good! Now do it again. Good, good, now do it with more power. No, I said more power. More power I say!"
Later that evening, Rick and Champ returned to the house. Rebecca was in the kitchen sitting on a stool near the stove, waiting for the pot of water to boil. She smiled when she saw her father enter.
"I'm glad you're finally back! You must be famished, you were out there all day! How's Champ doing?"
Rebecca jumped down, ran up to the Tyrogue, and knelt to his level. She gasped in surprise. He was covered in dirt, scrapes decorated on his body, and a dark greenish purple bruise was forming around his eye. Champ backed away from Rebecca, pressed himself against Rick's leg and growled.
"He doesn't listen half the time," said Rick. "This runt was a waste of money."
"He's only a day old!" protested Rebecca. "Give him time, he'll get better! You can't expect him to become a champion over night!"
"He better be a damn good fighter by the tournament," said Rick as he scooted Champ away with his foot. "I'll have to train him harder tomorrow!"