Killers are not born, they are made. For a long time, Green had believed that and would have continued to believe it, if he had not beaten the first girl he liked to death with his bare fists.
***
Even at fourteen, Viola had been jaw-achingly beautiful. When she put on her signature red lipstick, a tight fitting leather skirt and black stiletto heels, it suddenly didn’t matter how young she was. Pallet town knew her, adored her and hungrily devoured her with the eyes of its citizens.
Each Pallet boy thought that only he was good enough to be Viola’s boyfriend. God, even Red, the local mute, would look up from his textbooks whenever Viola walked into the classroom. Just because the freak was smart, he didn’t have the right to stare at normal girls for Mew’s sake!
Even thinking of Red made Green want to punch something. Or rather a certain someone. How could he, the grandson of Professor Oak, always be second best to a mute who didn’t even know who his father was? It seemed illogical, impossible even, for Red to score than higher Green in every exam or for the PE teacher to choose Red to represent the school in the national athletics competition (leaving Green to supervise the junior potato sack race).
Perhaps if his rival had been modest about his accomplishments, Green could have felt sorry for the fatherless mute boy along with everyone else. But Red was anything but humble- quite the opposite, he made it clear that he considered all of his classmates to be beneath his notice. During lunch, Red would purposefully sit alone, despite knowing that as the Pallet sports legend, he would be welcome at any table. Whenever a well-meaning person tried to talk to him outside of school, the mute would simply raise his eyebrows and stare down the offender before they hurried away.
No, it was impossible for Green to pity Red.
***
He could, however, despise him.
***
“Did you hear the news?” Blue chirped into Green’s ear, making it impossible for him to focus on his comic.
What an annoying girl, Blue thought and not for the first time. But Blue was the undisputed queen of gossip, so it made sense to listen to whatever she had to say.
“Viola asked Red out and he said yes. Well, he didn’t say it of course but he nodded. Can you believe that wonderboy actually likes someone? I mean he has some serious ego problems, not to mention the fact that he…”
Green stopped listening.
This has to be a sick joke, one of Blue’s pranks no doubt.
***
But the rumor turned out to be true.
Green saw that for himself when he caught Viola nearly sucking the mute’s lips off after a football game.
He honestly doesn't know what makes him want to hurt Red more, the fact that he is dating the prettiest girl in school or that the mute just scored the winning goal.
***
It’s so easy to lure Viola into the musty smelling sports shed, that it’s almost funny- in a sick and twisted way, of course. The little idiot comes willingly enough and all that Green has to do is tell her that her missing hockey stick (that he stole himself) has been found in the old woodshed on the edge of the school playing fields.
It is almost as easy to hold her down and rip off her skirt.
For some strange reason, he can’t stop thinking of Red- even with a half-naked girl in front of him.
Viola screams that she will tell her parents, the teachers, Red, the damn Pokemon league Champion. Green would go to prison, she’ll make sure of that.
There is a struggle (why?), more screaming (he had expected that) but all it takes is a blow to the head and Viola is silent.
Still, Green keeps hitting her- just in case. By the time he is finished, the mess of blood, skins and muscles could be anyone.
She’s his now, not Red’s.
***
“Green, Green, have you heard? There’s a murderer in our school. I know I shouldn’t say this, but its all so exciting!”
***
Green’s grandfather suggests that Red go on a pokemon journey to help him deal with the trauma. He even gives him a Pokedex because ‘the boy needs something to focus on”
Green insists on having a pokedex too.
Red is given a pokemon.
Of course, Green must have a pokemon too, a better one.
The first time Green and Red battle, the better pokemon loses.
Green can’t help but think that the better trainer lost too.
***
A badge.
Filling up the pokedex.
Another battle with Red.
Another predictable loss.
Another girl is found dead.
But Red can’t die, not yet.
Green needs to beat him first.
***
There are more battles, and more corpses.
When Green defeats Lance, he thinks that he has finally won.
He has in fact lost, even his own grandfather admits as much when he congratulates Red on becoming the Kanto Champion.
Red sneers at the title and leaves Kanto for good, leaving Green to manage the League.
Everyone still addresses Red as the Champion.
***
Some challengers don’t take losing well. Green privately thinks that he has no right to judge them but lectures the beaten trainers anyway.
When a slim willowy haired girl loses to him for the third time, Green flatly tells her to give up and go home.
He ignores the girl’s hysteric outburst and subsequent phone calls (they’re all the same, desperate pleas for a re-match, for a fourth chance at Championship) until he hears from his grandfather that Red is coming back to Kanto.
After wasting four years training on top of a god-forsaken mountain somewhere in Johto, the mute has apparently decided that he wants to be the Champion after all. Gary will be allowed to manage the Gym in Viridian.
He calls the girl, telling her to meet him in a famous café near the equally Celadon Department Store.
***
After learning that the determined little challenger has a history of depression, staging her ‘suicide’ is easy. Why is it always so easy? Where is the challenge?
Green is almost happy when a woman with the red lipstick (could she be Viola, born again to reward him for all his hard his work?) refuses to die easily.
***
Killers are born, not made- Green thinks as he is dying. He was never starved, beaten or even ignored by his parents. Everyone loved him- he certainly had friends. (Green, have you heard? It was all over the tabloids, Red actaully asked me out! I said no, of course. He frightens me, sometimes…)
Killers are born, not made- but then how can he explain a boy called Red?