A GLANCE IN THE MIRROR
Writing for Machop. 5212 Characters, 5k minimum. RATED PG-13 FOR CURSING AND BLOOD.
I looked in the mirror, not quite sure what to expect. The mere shadow of what I once was stared back at me, forcing me to flinch as I realized what I had become. I forced my eyes shut, no longer able to look at myself. The beginning of a five-o’clock shadow had just touched my face, and at that moment I simply couldn’t take it. A tiny teardrop danced down my cheek as I sat down, indulging myself in what I had once been….
“Fight!” the announcer called. I looked around, seeing the fans screaming my name as I grinned back at them. I raised my gloves, turning to make sure that my partner and I were in sync. Machamp grinned back to me, his four arms primed and ready to fight. He had stuck with me my whole life, as far as I could remember. We had spent our entire lives together training for this one moment, working up the ladder to where we were. It was the biggest wrestling match in all of Unova, and our opponents didn’t look too tough at all. A shrimpy little guy stood on the other side of the ring, and a little Tyrogue next to him. I sprinted towards his partner as I shook the jitters out of my well-toned body, aiming a left hook right for its scrawny chest. With unexpected speed, the bugger grabbed my glove and blocked my attack, leaving me helpless as my grey companion tackled the human. His opponent had a devilish smirk on his face as Machamp tried to pick him up, but the guy’s lithe frame allowed him to slip out, rolling onto the mat and getting back up with a laugh, beckoning towards his Tyrouge to bring me forward. The little purple thing threw me to his owner with little effort, and I felt helpless as I flailed about, the boos of the crowd echoing through my ears.
“Machamp! Help me out!” I called, desperate to stop my embarrassment. He quickly turned pale as he saw my predicament, then his expression changed. His grey skin turned an unpleasant crimson as he charged towards us, his eyes blinded by rage. Tyrogue howled as the four-armed Pokemon yanked him up and threw him out of the ring, no longer listening to anyone. Tyrogue’s trainer let me down with a yelp, obviously scared of my enraged partner. I tried to calm him down, knowing at around me people were asking each other, “What’s going on?”. The announcer looked frightened; his face was lifeless and dull as he watched the other fighting pokemon hit the metal barricade with devastating force. Its skull fractured as it died instantly, a shower of red hot blood splattering onto the faces of the horrified fans. All hell broke loose as the wrestling fans abandoned the stadium, Machamp ripping me out of the poor guy’s hands. He laid me down as he grabbed the man, smashing his face in as he chucked the corpse into the stands. Only the grim faced announcer remained there as Machamp looked at me with a grin, happy to have saved me. I looked at him with a suppressed frown as I heard the sirens coming from all sides, knowing that my wrestling career was over. The last thing I remembered was the sound of guns firing and one final “Machamp…mach-“.
I snapped back into reality, still bitter about what had happened. When I opened my eyes, I realized that I had fell onto the floor, the tiles in the bathroom cold and desolate. I turned the knob and hobbled out, not feeling too great. The house was clean and luxurious, but I did not recognize it as my own. I looked around the room, seeing just one door and a glass wall that looked out to a beautiful sunrise. I could just see the sun rising over the hills as the room slowly illuminated, a tall chandelier just grazing the top of my head. The faint smell of chemical cleaners told me that it had been cleaned recently, and it really looked like the house of a champion. That was a load of bullshit; ever since the accident, I had not been able to do much of anything. For the last few years, I had been living off my winnings from those days. Since then, I had not said or thought of my old partner.
“Ah, fuck…I can’t live like this,” I said to myself, listening to my voice echo through the place. Although it was nice, the house screamed of desolation. I seemed to be the only person in it; well it was my house, after all. Even if I didn’t recognize it, the sole photo on the wall reminded me why I was there. It was a picture from before the accident, with Machamp and I deep in a match. It was the time of my life, but even I could not forgive what he had done. My sleep after the death of those poor two haunted me, and I would never forget it. A knock on the door interrupted my thinking, forcing me to walk. I trudged along the imported rug, finally reaching the door. Opening it with a yawn, I quickly shut it and gasped. Outside my door was a little baby Machop, still in a tiny little crib. I opened it just a crack, seeing a note stuck to the top of the handle. Yanking it off, I shut the door and unfolded the note, still nervous. It was written in haste, and its message was quick.
“Your Machamp went crazy because it was pregnant. This little guy is rightfully yours.”
I sighed deeply, not sure what I wanted to do. Opening the door again, I grabbed the crib and brought it inside, noting its already-developed moments. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad…