Azrael awoke, in light. Pure blinding light that made his eyes water with its harsh caress. The Burraki covered his eyes with his hands and dragged himself into the corner, shading himself from the evil light as best he could.

"You are awake." A voice came, although the blinded Assassin could not see from whence it came. He could not see anything.

"What does it matter to you?"

"Everything and nothing." The voice was lilting, light , almost joyous. Azrael suspected it was either female or a feminine male. A hand caressed his cheek, and drew away almost as quickly.

"Oh, how very obscure and enigmatic." He couldn’t help it, the sarcasm crept in.

"You have been brought here for a purpose, Azrael Darkson. You have been brought here for repentance."

"Repentance? Repentance from what?"

"For the evil you have brought upon your kin." Suddenly the lights dimmed, and as the flickering lights in his vision cleared, he saw her. She was beautiful, with the essence of the air and mystery about her. Her eyes, wide and clear, were set in a face with almost serpentine beauty. It was her body that confused him the most though, for whereas her face was that of the rarest of Pokemon, the Dragonaire, her body was twisted. Her arms were bent and warped into the form of bat-like wings and her legs almost wasted. She supported herself on a staff, carved with the likenesses of many pokemon.

"You mean the fact that I was responsible for the death of some very sad and depressive cases who could not get the courage to grab life by the arm and shake it until it bleeds?"

"For bringing to the abrupt ending the life’s of those never given a chance."

Azrael sighed. "What do you expect me to do?"

The deformed lady stepped forward and placed her hand upon his shoulder. "My minions have borne with them word, rumours they have heard in the whispers of the wind, truths they have heard pass from lover to lovee, secrets they have smelt and heard and seen. And they speak of great unease."

"Team Rocket are sending the Pookamon to invade the Island Haven," Azrael stated flatly. "This I know myself."

"There is more you do not know as well, more for you to learn."

"You mean you are not going to tell me?" He asked, "you know these secrets but you are not about to tell me."

"Indeed," she replied, "I can tell you only what the wind tells me. And the wind tells me that Giovanni’s armies are building, they shall invade in a week. But there is more then that. They whisper to me of one who will approach the Island in advance, a spy perhaps, and set it upon its course for destruction."

"I do not suppose they whisper of who this might be?" The Assassin asked.

The Dragonair-Zubat woman shook her head. "They do not, only that the one that spies is as innocent in it all as those already on the Island."

"And you know all this yet you are not about to help?" Azrael sighed. "That seems to be just a little bit cowardly. You stand in behind and watch the destruction take place, able to stop it but choosing not to."

"It is your job, Azrael, for your repentance. Do not fail us, to fail would mean the destruction of all our free kin."

"Coward," he muttered. "Who are you to ask me to do anything?"

She gulped. "Once, I had a different name, but now I cam called Lilith, for my fate."

"Lilith," Azrael mused, "mother of monsters."

"If you like." She brushed back her long red hair and smiled at him serenely. "If you fail, Brooke will die." She said.

The Burakki’s eyes flashed and he whirled to face her. "What does Brooke matter to you? To me? What difference will it make to me if they die? How dare you threaten me!"

"You love her," Lilith stated, "that I can see, and smell and hear. And I do not threaten you, I merely tell you what is the truth."

"You are not just a mother of monsters, but a monster yourself," Azrael muttered, "to know what is going on, yet not to give aid."

"So speaks you, murderer of the innocent, killer in the name of the greater evil."

"I am not a murderer!" Azrael’s halo was glowing now as the rage built up in him. "I am an assassin! I kill those who want to die. And don’t we all, really want to die?"

"You don’t. You fear it."

And Azrael knew it was true, and could not deny it.

"Now, I have had enough of your petty arguments. Go, do what has to be done, or die in the trying. But beware, for not only are the Pookamon against you, dark Assassin, but your fellow workers, those of Team Rocket hunt you down too. And they will stop at nothing to kill you."

And with that the light dimmed and Lilith was gone.

Blinking furiously, trying to rid his eyes of the burning light, Azrael stared around him. Once more, he was on the road, where the Zubat had attacked them. Once more he was standing alone, with the crumpled form of James behind him. Cat was playing with a dead Zubat at his feet, he crouched down and stroked her, more for reassurance then anything else. She let out a rumbling purr and butted his hand with her head. Behind him Buttons whimpered, and he turned from his Meowth to James. The Zubat had drained the young man of much of his energy, although he was still alive, still conscious, albeit barely. Azrael crouched down beside him and placed his hand on his brow. It was hot, sticky with sweat.

Now he had a predicament, for everything in his told him he must move now, must get to the Island as soon as he could, but he could hardly leave James lying here on the road, could he just? If he dragged him to the side of the road and covered him with something, his cloak perhaps, then surely the human would remain alive and warm until he regained his energy or help came. Buttons would watch over him, and really, this was none of James’s business, it was Azrael’s fight, Azrael’s challenge, surely James was not a major player in it?

Lifting the man under his armpits he half carried, half dragged the blue haired human to the side of the road, and leaned him against a tree, wrapping his assassin’s cloak about him. It was a warm cloak, and the chill night air would have look chance of penetrating it before help or dawn arrived. James mumbled a bit in his sleep, and groaned, but made no move to say anything sensical.

"Goodbye James," Azrael whispered, as he strode away from the man. Cat darted around his heels, eager to get moving and he felt something crunch under his foot. The dead Zubat. Curiosity got the better of him and he stooped down for a moment to look at it. There was something odd with this Zubat, for unlike normal Zubat, this one’s fur was a pale golden-yellow and its face looked slightly monkeyish. He shuddered, for not only was this a Zubat, it was also a winged Mankey. No wonder Cat had not eaten it!

Team Rocket must not have only been experimenting with human DNA and Pokemon.

As he stood up again, repulsed at the freakish creature, a sound not unlike thunder rolled out around the road and he felt something whistle past him, leaving a furrow of blood across his fingers. A bullet. Someone was shooting at him! If he had not stood up at just that instant, the shot would have buried itself in his head. A flash of light alerted his senses and he threw himself to the ground just in time as another bullet whistled over him. The flash of light was all he needed. Gathering the powers of darkness, he leapt, disappearing at the same instant, becoming one with the shadows, tracking the gun flash.

A moment later, he appeared behind the gunman, bringing his knee up to meet the human’s groin. But the human seemed better trained then many, and instead of curling in two, swung the butt of the barrel at his head. Even with his faster then normal reflexes, the assassin was not swift enough to avoid the blow catching his overly large ears, and the ringing passed through them. He brought up his fist to catch the gunman in the jaw, this time sending them stumbling back and took the brief reprieve to disappear again, this time appearing next to James. If he could not fight, then he would have to run. Team Rocket never came alone.

James was semi conscious now, although still groggy. Azrael scooped him up and began half running, half stumbling into the bushes with him. Another volley of bullets, from two guns this time, from the sound of things, followed in his wake, but he felt no pain and knew he had not been hit.

The human whimpered and muttered, and tried to move, but his legs would not quite work right, and within a few paces into the forest, Azrael felt his foot slide out from under him. Both he and James crashed to the ground, sprawling in the peat moss.

"Uh, what?" James mumbled as Azrael dragged him to his feet again and the two of them stumbled through the trees. The occasional flicker of cream showed where Cat was trailing them, but Buttons was so dark that even the assassin could not see her in the dense forest. Behind him he heard breaking twigs as the Team Rocket thugs followed them into the forest.

Another shot rang out and James almost shrieked. Azrael knew that his companion had been hit, but he could not take the time to investigate the damage, it would have to wait. Time was, as always, of the essence.

The next barrel flash actually came from ahead of them. Reflexively, Azrael ducked, but the shot had gone wide anyway. Beside him James was moaning with pain.

Suddenly the gunman up ahead let out a startled yelp, and there was a crashing sound. Realising that whatever had happened, their only hope lay in making it past that gunman, Azrael hissed at James. "I know you’re hurt, but ignore it, we have to run, we have to get past and lose ourselves in the woods, can you do that?"

He could feel James weakly nod against his shoulder.

"Then let’s go!"

He took James by the hand and started sprinting towards the gunman ahead of them, from who sounds of a scuffle were emitted. Behind him James was dragged along, struggling to keep his feet. Another shot rang out, this time from behind them, but due to their flight, it merely sent a tree branch crashing downwards. Azrael ignored it and continued running, trying not to stumble as the slow weight of James dragged him back. And then they were past the gunman, who was struggling with an Eevee and a Meowth, and onwards, into the dark heart of the wood.

For about ten feet, and then they were slipping and sliding as the woods gave way to a steep bank, below which a tumultuous river hissed like a fearsome serpent.

They hit the water in unison, sinking down almost to the bottom before natural buoyancy took over and they were brought up to the surface, kicking and spitting. The water was cold, bitterly so and Azrael was thankful of his pelt. It seemed to wake James up fully, invigorate him somewhat although, much to his alarm, Azrael noticed a trail of blood in the water. He wrapped his arms about James so that the two of them were not separated by the rapids. It was a struggle to keep his head above water, let alone the other man’s, but James was still weak from the attack and could barely keep himself afloat. Rocks rushed past them, some of them snagging on their clothing, but the assassin did his best to avoid them, although it was more luck then any sort of skill. Time and time again the water forced his face underneath, and time and time again he would struggle for air, his eyes were streaming and all he could see were bright lights flashing in front of his vision.

Twigs and other debris caught in his hair, his fur, scraped past his skin and something large pushed itself straight into his back, sending him struggling under the water once more. This time he barely had the energy to drag himself up and he knew there was little time left for them. He could not tell if James was alive or dead. The thing that had hit him suddenly caught his eyes through his blurred vision. It was a door. And it had caught against a rock, as the current dragged him near it, Azrael dragged James through the water towards it, feeling the water dragging the man downstream with so much force Azrael thought his arms would dislocate. The pain was immense. Finally to his blessed relief, he managed to grasp the edge of the board with his one free hand. It immediately came free and gave into the tug downstream, dragging he and James with it. He clung to it with one hand, his other arm wrapped around James’s chest, under his arms, in an effort to keep his face above the water.

And finally the rapids died down, the water, although still swift, was calmer. Gritting his teeth, Azrael angled the door towards the side of the river, for here the banks were sheer, rising far above them, so far it was almost blocked out the moonlight, and when it hit the rock face, he used the wall as a brace to assist him in lifting and dragging the blue haired man onto the door. James was still alive, and conscious enough to pull himself onto it, but them he sunk back into a blissful darkness.

Azrael wished he had such a luxury, but the door would only support the weight of one person. He managed to get his upper body across the board, almost tipping James back into the water, and then sunk into a semi-comatose state himself, brought on by the cold and exhaustion.

When finally awareness dawned on him again it was dawn, the sky lit with a myriad of hues – gold, red, pink. It was quite vivid and beautiful, but the Burakki could not take the time to enjoy it. Here the river had exited the gully and was on its way to the sea. It was slow enough now for Azrael to exert the last vestige of energy left in his body and push the door to the shore. Then, exhausted beyond measure, he dragged himself to the welcoming solid ground, and drew James up beside him. The two of them lay on the banks of the river like exhausted lovers, their clothing sodden and in tatters, their skin battered and broke. But they were both alive.

And then darkness, once more, claimed all.

When he awoke it was well past noon, and to the sound of James vomiting. He struggled to his feet, almost falling in the process and stared at their surroundings. His stomach was churning too, and suddenly it gave way as he coughed up mouthfuls of dirty river water. Then, exhausted even by that mere action, he collapsed to the ground once more, and sat there, his long hair hanging lank about his face, almost covering his features. James toppled over on his side, and half dragged himself to where Azrael was sitting.

"I am never, ever, doing that again," he said. His face was pale, and his clothing, damp as it was, was stained a deep brown-red about the shoulder.

"You were shot," Azrael stated, then found his vision fading to blackness again.

He did not know how long it was, but it cannot have been more then a few minutes, because his next thought was James saying; "it’s only a flesh wound."

Struggling against the overwhelming weariness and the ache of every bone in his body, Azrael leaned forward and fumbled with the buttons that remained on James’s shirt. It seemed his fingers were not his own anymore, they were so cold that he could not feel the buttons. Exasperating, he ripped the sides of the shirt apart, exposing James’s injury.

Despite what James had said, it was not just a flesh wound. Blood still oozed from it in a lethargic sense, for the cold had slowed the blood loss somewhat and sealed the hole. Feeling sudden fright, Azrael tore the shirt across the back, revealing a jagged exit hole about 5 cms in diameter (2 inches to you Americans!).

James whimpered and collapsed forward and Azrael knew that he would bleed to death unless he found help soon. But where were they? The cold had stilled the blood flow, and decreased their heart rates, but how long before the heat of the day won out? How long before James started to display the symptoms of acute hyperthermia?

At least Azrael had fur to protect him. He took off his own shirt, still damp despite the kiss of the sun, and wrapped it around James’s injury.

James began muttering to himself. "I saw an angel," he whispered, "a beautiful, wonderful angel, like the one I killed. And water, water everywhere, not a drop to drink. Won’t you spare me a dime? I need it to buy my goldfish a bicycle."

The cloak had been lost, and would have been too damp to help them anyway, and James was delirious with pain and from the amount of torture his body had faced. It was a wonder he was still alive. You had to admire him really, surviving all that when it had almost done for the more hardier morph.

"I know where we are," James continued, "we’re on the verge of paradise, the kiss of the stars. The time when worlds come to an end and not a beginning. A place where people will help me because I have danced with them in the past and giving them something they will always forget. I think I’d like to sleep now. Good sleep… Eat a sprig of parsley above he bed to keep the nasty fish away. Don’t drink the water, it could be poison. Or is that a fish? I don’t like fish, its bad for the digestion…"

He rambled on, with Azrael understanding nothing, but the first comment had sparked something in his mind. He knew where they were. James knew where they were.

They were on the sea shore where they had said "farewell" to Brooke and Cassandra in their own ways.

Sanctuary was not too far away, the river had delivered them, in whatever state, to their destination. Now all they needed to do was find someone who might actually be able to help them.

"James," Azrael ordered, "James!"

"Did someone call me baloney?" James asked, his eyes flickering at the assassin, but unfocussed and clouded.

"We must walk, can you walk James? Can you walk?!"

He tried to heave James to his feet and the man allowed himself to be lifted up, although he seemed unsteady on his feet and leaned heavily against Azrael, the Burakki eventually managed to get him to walk down the river bank until they reached the beach.

Luckily it was not far, and his eyes shone with hope when he saw the jetty there. The very jetty where Brooke had stood and bid James farewell.

She had never said goodbye to him, and he had hardly expected it.

More to the point, there was a boat there, and several men were helping a Wartortle morph load crates onto the boat. It seemed the Islanders were not entirely self sufficient just yet.

Stumbling and staggering, the two men made their way to the jetty and collapsed at the foot of it. The men turned around with expressions of alarm.

"Please," Azrael begged, "we need help, my friend" (and it seemed odd calling James that) "has been shot and we fell into a river and were washed downstream." He shuddered violently and the human men immediately hastened down to support him and his companion.

However, the Wartortle’s eyes hardened. He placed the crate he was carrying on the ground and stepped down towards Azrael. It happened so fast that Azrael could not have dodged it even if he had the energy to do so, as the morph punched him in the chest. Pain erupted in him and he collapsed forward.

"Why did you do that?" One of the men asked.

The Wartortle frowned at them. "Can you not see who this is?" He asked. "This pathetic scrap of fur?" He nodded at James, "help this one aboard and see that he gets treatment, and as for this one." He kicked Azrael in the shin. "Leave him here for the vultures to pick the flesh from his sorry carcass."

"Are you going to kill him?" One of the men asked tentatively.

"Nah," the Sailor shook his head. "He looks nearly half dead as it is. I doubt he could survive an attack from a half dead Rattata."

"What did he actually do?" Another man asked.

The Wartortle morph put this hands on his hips. "He killed someone I cared about." He said simply. "And he did it for money. Does that not make him a monster?"

The men threw him into the sand and kicked him. He was too weak to resist as they rolled him in the dirt, pounded him, thrashed him.

Darkness took over again.

Spitting blood, Azrael dragged his head upwards from the sand just in time to watch the ship disappearing across the glistening waters. He could only guess, but he suspected James was on board, safely been borne towards care. They would take him to the Isle, he had saved many of their lives, and they would brand him as a hero.

He, on the other hand, had destroyed many of them, and was not even a villain, but a monster, a monster only fit for the scavengers.

Twin tears made a path in the sand that coated his muzzle, trickling down his vulpine face to dissolve into the sand and vanish forever.