CHAPTER 4: Prelude
A soft click interrupted the tranquility of the darkened room. It was just enough to stir Latias’s consciousness. A second later, a steady hum rang out behind her head. She sat up, shed the layers of sheets, and turned. The red digits glared back at her.
Suddenly, the whirring was harshly interrupted by a swelling, static-sounding electric guitar rift. She flinched and her eyes widened in horror.
A hand thrust itself from beneath the covers and jammed a button on the clock, abruptly ending the cacophony.
Nadroj groaned and sat up.
Latias stared at him, surprised. “So it’s one of those clock-slash CD-player hybrids?”
“I guess,” he replied, rubbing the gunk from the corners of his eyes.
Although not visible in the dark, she could sense that he hadn’t fully woken up yet. Nonetheless, she had questions about the unsettling noise. “Who was that?” she asked critically.
“Justice,” Nadroj shot back. “It’s a band.”
“Never heard of them before, but ‘injustice’ sounds more fitting if you ask me,” she snorted.
This prompted a chuckle from Nadroj.
“What? What’s so funny? That thing scared me to death! I thought it was going to blow up or something!” she protested, humor in her voice.
“So you thought that my clock-radio was a bomb?” he stated incredulously.
“No, I thought that Justice-I mean Injustice was a bomb!”
This earned another chuckle from Nadroj. Latias smiled and shook her furry head. She decided to end her probing, knowing that the more she pursued, the more delusional she would sound.
A quick glance at the clock revealed a time of five-thirty A.M. Nadroj’s parents would not even think about waking up for another hour. The two tiptoed down a pitch-black stairwell and made their way into the kitchen and dinning room area. They turned on a light to ward off the darkness of the pre-dawn hours.
Latias sat across from him: green t-shirt and blue jeans.Her sharp brown eyes watched him closely. Her face bore an almost-cheerful smile, her loose, amber-colored hair came down neatly behind her shoulders. It contrasted Nadroj’s lopsided, curly mop.
He squinted at the oddity. “Why are you happy?” he asked sourly.
Latias smiled even wider. “Because it’s morning. It’s the start of a new day and…um…It’s the start of the new day! Just think about it. Aren’t you thankful that you didn’t get captured by those thugs?”
In the blink of an eye, memories flooded back to him. Adrenaline pumping, shouts behind him: terror. He brushed them aside and replied, “Yes, yes I am…I’m not a morning person, I guess.”
“I don’t understand your type. I mean…we went to bed around ten, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And we woke up at five-thirty. That’s seven-and-a half hours of sleep…plus or minus…minus more likely. But on the plus side, you did have my ultra-soft fur.”
“I did, but your breath was really…bad. Awful, actually. I shouldn’t have given you that pizza.”
“So that’s what did it! That’s why you’re tired right now!”
“No. I’m always tired in the morning.”
“Oh…” she thought, enthusiasm toning down a notch. “Yeah…I still don’t understand how someone can be tired when they’ve gotten enough sleep.”
“I can see that,” Nadroj said, yearning for the energy of the bubbly Latias.
After finishing bowls of cereal, the two set off into the morning. It was cold, but not bitingly so. Up ahead, above the silhouette of suburbia loomed a pink glow that illuminated a cloud-scattered sky.
“Look at the sunrise. It’s going to be a nice day. You’ll see,” Latias chirped from his side.
“I’m not a morning person, so don’t try to make me into one: you’re wasting your time,” Nadroj thought with a glint of amusement.
“Fine,” she huffed in mock-annoyance.
They walked a solid mile through the concrete maze. It was dead at this time of morning: they didn’t encounter a single car. The drone of vehicles from a distant highway served as the background for an occasional Pokémon bark or whimper.
Nadroj’s morning went as usual only with an exception: Latias. He rushed from one jam-packed class to the next, lecture after lecture, assignment after assignment. There were no Pokémon. In fact, the word “Pokémon” was mentioned just short of a dozen times. More frequently-used words (which also appeared his ink-smeared notes) included “type”, “item”, and “The Law of Battle”. For the duration of the morning Latias sat in back of each class, all but one oblivious to her presence.
Finally, lunch period arrived. Nadroj heaved his orange tray over to an empty table on the perimeter and slammed it down. He took off his pack and seated himself on a circular, plastic chair. Latias took the seat opposite from him.
His face registered shock. “Wait a minute…you’re visible!”
“To you I am but to everyone else, I’m not,” she thought quickly. “I can choose who I’m visible to…kind of selectively.”
“But I didn’t see you in class.”
“Really? Then I guess I’m stealthy like…a Skitty!”
“Must have been.”
He sighed almost exhaustedly. This Pokémon had a habit of pulling out one surprise after another, all of which seemed perfectly normal to her. However, she did not seem like a Pokémon. In fact, putting that label on her was almost offensive. She could speak, she had the maturity of a human adolescent. Most mold-breaking of all, she sat before him in human flesh.
Just what was she? His investigative mind was tormented with this question, her constant surprises only made him even more curious. She was interesting and he liked that.
“Alright...I’ll admit that Skitty analogy was stupid,” she thought, casting her gaze downward.
“No it was fine, really. I hate it when a stray Skitty comes out of nowhere and brushes up against my leg. If you really want to know what’s stupid…” he gave a nod to the contents of his lunch tray: a grilled cheese sandwich and a Styrofoam bowl of steaming tomato soup.
“A grilled cheese sandwich. Come on! Even I could make something that would taste better than melted cheese between two slices of bread, and the soup…I swear that they gave us larger bowls six months ago.”
Latias gave him a thin smile. “Rising food prices. The prices rise by two times and the suppliers raise their prices by three times and downsize the portions.”
“Yeah it does seem kind of scam-ish,” he agreed.
The two consumers decided to split the meal: Latias taking the soup and Nadroj taking the sandwich. Both concurred it was less than subpar before also concurring this was due largely to the fact that the meal was only meant to feed one hungry, growing adolescent: not two.
“So this is it?” Latias asked, shoveling the last of the soup into her mouth. “No battles or anything like that?”
“I never said there would be.”
“Yes, but I thought something a bit more exciting would happen.”
Nadroj emitted a chuckle. “Nothing exciting ever happens here.”
“Yesterday?”
Shouts, mud stained clothes, body sweating, yet frigid while demanding oxygen: it all came back to him.
“That’s not the kind of exciting I envisioned,” he replied, pleasant demeanor downing a notch.
“Me neither,” she admitted while cursing herself for bringing the subject up.
She glanced around the table. They were all alone. If either one were to walk out a few feet, they would have become part of the swirling hive of tables and students, talking amongst their friends, hugging each other for unknown reasons, and scurrying from group to group. It was frightening.
“There are about five-hundred people in here,” Nadroj thought.
“Yeah…that’s scary.”
“I agree.”
“Have you ever had to stand up and give a presentation before…I mean in front of all these people?”
“No, thankfully, although I do have to get up in front of class pretty often. Now that’s scary. Your vision starts tunneling, your face turns red, you start sweating-”
“I know, I know! Like my armpits. Whenever I have to talk in front of class they get really…sweaty, so much so that it soaks through my shirt.”
“Ay, that must be embarrassing,” Nadroj cringed.
“It is, it is. I’ve tried everything. Deep breaths, shirts that are two sizes too-large, even men’s deodorant.”
A quick smile flashed across Nadroj’s face when the latter was mentioned.
“What? You think that’s funny? I’m trying this stuff that they show men wearing in commercials…tall, muscular men who look like they beat people up for a living! It seems to work just fine for them…or so they say. And yet when a skinny fourteen-year old girl tries it, it fails miserably! Something’s screwed up.”
“Yeah, the commercial is,” Nadroj laughed.
“Unfortunately…it’s really a shame that they always have to be blatantly inaccurate,” she contemplated.
Nadroj stood, slung his pack over his shoulders, and grabbed the tray, now occupied by an empty Styrofoam bowl and plate. He shoveled its contents into a nearby trashcan and added it to the stack on its top.
He then turned to the sea of people and tables.
“This is like a video game, it always is,” he remarked ironically before diving in with Latias following. They weaved in and out of the masses, dodged oncoming entities, and sliding between tables, snippets of conversation crowding their audio channels.
Finally, they arrived at the other end of the room where the traffic was much less dense. The background noises faded out behind them.
“That was like a video game!” Latias exclaimed. “There aren’t that many people at my school.”
“So…you go to school?”
“Yes.”
“But you can’t talk. Do you know sign language or something?”
“I tried to learn it at one time, but no, I don’t. It was way too complicated. I prefer paper and pencil, a keyboard…or PowerPoint if I’m doing a big presentation. Usually I have a notepad up at the same time so I can add my little commentary-stuff.”
“Strange. They didn’t force you to learn sign-language or anything?”
“Nope. In their eyes, I’m a frikking prodigy,” she thought with a giggle. “I learned to read at two and write at three. By the time I was four, I was hardcore into writing. Most of my stuff was minimal, kind of poetry-ish. Some of it got published in assorted children’s anthologies. It wasn’t until I was five that I started writing theses for philosophy. They were great for a five-year old but on a broader playing field…not so good. No one ever forced me to learn sign language because I never really needed it to get around.”
“That’s…cool. Do you still do philosophy stuff?”
She stopped in her tracks, turned around, and motioned for him to follow. They stood on the very edge of the chaos.
“What do you notice about the people here…do you see any patterns?” she asked.
He scanned the tables upon tables of swarming students. Nothing was extraordinarily apparent.
“All right. Look at that table,” she pointed.
He beheld a group of black-hooded, sullen-looking boys who held their heads low. They were stooped like a group of dead trees.
She then thrust her finger at another table. Seated at this one were white clothed students with hair that came in every color of the rainbow and every gel-formed shape imaginable. Nadroj could tell that they seemed to be talking as they ate, mouths moving at an incredible speed and bodies constantly swaying.
“Individuals have a tendency to separate out into groups when subjected to an environment where multiple individuals are present. This is because bonding with like people shields yourself from unlike people…That’s the gist of it, anyways.”
They turned and proceeded back down the hall.
“Is it some sort of survival mechanism…I mean…from our primitive ancestors or something,” Nadroj questioned, intrigued by the statement.
“Yeah, it kind of is but-“she paused mid-sentence and shot a glance to the left. The hall branched off into a stairwell.
“How tall is this building?”
“Four stories.”
“And that leads to the top?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I climb it? I’m curious as to what the view looks like.”
He shot a glance at a clock behind him. Twelve twenty.
“Class starts in ten minutes and I want to be there: now. I guess you could go on your own. The next room isn’t too far from here. You just have to walk a little ways more down the hall, exit into the courtyard, then go left down a gap between the two buildings the first door on the right is the room.”
“Ok, got it!”
A few minutes later, he was in the courtyard: a small concrete pad enclosed by brick buildings. Why had she left him to climb a staircase? He did a quick three-sixty. Nobody was here yet: lunch was not officially over. However, he felt anxious, paranoid even.
He passed between two of the buildings. All at once, his worry had become founded. At the far end of the brick-tunnel was a figure with a black cap perched upon his head.
Nadroj’s body tensed up and his mind contemplated whether to fight or to fly. The figure was now barreling toward him. He had reached a decision: fly. He turned on his heels and raced back into the courtyard.
Before him, an all-too familiar blue flicker bounced off the pavement. He was reliving the nightmare of yesterday.
He defied instinct and whipped a glance backward. Approaching was a green-winged bug Pokémon: Dustox.
“That thing’s going to put me to sleep!” he thought desperately. “The door! That’s it, the door!”
He sprinted toward the entrance that he had used just moments ago. For a second he thought that he would reach asylum.
Then at the last dismaying second, the bug Pokémon zipped in front of him. He whirled away from the Dustox and ran, only to find himself facing a brick wall. He turned around yet another time and again faced the Pokémon.
He sidestepped. The Pokémon sidestepped with him. He lunged forward. The Pokémon lunged backward. He was trapped.
“Latias!” he screamed with his thoughts.
“What?” an anxious voice came back.
“Get down to the courtyard right now! Those guys...they’re here for me!”
“How many-“
“There’s no time! Move! Get here!”
“Right,” she thought shakily.
By this time, the trainer had caught up with his Pokémon. The two had Nadroj cornered. Odds were not in his favor.
The thug’s pudgy, upturn-lipped face said in a deep voice, “Boss’d like to talk to you.”
“W-why?” Nadroj stuttered feeling the color drain in his face.
“Don’t know, none of my business,” he growled.
“Well-well you can’t make me come with you!” he shouted, attempting to sound fierce. “I have to do something…but what?” he fumed to himself.
His mind reached a conclusion: it was now time to fight. As foolish as it may have been, it was the only option that he had.
Slowly, uncertainly, he extended a hand before him. He closed his eyes and envisioned himself. He was a being of energy: pure energy. His body trembled, almost as if it was under the influence of a seizure. His energy built and stretched like a rubber band. It grew, and grew, and grew until it could stretch no more, its full potential at the tips of his fingers.
“Put him to sleep!” he heard the thug cried out desperately, voice laced with uncertainty. “Do it-“
From beneath the boy’s eyelids, the world flashed a brilliant white. There was no sound. There was no feeling. There was no smell. The world became dull and listless. His consciousness was lowered into the oblivion.
Nothing was left.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile, a man was pounding down the hall, his weight burdening the concrete floor. He had a rather full belly that stretched a solid two inches past his belt and threatened to tear the seams of his blue suit. He was short in stature and yet appeared to be a rather vain individual. A neatly trimmed red mustache sat above his lip and what he had for scalp-hair was combed down neatly.
He was flanked by two black-haired men in sunglasses and crisp suits. They looked sharp, official.
“I must say, sir,” one of them began. “This school is standard…more than standard. While grades and enrolment are on the downswing in the neighboring districts, this one seems to be defying the trend. It makes me wonder why we even have to do an inspection…”
“It really does,” the short man huffed. He himself also wondered why he was wasting his time at this place. There were no policies to be amended, no restructuring, no gangs to deal with. It was boring, or so he thought.
That was until a bald-headed, tall man materialized from around the corner and barreled toward the threesome. It was just enough to evoke a flinch of surprise.
The entity was trembling and his forehead glistened. “Sir…there’s been an…um…incident that could very well be considered a breach in national security.”
“You’re serious?” the red-haired individual barked skeptically at the timid man.
“Yes-yes sir. It was captured on security cameras. However…it may be best for your men to seize the area…We do not want anyone to see it; we do not want emergency services to come. It could raise panic.”
“My gosh…” his jaw dropped. “This must be big! What is it…a rabid Pokémon or something?”
The man locked cold blue eyes with the official and uttered the least-expected word: “Psychics.” ____________________________________________________________________________
She vaulted down the empty stairs, long stride enabling her to take two at a time. With every leap came a new surge of blood. Her heart threatened to pound out of her chest, her mouth was dry.
“Nadroj?” she projected with her thoughts.
No answer: all the more reason to worry. Had he been kidnapped? Was he unconscious? Or even worse…she did not want to envision this possibility.
Upon reaching the bottom, she turned sprinted down the hall that lead out to the courtyard.
She was so blinded by concern that she almost didn’t notice the mound of flesh standing before the exit. It was a black-suited, white man with sunglasses and a solemn face.
“A guard?” she asked herself in confusion.
Thankfully, the man could not see Latias: she was invisible. Even more thankfully, there was more than swinging door. The flux of traffic during passing times was large enough to require multiple doors at main entrances.
She pushed through an unblocked door and witnessed a scene that elicited as much confusion as it did fear.
Sprawled out on the concrete were a brown-haired individual, a bug-looking Pokémon, and a bulky, black-clothed man. It was a battlefield where everyone had lost and yet she saw no signs of carnage. No blood, no blackened pavement, no weapons. There were just three individuals who had passed out…with a black-suited guard standing over them.
She let out a sigh that was dismay, then frustration, and then indecision. What should she do? If she helped Nadroj, surely she would be noticed and surely something would happen. She would get taken in once more by the crime group along with Nadroj. However, if she left she would be free and-
“No! That’s stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!” she scolded herself.
And then another fact became apparent. The man on the ground wore a black sweater with black pants and a cap. The guard standing before him wore a black suit. Although the same color, their uniforms as well as current positions did not match. The two individuals were not of the same origin!
As unsettling as this was, she knew that she had to act. She stepped forward shakily and let her invisibility fall. No need to retain secrecy for what was about to be done.
The guard instantly came to attention, shocked at the sudden appearance of the human girl.
“Stop…please!” he stammered.
She drew in a sharp breath and continued to approach the wreckage.
“I said stop!”
She narrowed her amber eyes at him, attempting to appear intimidating while simultaneously inching closer to Nadroj’s body.
The guard’s confidence wavered. Who was this girl who had appeared out of nowhere? Why wasn’t she talking? Why didn’t she show him the respect that he was usually given on the streets of Fortuna? To behave this way, he concluded that she must have something to back it up with. Either that or she was crazy. He would assume the former for the time being. He would have to observe before making a definitive move.
Finally, Latias was hovering over Nadroj’s unconscious form. His face was a ghost-white. She dropped to her hands and knees and focused on his stomach. It rose and fell ever so slightly. Yes! He was only unconscious. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to speed his awakening.
She jammed a hand to his moist forehead, squeezed her eyes shut, and focused, willing every ounce of her being into the connection between their sweaty skin. After a time she sensed that she was getting to him. Relieved, she removed her hand and glanced down.
His now open eyes were vague, distant as they stared up at the overcast sky.
“I guess I am psychic,” he thought with a grim smile.
He sat up and viewed the carnage before him: the thug and his Dustox, cold bodies lying on even colder concrete.
“Did they…die?”
As if to answer his question, a deep male voice replied, “They did not die. However, you did manage to give them a beating…somehow. It would be safe to assume that they will be out for awhile.”
Nadroj’s head swiveled around to see a broad, white man in sunglasses and a black suit. His pulse immediately quickened.
“We-we’ve gotten ourselves into something big. That guy is a member of the Elite Guard…kind of like a police officer, only higher-ranking. He’s an agent employed directly by the federal government.”
“So he’s not a member of that group?”
“No. He still does present a problem-“
“I believe,” the man interrupted the mental conversation. “that my employer would wish to have a discussion with you. Your abilities are ones that are considered…of interest,” he said, giving and nod at Nadroj.
“And I also have a feeling that he may take interest in your ability as well,” he said, giving a nod to Latias.
“You’re visible!” Nadroj stormed.
“Yes…when I saw you lying on the ground, I thought about running away, I honestly did. But then I thought for a moment and realized that if I ran, they would lock you up and run experiments on you for the rest of your life. I don’t think I could live with that on my conscience.”
“But why show yourself…couldn’t you have healed me while staying invisible?”
“Yes but revealing myself…It-it’s the only hope of getting you out of this. Both of us out of this I should say. Alone, I don’t think that you could do much to resist them. With me though, your options are broadened. And besides, I don’t think I could bear the thought of practically turning you into your own government while I get off scot-free.”
Nadroj let out a heavy sigh. “You have some plan to get us out of this, right?”
“No.”
“Thought as much.”
The agent sensed the apprehension among the two. “Perhaps my employer’s request was a bit…bold. Perhaps I should ask him to-“
“We’re fine, we can see him,” Nadroj croaked.
“See, he’s scared,” Latias thought. “He doesn’t know what he can expect to find within us.”
“But how will that help?”
“I don’t know! I’m thinking, I’m thinking! Maybe we could-”
“Run? Then they’ll post our faces everywhere and we’ll get caught in no time. Latias, this is
the Elite Guard. There’s no way in heck that they’re going to let us get off the hook. This is serious.”
“Ok…ok…” she gasped, folding hands behind her back and pacing. “Wait…AltoMare. It’s not part of Fortuna: it’s a separate country! If we could just-“
“My employer is waiting,” the polished voice came from behind, now with a trace of impatience.
The two could not put off the ordeal any longer. Latias stepped in front of Nadroj’s sitting form, grabbed both wrists and pulled him to his feet.
Out of the corners of his vision, white spots twinkled in and out like stars in the night sky. Suddenly his limbs had become blocks of lead.
“Are you okay?” Latias asked, amber eyes squinting into his.
“I feel…tired,” he grunted, realizing that his legs were giving out. He fell forward, both hands hitting the concrete. Two arms encircled themselves around his waist and pulled him back to a standing position. She then moved to his side and extended an arm to his far shoulder.
“Just lean on me. Do you feel like you’re going to pass out?” she enquired hastily.
“No and thanks…I’m just kind of weak. Does this happen every time you do psychic…stuff?”
“It did when I first starting using my power.”
He breathed a silent sigh of relief, tension eased ever so slightly. Then, tension spiked again when his arm closest to Latias’s side brushed up against something moist and warm. He looked downward to see that there was a dark-green spot on Latias’s otherwise light-green t-shirt. It extended from her underarm almost to her hip.
She flashed the surprised Nadroj a thin smile that seemed to say, “Told you so.”
Click! A metallic sound rang out. They whirled around to catch the guard sliding a black implement out of his pocket: loaded and ready to deal justice to whomever its master saw fit.
“Standard protocol,” he spoke evenly. “I hope you’ll understand. Although your intentions look benevolent enough, one can never be too sure.”
August 14th, 2008, 06:48 PM
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