A beam of red light lanced from the Poké Ball, solidifying into a small, yellow figure on the leaf-strewn ground. It didn't stand, however. It lay there, twitching faintly. Unlike the Scyther, whose stillness was born of pure exhaustion, this creature – an Abra – was horrifically injured. Angry, web-like burn marks crisscrossed its frail body, the flesh beneath puckered and raw. The acrid smell of burnt fur and flesh hung heavy in the air.
Xiu stared, his stomach churning at the sight. The Abra's brow was furrowed tight, a mask of silent agony. Fury, cold and sudden, surged through him. He spun around and delivered a vicious kick to the prone form of the poacher, George. A groan escaped the man's lips; his eyelids fluttered. Seeing him about to regain consciousness, Xiu didn't hesitate. Another swift kick, this one aimed squarely at the head, silenced him again.
'Stay down.'
High above, the Toucannon, witnessing the assault on its trainer, let out a piercing shriek. It folded its wings and plummeted, beak glowing with a sharp white light – Peck. It came down like feathered vengeance, an arrow aimed straight at Xiu.
But the Kangaskhan hadn't left. It moved with deceptive speed, a blur of brown power. A fist lashed out, connecting with the diving Toucannon in mid-air. The sound was sickeningly solid. Before Xiu could even fully register the movement, the Toucannon was flung backwards and upwards at twice its diving speed, tumbling end over end into the dense canopy, vanishing from sight. Its fate, unknown. Likely unpleasant.
Xiu let out a shaky breath, feeling a strange mix of helplessness and grim understanding. 'Low-level hunters...' He recalled snippets from the breeder's manual and overheard park gossip. Rattata and Toucannon (or similar common, easily controlled Pokémon like Pidgey or Spearow) were favourites among novice poachers. Not just for their practical abilities – burrowing, flight, bypassing terrain – but because they were perceived as having lower intelligence. Less likely to question orders, more inherently loyal, or perhaps just easier to dominate. Plus, they were common. Expendable. Easily replaced if lost. Perfect cannon fodder for scouting or covering a retreat.
He forced himself to focus. The Abra needed help, now. He carefully scooped it up and returned it to the Poké Ball's stabilizing red light. He turned to the Kangaskhan, still standing protectively nearby. He didn't know if it understood human speech, but he gestured towards the unconscious poacher. "Watch him for me, please."
The Kangaskhan tilted its massive head, its deep eyes seeming to comprehend. It let out a low rumble and settled its weight, becoming an immovable guardian.
Trusting the giant Pokémon, Xiu grabbed the poacher's backpack and the Poké Ball containing the Abra. He quickly scanned the clearing, kicking dirt over the worst of the scuff marks, trying to obscure the signs of the fight before jogging back towards his cabin.
Every second counted. The Abra's burns were contaminated with dirt and forest debris. Infection was a serious risk. There were no proper medical facilities here in the deep park, and who knew when – or if – the official park patrol would arrive. Treatment had to happen here, now.
Back inside the relative safety of the cabin, Xiu tossed the backpack aside. He cleared the rough table, gently laying a spare, clean quilt down before releasing the Abra onto it. The small Pokémon remained frighteningly still, only the shallow rise and fall of its chest indicating life. He immediately ran outside, grabbed his bucket, filled it with stream water, and hurried to the small, makeshift fire pit he'd dug near the cabin wall. He piled kindling, struck a match salvaged from the poacher's bag, and soon had a small fire going, balancing his single cooking pot over the flames to boil the water.
'People here don't drink hot water,' He remembered, considering it strange. This fire pit was his own concession to a habit from his past life, useful now for sterilization.
While the water heated, Xiu frantically searched the cabin and the poacher's backpack. No disinfectant spray, no anesthetic, no proper medical kit. All he found were a few clean rags (likely meant for polishing equipment), a small sewing kit with needles, and his own dwindling supply of basic wound powder. 'This is bad.' He dropped the rags and needle into the boiling water. Sterilization, at least, was possible. He held the needle's tip in the flames for a moment longer, watching it glow red.
He turned back to the table. The Abra's eyes were open now. It wasn't moving, wasn't crying out, just staring up at him with large, unnervingly calm brown eyes. Xiu realized with a jolt that Abra did have open eyes, contrary to popular depiction. Not squinting slits, but normally proportioned, expressive eyes. Just... empty-looking right now.
There was no time for idle observation. Ignoring the question of whether the creature could understand him, Xiu spoke softly but urgently. "Okay, listen. I need to clean these wounds. It's going to hurt. Try to stay still. Don't move."
Taking a deep breath, he began. Using the sterilized needle, he carefully picked out the larger pieces of embedded dirt and debris from the burns. He soaked strips of boiled rag in the cooled boiled water and gently, painstakingly, wiped away the grime.
As he worked, a cold fear began to creep into his heart, making his hands threaten to tremble. The Abra remained utterly motionless beneath his touch. 'Too still... like cleaning a wound on a corpse.' Its amber eyes tracked his every movement, reflecting his own worried face, but holding no other discernible emotion. Just a flat, vacant stare. A pool of stagnant water.
'Is it paralyzed? The thought terrified him. Did the burns damage its spine? Did the poacher drug it?'
Knowing his lack of expertise, Xiu worked faster, driven by rising panic. Clean the wound, rinse with more warm water, carefully pat dry with another clean rag strip. Apply the precious wound powder generously, hoping it had some antiseptic properties. Finally, with trembling hands, he returned the silent, staring Abra to its Poké Ball.
The entire process had taken place under that unnerving, unblinking gaze. Just before the red light enveloped it, Xiu thought he saw a flicker of something else in its eyes – Awareness? Gratitude? Fear? He couldn't be sure. It unsettled him deeply.
He looked down at his hands, stained with grime and the Abra's fluids. He felt drained, shaky. The ordeal had cost him dearly, using up almost his entire meager supply of wound powder.
Cleaning himself up quickly, Xiu hurried back to the clearing where he'd left the Kangaskhan and the poacher. He arrived to find the scene already transformed. Park patrol vehicles were parked haphazardly, uniformed personnel moving efficiently. George, the poacher, now had a rough black sack pulled over his head, his hands and feet bound securely. His Rattata and the recovered (and apparently still unconscious) Toucannon were contained in transport cages nearby, looking worse for wear.
'If George wants to leave park custody alive, Xiu thought grimly, he'll need luck.' Poaching was taken seriously, especially within designated Wilderness Areas.
The Kangaskhan mother and child were gone, having wisely retreated once official help arrived. A clean-up crew was already meticulously erasing the signs of the struggle. The patrol team leader, a stern-looking man with captain's bars on his uniform, noticed Xiu approaching.
"You reported this?" the captain asked, his eyes sharp.
Xiu nodded, deciding to stick to the safest version of events. "I heard the commotion, saw the Kangaskhan drive off the poacher. She seemed to handle it before I could even call it in properly." He deliberately omitted his own involvement in the fight, letting Kangaskhan take the credit.
The captain grunted, accepting the explanation. He gestured towards the bound poacher. "Anything else? Did he manage to capture anything before the Kangaskhan intervened?"
Xiu hesitated for a beat, then produced the Poké Ball containing the Abra. "He had this. It's injured."
There was no point hiding it. Pokémon found within the park boundaries were considered park property. As an employee, attempting to conceal or keep one would be grounds for immediate dismissal, possibly even prosecution.
The captain took the Poké Ball, releasing the Abra briefly onto a portable scanner device. He frowned at the readings, then consulted his own communicator device, tapping rapidly. After a moment, a strange expression crossed his face. He returned the Abra to its Poké Ball and, unexpectedly, handed it back to Xiu.
Seeing Xiu's bewildered look, the captain offered a terse explanation. "This Abra isn't registered to our park. No microchip, no record of it being born or transferred here. Which means," he clapped Xiu on the shoulder, a surprisingly forceful gesture, "according to park reclamation protocols regarding unregistered captures from apprehended poachers... it's your salvage reward. Your trophy."
He jerked his thumb towards the bound George. "He's my trophy."
A slow smile spread across the captain's face. Understanding dawned on Xiu. The captain was claiming the credit for the capture of the poacher – a significant event – and was offering the Abra as a form of unofficial compensation, a way to keep Xiu quiet about the Kangaskhan doing the actual work.
Xiu immediately played along, forcing a grateful smile. "Thank you, Captain! If you hadn't apprehended this poacher so swiftly, who knows what other damage he might have caused. I was lucky you arrived when you did."
The captain nodded, satisfied with Xiu's tact. "Good man." Without further ceremony, he gave a curt order, and the patrol team efficiently packed up, loading the poacher and his caged Pokémon into their vehicles. They drove off, leaving Xiu standing alone in the now quiet clearing.
He watched them go, his face impassive. Giving up the "credit" didn't bother him in the slightest. He'd never intended to claim it; being hailed as a hero who subdued a poacher would bring far too much unwanted scrutiny for a simple "garbage collector." Better to be overlooked, underestimated. Taking the Abra – a tangible benefit – and maintaining a low profile was the pragmatic choice. Develop quietly, stay under the radar.
But the question remained: 'Why wasn't this Abra from the park? Where did George catch it? The captain clearly didn't want to elaborate, and the Abra's presence here felt... odd.' Xiu couldn't recall ever seeing or hearing about Abra inhabiting this specific Wilderness Area.
Lost in thought, Xiu followed the convoy's path back towards the main gate. His immediate priority shifted. He needed professional advice on the Abra's condition. He found the park's on-duty veterinarian, a kind-faced woman in a lab coat, and explained the situation (omitting the source, simply stating it was recovered injured). He released the Abra for her examination.
The vet checked the burns gently, peered into its eyes, and ran a small scanner over its body. "The wound treatment was surprisingly adequate, good job," she commented. "As for why it wasn't moving... he injected it with a paralytic agent. Standard procedure for some hunters, prevents the Pokémon struggling or dying from shock immediately after capture. Once the drug wears off fully, it should be fine. Just keep the burns clean."
'Paralytic drugs...' Xiu hadn't known that. Another grim detail about the poaching trade.
Relief washed over him again. The Abra wasn't permanently damaged. Thanking the vet profusely, he recalled the Abra and hurried back towards his isolated cabin, the small weight of the Poké Ball feeling significant in his pocket.