"Right here," a voice, rough and muffled by a mask, declared through the downpour. "Heavy rain washed away most tracks, yeah, but not enough to fool my eyes."
"That Scyther... prime merchandise," another voice, slightly higher-pitched and equally masked, replied with smug satisfaction. "Didn't expect our luck to be this good. Easy pickings."
Two figures, clad in identical black rain slickers, materialized out of the storm-lashed darkness before Xiu's battered cabin. Their faces were concealed behind cheap, cartoonish Pokémon masks – one resembling a Charmander, the other perhaps a Squirtle. They surveyed the damaged structure with casual disregard, radiating an unnerving confidence.
Trailing behind them, barely visible in the sheeting rain, were their own Pokémon: a three-headed Dodrio and a long, menacing Arbok.
"Hmph. A flimsy shack like this? It won't even slow down my Pokémon," the first masked figure sneered.
"Seems we're being underestimated," the second added with a dry chuckle.
They didn't bother checking for occupants, didn't hesitate. With curt commands, they ordered their Pokémon forward.
"Dodrio, Drill Peck!"
The Dodrio surged ahead, its long, powerful legs churning through the mud, seemingly unaffected by the treacherous ground or the driving rain. Its three heads snapped forward in unison, long beaks parallel, beginning to spin rapidly. A sharp white aura enveloped them, intensifying as the Pokémon accelerated, transforming into a streaking white projectile that slammed into the already damaged cabin wall.
CRASH!
Wood splintered explosively. The flimsy planks offered no resistance. The Dodrio punched clean through, landing inside the wrecked interior amidst a shower of debris.
The two poachers stepped casually through the ragged hole, raincoats shedding water. They scanned the messy interior – overturned table, scattered belongings, damp floorboards. No sign of the Scyther.
"Quilt's still warm," the first poacher noted, prodding the bedcovers with a booted foot. "Can't have gone far."
"Footprints here," the second pointed towards the muddy floor near the back wall. "Heading that way."
A brief assessment, a shared nod. Without another word, they turned and plunged back out into the storm, following the faint trail, their Pokémon close behind.
Moments after they vanished into the rain, the surface of the water storage pit beside the cabin – the one Xiu used for boiling water – churned violently. A figure coated head-to-toe in thick, viscous mud emerged, sputtering. It spat out a thin reed – a makeshift breathing tube – and wiped the clinging mud from its face, revealing Xiu.
'Too close.' Time had been desperately short. He knew running blindly was futile; they would have caught him easily. Scyther was injured, Happiny was useless in a fight, leaving only Abra. Against two poachers and their Pokémon? No chance.
He needed to buy time, misdirect them. His only option had been deception. He'd quickly bundled Scyther back into its Poké Ball, then deliberately made tracks leading away from the cabin towards the deeper woods. Then, doubling back under the cover of the storm, he'd used Abra's Telekinesis to lift him silently back to the cabin grounds and lower him into the muddy water pit, pulling a layer of muck over himself for concealment.
Now, shivering from cold and residual fear, he knew he had to move. The misdirection wouldn't last long. He needed protection. Real protection.
The main gate, the official park security, was the safest destination, but it was miles away. Walking, even running, through this storm, potentially with poachers still active in the area, was too dangerous.
He needed a closer 'thigh to hug,' as the saying went. A powerful ally nearby. 'The Kangaskhan.' It was the closest, strongest Pokémon he knew personally. His best bet.
Wiping more mud from his face, Xiu checked the three Poké Balls clipped securely to his belt – Abra, Happiny, Scyther. He released Abra again – its psychic senses might detect danger he couldn't see – and then, ignoring the biting wind and rain, began slogging through the mud towards the hill where the Kangaskhan resided.
— — —
Deeper within the storm-lashed forest, a different kind of chaos unfolded. Wild Pokémon, startled from their nests and burrows by the tempest, found themselves driven, herded, not by the wind, but by shadowy figures emerging from the downpour. Poachers, using the storm as cover, were flushing Pokémon out, funneling them towards capture points.
These weren't the pokémon conditioned and used to human presence. They were the wilder, more timid ones. But living within the park's "no fighting" zone meant their combat instincts were dulled, their powers less honed. Facing organized, ruthless hunters, they were easy prey. The situation was terrifyingly one-sided.
"Hahaha! Jackpot tonight!"
"Look at 'em run! Scared stiff, ain't they?"
"Damn, my balls are full already! Lend me some spares?"
"Get lost! Fill your own quota and clear out! Don't get in my way!"
Hidden behind a thick curtain of rain-soaked ferns, Xiu lay flat on the muddy ground, peering through the gloom. He'd stumbled upon another group of poachers, brazenly netting terrified Pokémon – Rattata, Pidgey, Oddish, anything that moved. His heart pounded with a mixture of anger and fear. 'How many of them are there!? Invading like this...!'
He pressed himself lower, praying he hadn't been seen. Engaging was suicide. He was alone, barely equipped, his Pokémon either injured or too young. Getting involved now would achieve nothing but getting himself killed. 'I need to find Kangaskhan...'
Waiting until the poachers moved on, deeper into the woods with their captured prizes, Xiu cautiously rose and continued his desperate trek towards the hillside, a silent prayer echoing in his mind: 'Please let Kangaskhan be okay. Please let it still be there.'
— — —
The storm raged, transforming the park's familiar landscape into something wild and primal. Rain hammered down, turning streams into torrents, paths into quagmires. Most Pokémon huddled in whatever shelter they could find, enduring nature's fury.
But not all.
At a secluded lake somewhere within the park's boundaries, its surface churned white by the downpour, a slender, serpentine form danced upon the waves. A blue figure, impossibly elegant, twisted and coiled through the deluge, seeming to revel in the storm's power. The waterfall feeding the lake, swollen by the rain into a roaring cascade, served as a dramatic backdrop to its solitary ballet. Dragonair.
"There you are," a voice murmured, cutting through the roar of the storm. A man emerged from the treeline near the lake's edge, stepping out into the rain. He wore the standard black hunter windbreaker, but his mask was shaped like a Charmander's head. "Only showing yourself in weather like this. Such power... the ability to influence the storm itself. Truly one of nature's favored. No wonder the bounty is so high..."
Oddly, the torrential rain seemed to part around him, deviating just before contact, leaving his clothes inexplicably dry. It was as if he stood within an invisible bubble.
The Dragonair, hearing the voice, ceased its elegant movements. It turned slowly, its long, graceful body coiling slightly, regarding the intruder with intelligent, ruby-red eyes. The small, feathered wings on its head twitched. The pearl-like orb set beneath its neck pulsed with a soft, internal light. Compared to its cuter Dratini stage, Dragonair possessed an undeniable aura of power and grace, bordering on draconic majesty. It showed no fear, only wary assessment.
Energy began to gather, crackling visibly around the small horn on Dragonair's forehead. The orb on its neck glowed brighter, emitting waves of blue energy. With a surge, a concentrated beam of intense cold shot forth – Ice Beam – aimed directly at the masked man.
However, the man didn't flinch— didn't even dodge. He simply stood there as the beam raced towards him. Just as the freezing energy was about to connect, the rainstorm itself seemed to stir beside him. A massive, scaled tail, thick as a tree trunk, whipped out from the deluge, intercepting the Ice Beam with contemptuous ease. The beam struck the scales, exploding into a cloud of white mist, causing no apparent harm to whatever the tail belonged to.
Before the mist could fully dissipate, obscuring the scene, the tail's owner revealed itself. A colossal Gyarados, easily twice the size of a normal specimen, materialized beside the masked man, its serpentine body coiled menacingly, emitting a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the air.
But the Ice Beam hadn't been solely an attack. The ensuing cloud of mist had been cover. By the time it cleared, the lake's surface was empty save for the churning rain. The Dragonair had vanished.
The masked man showed no surprise, no frustration. "Catch it," he commanded softly, his voice devoid of emotion.
Dragonair, sensing the overwhelming power disparity, hadn't hesitated. It had dived deep into the lake the moment the mist provided cover, using the swollen currents to propel itself downstream, into the network of rivers fed by the lake. The churning, debris-filled water obscured its passage perfectly. Even Dragonair itself likely didn't know exactly where the current was taking it, trusting the storm-fueled river to carry it far away. This lake was the source of a major water system within the park, branching into multiple rivers that eventually flowed out towards the sea.
Logically, the masked man should have hesitated, unsure which path his prey had taken. But he didn't. Without a pause, he turned and headed decisively along one specific riverbank, the massive Gyarados slithering silently beside him through the mud and rain.
Tracking was a fundamental skills that all decent hunters possess, relying on more than just chance— any hunter incapable of following their prey, even under adverse conditions, wouldn't last long in this business. They had their methods and special skills.
And he was very, very good at what he did.