Chapter 32: Scyther's revenge

May and Alan were still waiting for him, and had apparently been talking but had nothing more to say so they now just sat there and stared into nowhere. Sandslash was there too, and Mark saw that Charizard was just returning. He waited, and Dragonair returned soon, as well as Jolteon who had seemingly enjoyed himself a lot. But Scyther didn’t return.
After waiting for quite a while, Mark stood up.
“I’m going into the forest to search for him,” he announced. May looked up.
“Don’t take too long,” she just said.
Mark walked into the forest. This part of it was thick, dark and creepy. Mark wondered if it had been a good idea to go into the forest without his pokémon...
He wandered into the forest, and in the end he saw Scyther.
Scyther turned and quickly hid his scythes behind his back. Mark walked towards him.
“What are you hiding?”
Scyther didn’t say anything. Mark leaned to the side to see, but Scyther turned. Before he did, however, Mark caught a glimpse of red.
He quickly looked around. Behind Scyther, there was a bush, and in between the branches, he saw something white. He observed it better, and after peering at it for a few seconds, he saw what it was.
A shoe.
His heart started beating, then he said weakly:
“Scyther! You’ve killed someone!”
“No,” said Scyther in his usual voice.
“Don’t lie to me,” said Mark, his voice shaking. “The body’s right there!”
“He’s not dead,” Scyther said, still in that stupidly calm tone. How dare he, Mark thought, how dare he speak about this in that voice...
“Who is this?” Mark asked.
“Scizor’s trainer,” Scyther said hatefully.
“Scizor’s?” Mark asked blankly.
Hers,” Scyther said in the same tone.
“What are you doing, anyway, that kept you for so long?”
“I told you, he’s not dead,” said Scyther. “Not yet.”
Mark got a sting in his stomach. Trembling, he asked:
“Do you mean... you’re trying to kill him?”
“Yes,” said Scyther.
Mark’s image of Scyther as this vicious-looking guy who’d still never hurt anyone was ruined by that one answer.
“What... why didn’t you kill him already if that’s what you were trying to...”
“He deserves more suffering than a quick throat-cut,” Scyther hissed, his eyes narrowing. “I’m making him bleed to death.”
“But we have to do something! Call an ambulance...”
“Do we have to?” Scyther interrupted.
What was left of Mark’s former image of Scyther shattered to pieces.
“Of course we have to! I’m not a murderer! Trainers are responsible for what their pokémon do!”
“I did not do this to get you into trouble, Mark,” said Scyther. “I... had to. I just saw him walk here, and I had to.”
“You didn’t ‘have to’!”
“Mark!” Scyther thundered. “You don’t understand this, do you? Half of me loves her, half of me hates her. At the moment I hate her. But the whole of me hates him, one half for evolving the Scyther I cared most about in life, the other half for making me hate her. And when not a single moment passes when I don’t think about her, not a single moment passes when I don’t think about my hate for him, I loathe this human who did this to me...”
Mark suddenly remembered what he had witnessed this morning. He remembered Scyther’s tears and the way he had hugged the sleeping bag while he said “I hate you”. His pity returned.
“Love?” he whispered. “Can love be this lethal? Can extreme hate and a murder be caused by... love?”
Mark was still shocked, but he wasn’t angry at Scyther anymore.
“Yes, we need to call an ambulance. May has a cellphone in her pokégear, we just need to go back.”
Mark walked a few steps forward, but Scyther didn’t follow.
“I can’t go with you,” he said. “My scythes have blood on them. I need to clean them.”
“You’re coming,” Mark just said.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“What if someone walks past? What if someone discovers him, and there turns out to be a trainer who has a Scyther with blood on his scythes just round the corner?”
Mark paused. “I’ll wait for you,” he then said.
“You can’t do that either. Someone could come here. A lot of people go between Green town and Stormy town. If you went and someone came and saw me cleaning my scythes, I could just pretend I’m a wild Scyther.”
“Come,” Mark repeated.
“Mark, you are going to get into trouble.”
Get my hint, Scyther, Mark thought, get my hint...
“What would I think you will do if I went and left you with a person you want to kill?”
“I won’t,” said Scyther.
“Can you promise that?”
“No,” Scyther answered.
“And why not?”
“I don’t make promises. It’s the only way to be sure that I’ll never be forced to break any.”
“You’re coming. Now,” Mark just said.
“No,” said Scyther. “Oh, and tell them he was attacked by a wild Sneasel. There’s a plenty of them around here. Also tell them that you left me here to make sure the Sneasels didn’t get to him again, or some other pokémon that could be attracted by the smell of blood.”
“Come,” Mark said yet again.
“Mark, get down to earth. No matter what you tell them, they’re never going to believe you if you hold a Scyther with bloody scythes in one of your pokéballs, especially not when a DNA test shows that it’s the blood of the victim.”
“I could tell them the truth,” Mark simply said.
“Mark... when a pokémon kills or attempts to kill a human, do you know what they do if the trainer can not be held responsible, as you are clearly hoping?” Scyther asked and glared at Mark. He shook his head.
“They get rid of the pokémon. For good. Because pokémon who attack humans could be dangerous to their surroundings, according to the laws in this country. You know what getting rid of somebody means, I trust?”
Mark swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Is that what you want? Would you prefer that over trusting my word that I won’t touch him while you’re away?”
Mark stared at Scyther. After all, had he ever lied? Had he ever not been faithful to Mark?
He took a deep breath, turned and then broke into a run.


This is the last chapter of the story at the moment, but check back soon for more!

Back to pokémon stories

Back to home