To try to save the world; such a task was foolhardy. It, in and of itself was an impossibility. The world maintained a natural balance that was only destroyed by an outside force. Balance was kept in check by evolution, but yet that evolution itself was flawed, throwing things out of balance. The only way to correct for such evolution was to continue to evolve with the possibility of achieving perfect balance. But to allow for evolution was to allow for things to run their course, and to save the world required to interfere with life's natural course. To save the world meant to achieve balance. To save the world meant to interfere with the natural course. To save the world meant to interfere with balance.

The sound of crickets wandered through the air, and Batoy awoke groggily. The ground was soaked from the near continuous drizzle, and just barely through the high canopy of the trees, he could see the hazy sky, light grey as it stubbornly refused to give way to the sun. “Ugh… what happened?” he moaned as he sat up, rubbing away the migraine that suddenly plagued him. His thoughts were foggy, and he could only remember feelings of elation and then fear.

“Hey, you're up.” Batoy glanced over at the voice and saw Tim. The boy was hunched over the unconscious body of the Charizard and slowly stroking it. He rubbed his head with his other hand. “Charizard's exhausted. The storm was something else…” Tim shook his head, as if he was trying to rid himself of an unpleasant memory. “It was something else… probably as close to hell on Earth as you can get.”

“Storm?” Batoy asked dumbly, still rubbing his head. His clothes were soaked, but he hadn't noticed yet. “I can't remember… what happened?”

Tim glanced to the side. “Well… when your Flygon tried to bust through, its Hyper Beam ended up just making the tornadoes worse. Charizard and I got sucked underwater, and he almost died.” Tim paused and glanced towards the slow breathing dragon. The fla me at the tip of its tail was small and weak. “Aerodactyl got Mia to shore okay, but the tornado just threw you and your Flygon. I wasn't sure if you were gonna make it.”

Ever so slowly, as Batoy stared blankly, his memories slowly returned. The swirling air, the howling air, being engulfed by the tornado; all of it returned to him. “Vert?! Vert?! Where's Vert?!” he said suddenly, frantically looking around. Tim opened his mouth to speak, but Batoy had already spotted the green Pokemon lying on its stomach, completely unconscious. Stumbling over to it, Batoy rested a hand on the Flygon's head. “Oh, Vert, I'm so sorry!” he said, tears dripping down his cheeks.

“Hey, calm down!” Tim said. “It's not dead, just knocked out! That thing's a real trooper, and I don't think we would've managed to get out of there otherwise. You should be really proud of it.”

Batoy glanced down at the Flygon and smiled weakly. “I am…”

“Anyways, Mia's doing well. Aerodactyl managed to get her here safely. She's resting over there.” He thrust a thumb over his shoulder. Underneath the draped wing of a sleeping Aerodactyl laid Mia, asleep on a pile of dried pine needles comprising the only bit of land that remained dry through the light drizzle. Though she was breathing softly now, her cheeks were still very flushed. “She'll be a little better once she gets some rest, but we still have to get her to shelter. She'll just get worse if she stays out in the wet like this.”

Batoy nodded slowly, completely and utterly bewildered. His mind suddenly ran a complete blank; he should be feeling something, but there was nothing but an empty void inside him. He was in complete shock, hearing Tim but not understanding. He shrank down beside the Flygon, rubbing the Pokemon's neck with such idleness and a blank stare to match that one would think he'd lost his mind. Far too many things had happened at once, and he couldn't sort it out fast enough. Perhaps if he stayed right there, the answers would eventually come to him.

The minutes passed far too slowly so that they seemed to blaze past. Time ceased to exist as Batoy sat there. If an hour had passed, or maybe it had only been a minute, it would not have mattered. Almost autonomously, Batoy rose and though Tim looked up, he didn't seem to notice. Moments passed, and neither spoke a word. If there was unspoken communication between them, it was not obvious to a passerby, though there were none to speak of. And just as autonomously as he'd risen, Batoy turned and stalked off into the deep woods without so much as a whisper of complaint from Tim.

However long he walked, it was quite apparent by the time Batoy snapped out of his drawl that he was completely lost. A swift intake of air took the place of a gasp as the carrot-headed boy whipped around frantically, the tall, thick evergreens looking so much more hostile than they had earlier. His sneakers stumbled through the moist reddened pine needles, and after a few anxious moments of turning, he'd kicked clear a small circle in the ground, revealing wet mud that had not seen the light of day in years. His frantic turning disoriented him, and not only did he not know where he was, he did not know from which direction he'd come.

“Crap,” he muttered to himself, now aware of his shivering body. He was soaked and the air was chilled with a fine mist that wrapped the trees in a shimmering veil. His breath floated softly in front of him, visible only by the thin wisps that curled into the air before vanishing. Besides his own breath, he could hear nothing, not even the sound of crickets. He considered bringing out one of his Pokemon, but decided against it. There were probably still too tired from the competition that seemed so long ago. He would find his own way back.

He took a step, and was greeted by a swift rustle that barely caught his ear. Was that his foot? He took another step, looking down, but as the rustle came again, it was apparent that it had not come from his sneakers pressing against the dead pine needles. He looked around, his breath becoming rapid with fear. The rustle grew louder all of a sudden, and Batoy could hear the scratching of claws against the ground. Where was it coming from? Was it to his left? His right? No, it was from behind!

A blindingly hot flash of pain spread from the small of his back as something bludgeoned him with tremendous momentum. “GAH!!” Batoy cried as the force of impact sent him sprawling wildly to the ground where he bounced and rolled until he finally came to a rough halt against a tree. He laid still, his mind reeling from both the shock of being attacked and the intense burning pain that numbed his arms and legs. Wincing, he slowly pulled himself up until his back was against the tree, and he glanced at his assailant.

If he'd been expecting a massive creature, he was poorly mistaken. The reptilian Pokemon before him stood nearly three feet tall, glaring at him with adamant yellow eyes. The three needle-like leaves on its forearms unraveled and flatted, becoming as sharp as blades while the massive leaf atop its head lowered to the contour of its back. The two long leaves the comprised its tail snapped into position, and the Pokemon Batoy recognized as Grovyle leapt into attack again.

Groaning in pain, Batoy scrambled to his feet and ducked away from the Grovyle's slash, the blade-like leaves on its wrists slicing into the sleeve of his maroon hoodie rather than into his own flesh. Batoy turned to look upon his attacker when the Gecko Pokemon slammed the leaf upon its head into his chest, sending Batoy hurtling backwards. He landed in a clearing and slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, frantically panting for breath as he watched the Grovyle advance. The reptilian Pokemon bore a grimace filled with malice and hatred, and Batoy could only wonder what he could have done to upset it so much.

As much as he didn't want to, Batoy realized he had no choice but to defend himself. “Let's go, Jet!” he yelled between pants as he hurled the Pokeball. The Quilava appeared, but the dim blue glow of the returning energy had not yet faded before the Grovyle charged again, slamming a fisted claw into the Quilava's jaw with enough strength to split a tree. ~Quiil!~ it cried out as it bounced and rolled before landing on its feet. Blood trickled out of the corner of its mouth, but the Quilava didn't wiped it clean. It stared at the Grovyle in disbelief. Never before had it seen another Pokemon draw blood intentionally. Even in the fiercest of battles, the opposing creatures would practice a limited degree of restraint. Even fights featuring both Zangoose and Seviper would normally remain bloodless. But this creature here, it had no restraint. The Quilava shivered before frowning. It had to defeat that Grovyle quickly.

Its trademark flames spurted from his fur as the Quilava glared at the assailant. Batoy finally caught his breath and stood up. “Okay, Jet! Quick Attack, let's go!” Immediately, the Quilava dashed forward, moving so quickly that it seemed to be just a blur. But the Grovyle growled, and just before the Quilava made contact, the reptile leapt over it, sailing towards the branches above. But it did not flee. Instead, it rebounded off a branch and sailed towards not the Quilava but the human giving it commands. The leaves on its wrist extended and fused, forming a formidably lengthy scythe of sorts that glowed with an eerie green light.

“Jet, JET!!” Batoy cried out frantically as he fell backwards. The Grovyle descended upon him with increasing speed, and by the time the charging Quilava had skidded to a halt, he was already too far to come to Batoy aid. ~Quil!~ it cried out in a panicked rage. Suddenly, something began to happen. Fire began to lick the edges of its muzzle as the Quilava poured all of its strength into an attack it had never used before, and just before the Grovyle could send its Leaf Blade through Batoy's body, the Quilava spat out a bright orange sphere of burning energy. The sphere traveled quickly towards the Grovyle, trailing bits of flame as it sailed through the air.

But the Grovyle was not to be had. Its eyes sparkled, and it changed its charge into an aerial somersault, flipping over Batoy's head and dashing up into the branches as the fireball slammed into the ground, erupting into a torrent of flames that branched everywhere. Batoy scrambled backwards to avoid the flames which died in front of him and he stared towards the panting and shivering Quilava. Likewise, the Grovyle stood atop one of the high branches, glaring at the Quilava with a combination of shock and blistering hatred. It glanced towards the ground where the charred ground laid smoldering, noxious smoke rising into the air to mix with the mist. Had the air not been so thick and heavy with mist, that attack would have set the forest ablaze.

An eerie glow began to overtake the Grovyle as it glared at both human and Pokemon with such an intense hatred that the very trees seemed to wilt from its glare. The leaves on both of its wrists flattened into frightfully sharp blades, at fact made very apparent when the Grovyle flicked its wrist, severing the tree branch it stood on with one swipe. Even as it fell, its muscles tensed, and as the branch hit the ground, the Grovyle charged forward with an incredible surge of speed.

Batoy could only watch as the Grovyle rushed at him, blades at the ready to strike. Its glowing yellow eyes seemed reminiscent of the eyes that constantly stalked him in his dreams; the burning loathing both possessed paralyzed him. “No…please don't…” he whispered quietly as the reptile bore down on him. His eyes broke into tears as he watched his death swoop down on him. “I haven't done anything wrong…” Closer the Grovyle came until it leaped into the air and descended upon him. Batoy closed his eyes and raised his arms in a feeble attempt to protect himself.

The sound of slicing seemed so far away, and there was no pain. There was just an intense feeling of warmth flooding over his arms and legs followed the muffled sound of something hitting the ground. The boy groaned and winced as his eyes opened to dirt and pine needles. He tried to pull himself up, but cried softly as pain blazed through his upper arms and thighs. Slowly, he fought off the pain and staggered to his feet. Blood oozed from deep gashes in his body, and the four jagged tears on his clothing were scarlet. He grimaced before looking around. The sounds of combat could still be heard.

Some distance away, the Quilava wasn't faring much better than Batoy had. Several minor cuts from grazing hits leaked small trails of blood across its fur, and its forehead bleed from a bludgeoned hit. The Quilava fought on the defensive, unable to attack the much more aggressive beast engaging it. Its nimbleness strained against the faster reptile as every third blow scored a hit in one manner or another. “Jet…” Batoy whimpered softly as he took a step forward, his hand reaching into his pocket to search for something that he could help with. His hand slipped around a Pokeball—the one that once belonged to Meto.

~Quil!!~ The Quilava cried as it took a rather painful uppercut to the jaw. It flipped head-over-paws until it landed on its stomach, shivering and whining, but otherwise unmoving. The Grovyle leapt forward, eager to send the final blow, but before it could do so, the Quilava's body flared and blasts of superheated air wisped around it. The air was too painful for the Grovyle to push through, and it landed, panting heavily as it waiting for the air to clear. So focused was it that the Grovyle didn't notice the sound of a flying ball until it smacked him in the head.

Thoughts of capturing a Pokemon had not entered into Batoy's mind, and he was surprised with the ball rebounded and opened, sending massive green and red energy tethers towards the stunned Grovyle. After a shrill cry, the reptile was pulled inside the tiny sphere and, after a few seconds of struggling, was quieted. Batoy stared dumbly, unable to comprehend what had happened. But when things finally started to come back to him, rather than elation, he felt a great sense of dread. Something was wrong; something wasn't supposed to happen, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

Slowly he started forward, stumbling every few steps until he reached the Quilava. Grinding his teeth in pain, Batoy slowly knelt down; his hands were stained with his own blood as he tentatively covered his wounds. “Jet… Jet, are you okay?” he asked, his voice strangely distant. The Quilava shivered and opened its eyes, responding with a slow and equally distant nod. As gently as he could, both for the Quilava's sake and his own, he scooped the weasel into his arms.

Batoy started to walk away, but a glimmer caught his eye. The Pokeball that had captured the Grovyle lay upon a pile of needles, as if it had been thrust up on a pedestal awaiting pickup. For a split second, Batoy frowned, berating himself for even thinking about leaving the Pokeball. No Pokemon, not even one that had tried to kill him, deserved to spend eternity locked within a dark, solitary confinement. After a moment's hesitation, he bent down and stuffed the sphere into his pocket before walking off again.