A story by Christian Brumwell
Both lizards are hunched over, heads extended, eyes locked with each other. The brilliantly burning flames on the tips of the tails are angled in front of the body. The male lizard is mostly bright orange; the cream on his torso is covered in scratch marks and mild burns. The electric blue eyes are narrowed, fixed on the other lizard.
She’s different; her eyes are more focused with a tint of green, and her scaly skin from head to toe is a dazzling gold. There is a slight sparkle to her: even her flame seems brighter. Like her opponent, her eyes are unmoving. She flexes her feet; her claws crunch into the hot, dusty gravel.
He draws himself up to his full height, pulling back his tail. His eyes stretch out into a leer. Her arm twitches and her head drops for a split second. He moves to take a step forward just as she brings her head back up and utters a growl; he now takes a step back. The two Charmander are still locked at the eyes, about ten metres apart.
The silence presses in. The lizards remain motionless. The female’s arm twitches again: she lifts her other arm to scratch her neck and, finally, turns to move away from her orange opponent. Just as he starts to step forward again, she strikes. Turning with the speed of a Weavile, she spits a jet of golden flame. He drops his head again and allows the flame to hit him, keeping his eyes fixed forwards. As he absorbs the oncoming flames, the claws on her right arm extend, transforming from gold into a light, shiny grey.
As she readies her metal claw, his fangs start to extend with bright orange flames erupting from his gums. With the solid white daggers now fully extended from his mouth, entirely layered with orange fire, he flexes his claws and waits. As quickly as she fired her flamethrower, she lets up: they both charge at once.
Both Charmander are sprinting at each other the ferocity of Rhyhorn; metal claw and fire fang at the ready. They get to about five metres apart before they leap. Her arm is extended out above her head, while his head is reared forward, with his mouth wide open.
Her metallic arm is caught in his mouth, while his fangs have pierced deep beneath her skin. She spasms; flinching from the depth of his bite. Pressing his advantage, he lets go, then extends his fangs again. This time the fire around them seems even more fierce. He bites again. Grey smoke starts to seep out of her twice bitten arm. She wails in pain and tries desperately to pull herself free. This time, he doesn’t stop biting, and his own claws on both arms extend into a scratch attack. He uses his claws to hook her arm into her place and continues to sink the fire fang deeper beneath her skin.
She continues to cry in pain, but the orange Charmander still keeps his jaws firmly on her arm. Her own fangs start to extend, layering themselves with the same type of golden flame that she spat at him earlier. His right eye travels up to see a fully formed fire fang.
This one is more sickening than the first. He has taken a critical hit from a fire fang to the back of the neck and, like she did after his first attack, he has spasmed into a flinch. Unlike him, she does not let go and bite again: instead, she pulls her arm out of his mouth, while forming her claws into a scratch attack. She hooks one arm onto his head, and another over his back to hold him, while continuing to press her fire fang into the back of his neck. His mouth is wide open, and his eyes are wide, yet he is not making a sound. He’s on all fours, desperately trying to pull away, but her fangs have got him locked into place.
Tears start to form at his eyes. He closes them and, for a second, almost seems to stop struggling. She slightly loosens her grip on his neck. Then the smoke erupts from his mouth, travelling up, engulfing the pair. Instinctively, she closes her eyes and pulls away.
She attempts to jog away from the brawl, but her left foot catches the back of her right foot, and she falls to the ground. Her throat is burning. She coughs hard, but more thick billowing smoke creeps in. For a while, all she can do is lie there, spluttering to try and work the smoke out of her system. Her right arm that took the fire fang from the male Charmander is twitching.
The ground beneath her seems to rumble. She lifts her head up, but keeps her mouth and eyes closed. Almost silence: there is only the light licks of her golden, shimmering flame, whispering to the humid, clouded air. She goes to stand, gingerly pushing herself up, but the rumble comes back. This time it’s more intense; like a mild earthquake. She starts to feel queasy and drops back to the floor, covering her head with her arms. She lies there cowering, but still the rumble continues, increasing with intensity with every passing second. She opens her mouth to cry out, still keeping her eyes firmly shut, with her arms covering her head.
The rumbling stops. Several small pebbles seem to have gone flying, not too far from where she lies. A couple of them bounce of the top of her head. Slowly, she lifts her head up and finally opens her eyes.
The smoke is a lot less thick; it now more resembles a thin cloud of dust. Something is moving along the ground.
This is part I, see part II here!