Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon. I probably don't own my writing style either.

Claim: I want some muffins.

Note: I will be editing chapters if spelling, grammar, and similar mistakes are noted. If a review points out a problem that seems to not exist, it's probably been edited.

Skin meets cold steel, cold, sharp steel that pierces the heart and the soul. It traces its path down the sea of flesh and trails up until it meets bone, the shield protecting the soul. The steel breaks it trail and folds away, hidden until needed again.

Blood pours like a sticky juice from the line, a juice that drives some mad and others to their deaths, a juice that strengthens the body but murders the soul. I lap at it like an animal, a soulless beast with no regards for anyone but itself. Yes, that's right. I'm an animal, not human. Humanity leaked away from me long ago, like juice of death leaking from my arm and spilling from my mouth. The taste of the blood makes me want to rip out my tongue and stab it with a fork, but I do it every year. It's a tradition of sorts, a tradition of self-torture and destruction.

I examine my arm, hatred brewing from every drop of blood that lands on the dirt. I count the scars, like I do every year; eight, nine, ten, each representing a year. It's hard for me to believe that it's been a decade, but it has. My life is gone, seeping through the lines both new and healed.

I hear a loud boom. I look up from my bloody drink and see a series of flashes and bangs in the sky I recognize as fireworks dancing across the winter sky. That's how they look at today; the normal ones. A day to celebrate the start of a new year. What year is it again? I silently ask myself. Not like real years matter anymore to me; the only calendar I use anymore is the moon; the only dating system years since I fled, since that kid with the funny hat tore through them.

I guess I could be referred to as a nomad; I never take residence for longer than a week anywhere. That is, besides the cave.

The cave is, if anything, the only place I can call home. I've never seen it in the warmth; I only stay here during the winter, when the moss is replaced with icicles and frost. The blanket of snow that coats the ground is a better bed than any mattress of cotton will ever be; the walls keep out the cold better than any brick of plaster. And the best part; it's nearly impossible to get to. At least, impossible to untrained climbers.

I may have had a real home once; at least, what the common man thinks is a real home. Four trapping walls of compacted clay, doors carved out of dead trees, power-hungry, unnatural lights, little suns hanging from a huge square of who-know-what. I may have had family, maybe even a different name. What was my real name? It's been so long I've forgotten what it was. "Zacchaeus." The name rolls off my tongue like a bitter melon. Who know how it evolved, but the name stuck back at training. I didn't have a clue what it meant or where it came from, but it seemed to fit perfectly into place.

A reassuring electric purr sounds from behind me. I turn around only to be covered in the warm furry face of my Luxray. Despite my inability to breathe through my nose, I grin. Unfortunately, this had the added side effect of me swallowing some of his navy hairs. I leap back and spit out most of the hairs, coughing the rest out before smiling faintly.

Luxray examines me curiously before curiously tipping his head to his side, as if to ask, What happened?

I cough out a few more hairs. "It's fine, buddy. Just…warn me before you do that next time, 'k?

But Luxray's golden X-ray eyes aren't focused on me anymore. He snarls at something behind me and courses electricity through his thick fur.

The reaction is immediate. My knife is unfolded and soaring through the air within seconds. Luxray has never failed me before: if he's snarling, something is definitely wrong.

Cold steel makes contact with skull with seconds. The silhouette crumples to the floor and lays there, limp.

I calmly stride over to the corpse and remove my jackknife from his cranium before examining his limp body. The darkness of the cave makes it hard to see him in his all-black outfit, but one thing stands out on his limp cadaver. A big, neon red R plastered across the front of his skintight suit.

Fuck. They've found me.

Yes, it's another fic by the me. For the Streets fans...don't expect much soon. For Coal fans, expect a chapter soon.

Anyway, I do happen to be accepting some OCs. Please excuse a lack of clarity on the form; there are a lot of secrets that cannot be revealed.

Name: This is simple.

Age: Once again, simple. 15-18.

Gender:...do I need to elaborate?

Class: There are two classes: Wanderers and Home-stayers. Wanderers have been flying solo around the world since training was interrupted. Home-Stayers have returned to their childhood homes and pushed their training time out of mind. I'm taking 3 more Homestayers, Wadnderers are full.

Appearance: Basic. Give me detail on hair/eyes/body-type/skin color/any other physical characteristics. I am a harsh judge on overbeautification; tread carefully. ALSO: The Wanderers most likely won't be very cleanly. Just sayin'. I'm OK with weirdo hair colors, so go crazy. No rainbows or changing colors of either eyes nor hair please, unless dyed.

Clothing: Simple. Nothing too revealing or impractical for Wanderers, go wild with the Homestayers.

Personality: KEEP THIS IN MIND: The Wanderers have gone through a severe amount of emotionally threatening experiences and clearly remember them. They won't be super happy-go-lucky. Home-stayers don't keep it in mind, so go wild there. At least five sentences; give me stuff to work with.

History: THIS IS IMPORTANT. Give me pre-training stuff: where they lived etc. Also, give me post-training: for home-stayers: how did they get home, when did they stop thinking about it, what did they do afterwards...Wanderers: Where did they go, what have they been doing, have they had any encounters with the Rockets...

Pokemon: First off: no Eevee/loutions, no Pseudo-legendaries for homestayers (this includes the Riolu family), no legendaries, no shinies. Also; the homestayers will most likely have few more Pokemon than family pets; they are just teenagers after all. Wanderers, go crazy with everything besides the excluded. 6 maximum, 3 for homestayers.

Seeya next chapter

Zulu