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Description
    "Come on Chopper, bust his face!" the trainer said to his Mankey.
     It looked at him skeptically
     "Punch that orange chunk of lard in the face. Harder! Come on don't you want to get tough so we can win?"
     Chopper gave in. He pulled back his arms, the muscles flexing and ready to thrust forward.
     "Don't go easy on him; he's part of our team. Don't you want him to get better too?"
     Chopper hesitated still.
     The trainer let out an aggressive groan, and kicked a rock, which was sent flying into the back of Choppers head. It jagged edges were stuck there. Chopper winced but held is stance.
     "I want you to punch that sonnuvabitch in the face right now, and I want you to give it all you got too; disobey me and you'll fucking regret it!"
     Choppers arm sprung forth; like a bullet from a gun; like a Crobat out of Hell. His Charmander cried pitifully upon impact.
     "Critical fucking hit…yes…" the trainer muttered to himself. "Again! Do it again now!"
     As soon as the Charmander staggered to his feet, he was only to be sent flying by another one of Chopper's punches. The impact of his fist was so loud, little Ratta and Pidgey fled in fear from the nearby tall grass.
     This was how Mike trained his Pokémon. Rather than battle trainers, he would make his Pokémon battle each other until one could no longer move.
     More than often he used his Charmander as a punching bag for his other Pokémon. He hated it so. When he received it, he discovered that it had become the victim to birth defects. Its teeth were crooked, its head uneven, and its body the color of an overused basketball.
    He nicknamed it Huffy, since it was so chronically overweight, that it panted and choked loudly as it moved, sending pathetic puffs of steam out of its nose and mouth.
    What enraged him more was that, try after try, Huffy could never beat Pewter cities gym leader. He'd been trying for two years.
     The abuse went on for about an hour and a half. Chopper's fur was drenched with sweat with the occasional sprinkle of blood. It could not be determined which Pokémon it belonged to.
     Huffy's flame was like a birthday candle. He flailed his claws at the ground, trying to drag himself away with what little strength he had.
     Mike looked down at huffy. "Why don't you fight back, you stupid animal?"
     Huffy opened his eyes. As he looked back up at Mike, his pale eyes glistened with hatred. His sparkling black pupils tapered away into cruel looking slits.
     "So now you got some fight in you; I just had to bead it out of you."
     He growled.
     "Maybe you could scare off a few Ratta, if they don't tickle ya to death first."
     He climbed to his feet.
     "Show me what this wad of snot can do Ch—"
    Huffy launched himself at Chopper, shredding him with ragged teeth.
     "Huffy what in the—"
     Chopper screeched horribly, and Huffy squinted his eyes. The harsh cry seemed to never end.
     But it did. A slash of Huffy's claws, and a sickening pop later, the scream came to a sudden finish. Everything was covered in a deep red liquid. It pooled around Chopper's motionless body and covered Huffy's face and claws.
     Mikes eyes were wide with fear, and empty with sadness; with terror. Frantically he returned Huffy to his Pokéball.
     He hid Chopper's body in the tall grass. Murkrow were already circling the area. He sprayed a repel to ward them off so they wouldn't attract attention.
      He clawed and clawed at the ground, digging a hole with his bare hands. He placed Huffy's ball in the hole, as woeful eyes could only look on from the tall grass.

Description
    "Come on Chopper, bust his face!" the trainer said to his Mankey.
     It looked at him skeptically
     "Punch that orange chunk of lard in the face. Harder! Come on don't you want to get tough so we can win?"
     Chopper gave in. He pulled back his arms, the muscles flexing and ready to thrust forward.
     "Don't go easy on him; he's part of our team. Don't you want him to get better too?"
     Chopper hesitated still.
     The trainer let out an aggressive groan, and kicked a rock, which was sent flying into the back of Choppers head. It jagged edges were stuck there. Chopper winced but held is stance.
     "I want you to punch that sonnuvabitch in the face right now, and I want you to give it all you got too; disobey me and you'll fucking regret it!"
     Choppers arm sprung forth; like a bullet from a gun; like a Crobat out of Hell. His Charmander cried pitifully upon impact.
     "Critical fucking hit…yes…" the trainer muttered to himself. "Again! Do it again now!"
     As soon as the Charmander staggered to his feet, he was only to be sent flying by another one of Chopper's punches. The impact of his fist was so loud, little Ratta and Pidgey fled in fear from the nearby tall grass.
     This was how Mike trained his Pokémon. Rather than battle trainers, he would make his Pokémon battle each other until one could no longer move.
     More than often he used his Charmander as a punching bag for his other Pokémon. He hated it so. When he received it, he discovered that it had become the victim to birth defects. Its teeth were crooked, its head uneven, and its body the color of an overused basketball.
    He nicknamed it Huffy, since it was so chronically overweight, that it panted and choked loudly as it moved, sending pathetic puffs of steam out of its nose and mouth.
    What enraged him more was that, try after try, Huffy could never beat Pewter cities gym leader. He'd been trying for two years.
     The abuse went on for about an hour and a half. Chopper's fur was drenched with sweat with the occasional sprinkle of blood. It could not be determined which Pokémon it belonged to.
     Huffy's flame was like a birthday candle. He flailed his claws at the ground, trying to drag himself away with what little strength he had.
     Mike looked down at huffy. "Why don't you fight back, you stupid animal?"
     Huffy opened his eyes. As he looked back up at Mike, his pale eyes glistened with hatred. His sparkling black pupils tapered away into cruel looking slits.
     "So now you got some fight in you; I just had to bead it out of you."
     He growled.
     "Maybe you could scare off a few Ratta, if they don't tickle ya to death first."
     He climbed to his feet.
     "Show me what this wad of snot can do Ch—"
    Huffy launched himself at Chopper, shredding him with ragged teeth.
     "Huffy what in the—"
     Chopper screeched horribly, and Huffy squinted his eyes. The harsh cry seemed to never end.
     But it did. A slash of Huffy's claws, and a sickening pop later, the scream came to a sudden finish. Everything was covered in a deep red liquid. It pooled around Chopper's motionless body and covered Huffy's face and claws.
     Mikes eyes were wide with fear, and empty with sadness; with terror. Frantically he returned Huffy to his Pokéball.
     He hid Chopper's body in the tall grass. Murkrow were already circling the area. He sprayed a repel to ward them off so they wouldn't attract attention.
      He clawed and clawed at the ground, digging a hole with his bare hands. He placed Huffy's ball in the hole, as woeful eyes could only look on from the tall grass.