[ WP ] Lt. Surge is in the hospital recovering from PTSD caused by what he saw in the last Pokemon War .

Surge let out a sudden gasp as he stood up straight awakening from his nightmare, a sharp pain filling his bandaged side. In his last battle both sides had committed the War-Crime of attacking humans with murderous intent using their Pokemon. If his Pikachu was a second later in coming to his defense, the Scyther would've cut clean through him rather than just tearing open his side.. 
 
 It was all so much, the violence, the death, and his team had barely been able to make a dent in the enemy's forces.. He should've expected as much, he was a fool just like the other recruits. Only difference is he still had a Pokemon left when they pulled back.. the rest were not so lucky. He slowly tilted himself back as he turned his head to the table at his bedside, a single banged up pokeball sat there in the tray meant for 6. He wondered what it was like for the Nurse Joys, opening PokeBalls from battle and trying to save dying pokemon, or merely opening it up to find them already dead inside. The Nurse Joys were an interesting idea, all the Medics were trained to act joyful and dressed up in those costumes as it gave the recruits a false sense that everything would be alright when they were so.. well, Joyful for the most part. It also made the reality more crushing however.. 
 
 His head turned to the other side to see some of the other recruits, most of them asleep in their bed, though it was n't them he was concerned with. The empty trays laying at their bedside confirmed it to him. He was the only one in the room whose Pokemon survived.. It had gotten too much of a bother to present the news orally to the Soldiers, so after the Nurses attended to the Pokemon the best they could, if any survived they were returned to bedside while the soldier slept. If none survived, they were given an empty tray. 
 
 Overcome with emotion Surge clenched his eyes shut trying to hold back the tears, he was stronger than this dammit! His hand reached out for his PokeBall and pulled it to himself as closely as possible. The other soldiers loved their's too. Some were childhood friends, some were older than they were, there for them since they were born. And they all came in with the delusion that their friendship would outlast the war. He was no different.. he was just lucky. None of them were strong enough, not them, not their Pokemon either. 
 
 Surge slowly opened his eyes yet again, looking down at the PokeBall in his hands, now adorned with his tears. There was one more thing on his bedside, a small case which he reached out for hesitantly before setting it on his lap next to the PokeBall. The case was of moderate size, made from polished wood and was approximately half a foot long and a third a foot wide. His hands still shook, they had n't really stopped since he returned. 
 
 Slowly he undid the clasp on the front of the case and tilted it open, light from the nearby window illuminating the the contents of the case and sending multiple rays of light in different directions as it bounced off the contents of the case. 
 
 The sight of the Thunderstone had never been more conflicted to him before, it was the Surge family treasure and had been in existence for generations. His father had given it to him when he was Drafted as a parting gift with the promise that he'd return it home afterwards. And he had to break the promise. 
 
 He had to be stronger. His Pokemon had to be stronger. Loving his Pokemon as they were meant nothing if they would n't survive the war. `` I'm Sorry Pikachu.. this is for both of us.. We're both going back home. Alive. ``, he uttered in his rather deep voice for a man of his age, voice shuddering with emotion and doubt as he tapped the front button on the PokeBall, so as to release his long-time friend...
