Chapter Twenty-Two: How Did We Get Here?
About eight months ago, Charlotte Appleby could have never imagined the situation she was in now, an operative for a terrorist group. She was a successful trainer. Sure, this meant living in makeshift houses, or on the street, but there was always the thrill of battling. The thrill of defiance. The thrill of tomorrow.
She was in the slums of Teartas City. She was, like all trainers, a nocturnal nomad. You couldn't stay in one place for too long, or you'd get captured. And you couldn't operate in the day, or you'd get caught.
"Appleby! Is that you?"
Charlotte turned at the sound of her last name, her scarlet hair flicking behind her. The familiar voice matched a familiar face. "Liam!" She rushed towards him, embracing him. Taken by surprise, he slowly clapped his hands to her back.
Liam was Charlotte's age, and was a bit of a prodigy. Despite having only five years with his Pokémon, his quick thinking and brilliant training strategies made him famous in the world of trainers, infamous in the eyes of the government. And, more recently, the Eyes. He was quite small, had dark brunette hair, and a scraggly, unshaven face. Dark circles were around his eyes for lack of sleep, but he was wearing designer clothes. When you're a trainer, an extra charge of larceny really doesn't make that much difference.
"What are you doing in the city? You'll get caught."
Liam parted with Charlotte, and smiled. "It's Teartas. The Oligarchy is weak here at the moment." He looked around. "Nevertheless, we shouldn't be talking in the open. Come." They half-ran, half-jogged to the nearest manhole, and Liam removed it. Feigning a pompous accent, he stepped aside and winked, "My lady."
As the climbed down, Charlotte asked, "You didn't really do that? You know, before you ran away?"
Liam had been in quite an upper-class Torcran family, before he ran away at the tender age of twelve, attracted to the world of Pokémon. "Ha, no," he answered, jumping down onto the murky water. The sewers of Teartas were the current popular place for trainers.
"Didn't you miss your friends?"
"I only really knew two people. I was in a one-on-one tutor school. One of them, Jim, reveled in his aristocratic status. He was slightly younger than me, and loved his position. A pompous eleven-year-old, for Arceus's sake."
"And the other?"
"Bevan. Son of the Voice. He was always a bit strange, but then… His mother committed suicide. I quite liked him before then, but then he became reclusive, partly due to his father. The apple doesn't usually fall far from the tree, but this one did. And it seems he was being raked in…" Liam made a sad face. "I don't really want to talk about it."
Charlotte smiled. "Then don't. What have you been up to?"
"I came from Route 616. I'm heading to Zetport – there's a bit of a gathering planned there in a few months."
"Isn't Zetport City guarded?"
Liam smiled. "The ports are. That's why you stay away from them. Besides, it's not in the city – more in the country close to it. Do you want to come with me?"
Charlotte made a worried face. "I don't know… travelling in groups is…"
"Pretty fun," winked Liam. "Besides," he laughed, "your street cred will go through the roof if you're seen with me."
"Always blowing your own trumpet," laughed Charlotte, rolling her eyes.
"If I don't, who will?"
"Oh, I don't know, pretty much every young trainer across Torcra?"
"That's true," said Liam, a twinkle in his eye. "So, Charlotte. How about it? Want to come to Zetport?"
"Go on, then," smiled Charlotte. "So, any interesting stories?"
Liam laughed. "In Route 616, a Cloak discovered us. He was a big fella, as well. He sent out a Mismagius against us. Shut him down with my Flynstra."
"How?"
"Lured it underwater, deep down, and while the Cloak was focused on what was happening in the water, I shot him. Returned Flynstra and ran like hell." He sighed. "They're catching onto us using 616, Charlotte."
"They're doing that everywhere."
"Everywhere we've already gone to," winked Liam. "Torcra's a massive region. They'll never be able to truly shut us down." Charlotte stopped, squatting down. Liam leaned against the wall next to her. "So, how have you been? I heard you're making quite a name for yourself, for a trainer who's been going less than a year."
"I suppose you could say that. But I learned from the master."
"No, you didn't," said Liam, uncharacteristically modest. "The only reason I get so much credit is because our trainers are running thin, Charlotte. You listen to the stories of the older trainers, and they talk about some of the greats. My style is highly derivative – I listen to our forefathers, you know?
Before the Oligarchy cared that people did Pokémon. That's when the real experts flourished." Liam's manner of speaking was erratic: he often didn't care for using proper language, but could be very articulate when he wanted to.
They stayed in silence for a while, before Charlotte spoke up. "Before… you said you shot him. How'd you get a gun?"
"Cronine."
"But… arms dealing's dangerous. They're really serious in that business."
Liam shrugged. "I can defend myself well enough. And it's stupid to limit yourself to one mode of defence."
"But it must be weird, shooting a man." Charlotte spoke with an air of coldness in her voice.
"You never killed anyone?"
"No."
"You will. If you don't, they'll get ya. And it feels no different killing with a gun than it does with a Pokémon. They're a human being all the same. But, in self-defence, all's fair."
"Could you… get me a gun? I couldn't."
"Scared?" Liam winked tauntingly.
"Yes," Charlotte admitted. "Back in the cult, I longed for this life. But, a lot of it
is scary. And arms dealing… they mean business."
"The entire underground is serious. It's riddled with secrets. I mean, there's a rumour going around the underworld that could get my head cut off if I tell you."
"Not encouraging me to go there myself."
"What you have to remember is that it's a business. They
want to sell you stuff. They only want to kill you if you make life difficult for 'em."
"Again, there's little encouragement there, Liam." But Charlotte was smiling.
"If you want, I'll get you your own."
"D'you have the money?"
"At the moment, I'm quite in the black."
"Huh?"
"Means 'yes'. In any case, if I don't, I can steal it."
Charlotte still hadn't quite gotten used to the criminal aspect of Pokémon training. Sure, she'd stolen before, once, when she was desperate. But a month later, when she had the money, she mailed it back to the store.
"Hungry?" Liam was unlatching his backpack, and pulled out a sandwich.
"I'm finding it increasingly hard to distinguish hunger from plain old boredom," said Charlotte casually.
Liam knelt down, sandwich in hand. "You're not really coping with the lifestyle, are you?"
Charlotte turned away. "I like some parts… but look at us. Separated from our parents. In a sewer. Talking about stealing things and shooting people."
Liam reached put his hand on Charlotte's shoulder. "As a trainer, you get to see the ugliness of the world in its entirety. But you also get to live it, Charlotte. What's the alternative? Mine was working behind a desk, orchestrating suffering. Yours was to grow up and pump out babies for a cult that you knew, in your heart, didn't have a shred of truth in it."
It was perhaps these words that Charlotte needed to hear, both eight months ago, and now. It was really why she brought this stale memory up. It was these words that she needed to hear, even if it was only a memory. But her old trainer friend was about to have relevance in her life again. More than she could possibly imagine…
Later that night, Bevan's three Pokémon were sitting together, whispering quietly to one another, as they often did at night.
"<Bevan's acting strangely,>" noted Gliscor, looking up at their master. "<He seemed sorry, but…>"
"<He's having trouble dealing with his emotions,>" said Venomoth, fluttering silently through the air. "<He's having a lot of trouble at the moment, and he's still finding himself and his place in the world. At the moment, he's trying to remove feeling from himself.>"
Pupitar leaned back, proud of his trainer. "<That would be… well… I couldn't do it. But, imagine that. He's got guts.>"
"<It's not a good thing,>" admonished Gliscor. "<Emotion drives us! Imagine having no happiness, no drive. Just a vessel of logic.>"
"<And power,>" added Pupitar.
"<Is it worth it, though?>" Venomoth was flapping around, agitated. "<What's the price of power?>"
"<You two are looking at it wrong. It's not about the cost, it's about the reward.>"
"<What happened to you?>" Pupitar was annoyed. "<You used to be fun.>"
"<I evolved,>" Gliscor replied darkly. "<Against my will, if you hadn't noticed. I'm surprised, it seems you didn't gain even a modicum of maturity.>"
Pupitar shot up with surprising speed, when you consider his lack of legs. "<How dare you?>"
Venomoth fluttered between them. "<No! Stop it!>" The fight was downgraded to a fierce staring contest, which was broken immediately by the sound of the door squeaking open.
"<Iserno!>" Venomoth squeaked. "<What are you doing here?>"
Iserno circled Bevan's Pokémon. It looked menacing, but it was simply a matter of habit, his sharp shoulder blades rocking underneath his skin as he strutted, until he finally sat.
"<I was prowling the halls, and overheard your conversation.>"
"<It's rude to eavesdrop,>" said Pupitar, pouty.
Iserno ignored it, and turned his head to Bevan. "<I saw the coldness in your master's eyes in the Pokémon battle. I'm not a Pokémon who's scared easily, but that look sent chills down my spine. Power is a beautiful thing, but if it is not accompanied by passion…>" Iserno turned his head to the group.
"<…Then it's dangerous,>" muttered Venomoth, completing his sentence.
"<Precisely,>" agreed Iserno. "<I like to be strong. I like to win. But it's always accompanied by the thrill of the fight. Always. And I've never met anyone who didn't experience that, or at least a rush of victory at the end.>"
Pupitar felt uneasy. His master was being attacked from all sides. "<But emotion screws you up! It makes you weak!>"
Iserno snarled in disagreement. It wasn't hostile, but he was combative by nature. "<Could
you do it, Pupitar? Feelings make you who you are. You couldn't fight if you were filled with apathy. Because there'd be nothing driving you. If you're not driven by happiness, you're driven by something else.>"
"<Why does that something else have to be bad?>"
"<Because,>" explained Gliscor, "<the only thing left is the most extreme version of totally rational self-interest, but dispassionate. There's only one place where you can go from there: you have to eliminate everything that disagrees with you.>" Gliscor paused for thought. "<You would… have to create your own world, where your rules reigned supreme. You'd have to become the new Oligarchy, or…>" Another pause. "<…Or die trying.>"
Pupitar scoffed. "<That's totally ridiculous.>"
Iserno went to leave, but left with these parting words. "<Pupitar, if I've learned one thing in the world of humans, it's that the ridiculous always prevails over the sensible.>"
