[Pokémon] The Pokémon: Pocket Monsters [PG-13]

[TheReignOverhead]

The Prospect of the Pokémon: Pocket Monsters [PG-13]

BACKGROUND INFORMATION: The Prospect of the Pokémon: Pocket Monsters is a reimagining of the Pokémon video games (this specific story being based on the Generation I R/B/Y games). This also incorporates a lot of the anime into the mix to create a darker version of the Pokémon mythos. This is not in canon with the anime or the games for that matter.

This is what came from an older project of mine titled "Pokemon Rising". I suppose that it more or less evolved (bad pun :P) into this story. Don't worry, I have the entire story laid out, so these chapters aren't just impromptu.

OUTLINE: Told from the perspective of Ash Ketchum, a teenager caught in a world filled with turmoil. Majestic beasts identified as Pokémon roam the landscapes of the last Eden on Earth, Kanto. While the remainder of the world is etched with blackened fields of an unbearable past, those within Kanto and its surrounding regions attempt to resettle and cope with the aftermath of a forbidden end. Though something stirs, a veiled organization taking advantage of the world's broken state: Rocket. Uncivilized mentalities take over, shaping the population into something wicked, cruel and violent.

DISCLAIMER: With this first chapter, it's nowhere near as violent as some of my other stories (though, that is subject to change and most likely will). There is likely to be a large amount of violent scenarios once the story picks up, but I am currently unsure of the magnitude. Nothing that would exceed a PG-13 MPAA rating on film.

For now, I have the first chapter, which is more or less an introduction.

I: I Choose You​

The soft breeze batted my face like an unseen wool blanket; stifling yet reassuring. This summer was a scorching one, and as I sat in the futile shade of a young maple tree, I knew its shadow could give me no protection from the heat. I ate my lunch, silently gazing out at the tall grasses swaying in the low, humid wind. The sandwich bread was soggy, drenched in the condensation lining the plastic bag it was held in. I gagged slightly then swallowed. Sometimes, I'd go out on these picnic excursions to clear my mind and concentrate on nature, life and the beauty of it all. Beside me was an example of this nature; a foot and a half in height and swathed in golden fur like royal robes. Reddish, burned patches of skin on his cheeks bubbled with bluish sparks, being puffed out like smoke from an old steam engine. He was Pikachu, my companion since I was ten years old. It's been four years since I received him as a gift from my mother's friend, Professor Samuel Oak. I remembered years ago, I used to call him Uncle Sam, but no longer. It would be an accidental reference to past politics. I frowned. The world was different today as it had been since before my time.

It was early in June. The rich kids would be finishing up their final weeks of school by now. I couldn't attend. My mother was too poor. That's not to say that we lived on the streets, but she had nowhere near the wealth of professors like Sam Oak. Still, Professor Oak's grandson and my best friend, Gary Oak wasn't one to attend those academies either. He used to, but he dropped out. Once, I asked him why. He told me that school gives people nothing; instead it just fills their brains with useless information. He said nobody needs it in the real world, and after seeing some of his past schoolwork, I couldn't disagree. It was all book smarts, nothing practical. Gary was one of those kids you could always depend on. He was smart, at least, smarter than I was. He had a good head on his shoulders and always knew the right thing to do. I trusted him more than anyone else, including myself. Friendship like that is something you just can't buy – not with money, gifts, deals or bargains.

Pikachu's claws tugged onto the back of my t-shirt. He clambered up onto my shoulder, his reserved seat. I rolled around a capsule in my hands. It was only about the size of a tennis ball and colored halfway red, the other half silver. The reflective surface of the capsule bounced the piercing rays of the sun into my eyes. On the bottom, embossed into the metal was "POKÉBALL IS A REGISTERED TRADEMARK OF SILPH CO." Sometimes I wondered what it was like to be in one of those things. Other times, I was afraid. I enjoyed the presence of these mystifying animals we nicknamed Pocket Monsters (which, somewhere along the line became contracted into "Pokémon"). I wouldn't dare let Pikachu inside of one of these Pokéballs. I could only picture how our technology would cause him discomfort. Could you imagine being sucked into a container one twelfth of your own size? I suddenly remembered a day when I was about nine years old. Gary and I had been fishing at the pond just outside of town when we had come across one of these Pokéballs. It was old, corroded and mottled by the time it spent down in the sludgy dirt lining the pond's floor. We fought, one of the few times we ever did. We clambered over each other, pushing and shoving, trying to get a hold of the rugged capsule for whatever bragging rights little children have. It broke. Deciding that it was a tie, we each kept half. My half was still resting at the bottom of my backpack. I rummaged through its contents, becoming satisfied when I eyed the rusted bit of metal.

Below it all, I saw my Pokédex. It was a fun little invention crafted by Professor Oak. Essentially, it was a handheld encyclopedia on the Pokémon with built in detection for the different kinds. It even had a little calculator and notepad function on it. Mine was a beta version, a test run that the professor gave to me when I was ten. Soon after, he perfected the design and began a production of them out of the mega-corporation Silph Co. Now, many thousands owned them, people from around the world… or at least, what's left of the world.

The world is bleak, well from what I hear anyways. I've never been out of my home region of Kanto, but from what I've overheard, it's practically all that's left. There are rumors that float around of an ashen wasteland stretching for miles past the oceans surrounding us. Others say that it's just deserted. I've seen images on the television, and half of it doesn't look as bad as it sounds, but the other half is unimaginable. It's mostly guerrilla footage; someone stumbling around with an old high-definition handy-cam while people charge each other in the streets. There're a lot of riots and a lot of looting. Thank God that it doesn't happen here… well, not usually.

"Ash!" a woman called out. It was my mother. I could pick out that voice anywhere. Something was different, though. The tone; she sounded concerned.

I stood up. I thought I had told her that I was going out around eleven. Maybe leaving a note on the kitchen table wasn't enough.

"I'm over here!" I called. Pikachu cocked his head. Something was wrong.

My mother, Delia came staggering out from behind a cluster of trees. She was still wearing her favorite white apron, stained with years of cooking and baking. She brushed her dark red hair away from her face and frowned at me, hands on her hips.

"Can you go deal with Gary?" she sighed.

"What's he done now?" I chuckled. My smile faded the instant she did not follow in my laughter. "Aw… Ma, can't his granddad handle it?"

"No," she persisted, "Sam's far too busy right now and I can't talk Gary out of it myself."

"Talk him out of what?" I frowned.

"Follow me," she instructed. I obeyed. She led me through a thick wad of bushes and trees to the main dirt path that carved its way into Pallet Town. Truthfully, it's about the smallest town I've ever been in. It's more of a settlement than a town. Outside of it to the south was a vast collection of farmer's fields that only partially could be considered part of Pallet. Other than that, there were a few dozen houses, a couple stores and Professor Oak's laboratory and office. I thought it was strange that Professor Oak would set up such a scientific undertaking in the tiniest of tiny towns, but the vast variety of plants and animals kept him coming back. He was a biologist specializing in the anatomy and psychological structure of Pokémon… whatever that means. I remember him telling me once, a long time ago. I still didn't get it.

We turned a corner to the street that the Oak family and our family lived on. There, I saw Gary standing in front of his house having a shouting match with his grandfather, who had obviously found a short moment of his time to take a break from his lab work.

"…you'll be caught! Do you plan on me bailing you out?" Professor Oak's face was reddening by the second.

"It's not illegal, granddad!" Gary stomped his foot onto the ground.

"Well that doesn't make it right! Come on, Gary! Use your head!"

Gary rolled his eyes, waving his hand as if to say "whatever…" and turning around. This enraged Professor Oak. He snatched his teenage grandson by the collar and flipped him around to face him. Before he could say anything, though, I approached.

"What's going on?" I asked, looking at them both.

Gary broke free of Professor Oak's grasp. The old professor was astonished at my sudden arrival.

"I'm leaving," Gary announced.

"Where?" I asked, "Where do you think you're going? Where do you have to go to?"

"He's a battler," Professor Oak said, tossing his wispy gray hair away from his eyes and adjusting his lab coat.

"Trainer," Gary corrected with a smirk on his face, juggling a single Pokéball in his hands. I knew it to be Squirtle, the miniature titan of water.

"Oh!" Professor Oak exclaimed sarcastically, "So you train them! To do what? Rip each other's heads off?"

"It's like boxing, granddad!" Gary insisted, "They fight for money!"

"Well that's different and not much better anyways!"

In this age, Pokémon are huge issues with huge controversy. If it's not the Pokéballs being considered unethical treatment, then it's the brawling. It doesn't help that there mostly aren't laws prohibiting most of these things, but they aren't legalized either. I have to admit, there's a great deal of money in Pokémon fights, but the whole thing sickens me.

"Why would you do something like that?" I piped up.

"Squirtle likes it," Gary said proudly, "It makes him tough." It was such a childish statement that I never expected him to make.

"I don't believe you!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms into the air in exasperation, "You, Gary Oak, a Pokémon brawler. I thought you'd be better than all of this!"

"Trainer," Gary corrected once more.

"Whatever!" I rolled my eyes.

"Just let it go, Ash!" Gary snapped. He stuffed Squirtle's Pokéball into his backpack and he threw it over his shoulder. "I'm leaving now," he continued, "So unless you have anything meaningful to say…"

His voice trailed off, but I understood what he had said. I just couldn't believe it. How could none of this be meaningful to him? He began to walk away, northward to the exiting route from the town. I stopped him.

"Seriously," I said, standing in his way, "Where's this going to get you? What do you have to gain from this?"

"Cash," he answered, "Notoriety, a reputation… stuff like that."

I scoffed, "A reputation? Who cares about how infamous you are? It's just gonna go to your head. It means nothing. Absolutely nothing! As for the money; you're virtually rich, Gary! Even I need money more than you do!"

"You can come along if you'd like," he said, raising an eyebrow. I frowned at the suggestion. Why bother even having such an idea?

"No," I said flatly, "It's vile."

Gary just stared at me for a few seconds before attempting to walk around me. I stepped in front of him once more.

"Get out of my way, Ash," he commanded. I defied. Instead, I planted my feet firmly onto the ground.

"Look," I said, desperately trying to talk sense into him, "I know that if I had a choice between a life of violence or staying here with you guys, then I'd choose you. I always hoped you'd do the same, but instead, you choose them."

"Move, Ash," he ordered. Unexpectedly, I felt all my air rush out of my lungs and my head being drilled into the ground. I rolled around in the grass, gasping for breath. Gary had punched me. He actually punched me.

I looked up. I saw his fuzzy shape marching down the road leading out of town. Screw you, I thought, we don't need you here. We're far better off without someone condoning that violence here. I groaned in pain. For a second, I was unsure what that pain was. Whether it was the bruise I probably had ballooning on my chest or the fact that I was watching my best friend walk away from me. "I choose you…" yeah right.

---

"…and the male Nidorino is defensive. With its mate secured within its nest, it guards the way from potential predators…" the television narrator had a thick British accent. He was one of those old men they hire for every single documentary.

"A Gengar appears. These beasts are baffling in method and hunt with a brute force attack…"

The minuscule, horned mammal on the screen waddled back and forth slightly, raising purplish hackle-like dorsal fins on its back to increase its size ever so slightly. The Gengar, a lumbering giant shrouded in shaggy coal-black fur approached. It slashed at the Nidorino with its claws the size of meat cleavers. Pikachu and I sat on my bed, watching lazily.

"…the Gengar makes its move…"

The Nidorino growled. Suddenly, it charged towards the Gengar, extending a skeletal horn from between its eyes. The Gengar was too slow to move…

"…the defense of the Nidorino is perfect."

The Gengar slumped to the ground, dying or dead. It twitched. Blood was forming into a circular puddle around it. Sometimes, it astonished me what gratuitous violence they could show on television. I threw a pillow over my head and groaned. I looked to my bedside clock which read 8:56 PM. I sighed. Slowly I stood up and shuffled out to the kitchen where my mother sat reading the evening paper.
I sat down. It was silent. Nothing was said until, after several minutes, my mother spoke up.

"You tried your best," she said, "That's all that matters. You know Gary. He can be quite stubborn sometimes."

I looked up at her. "I'm going after him," I said.

She watched me for a few seconds, perhaps trying to see if I was joking or not. After a few seconds, she answered.

"Please don't…"

"Ma, he's gonna get himself hurt. There're gangs involved in these fighting rings. Cops don't do anything about them, and it's not like they can either. I can't let him do this."

"I know, but you have to let others do something. You can't just walk out there on your own."

"I can. I will. No matter what you say, I will. I have to follow him. I have to do this."

"No, you don't," she insisted, "Besides, look at this…"

She flung the newspaper out in front of me. On the cover was a fuzzy digital photo; more guerrilla journalism. In what I could make out, something had blown up. Rubble littered a busy street while flames licked the underside of an overturned semi. I glanced at the headline, "ROCKET SUSPECTED IN VICIOUS ATTACK." I hadn't a clue who or what Rocket was, but it didn't sound good.

"That's exactly the reason I'm going after him. I can't let him get hurt," I said finally.

"Can't we just contact authorities or something?" my mother said, "He was heading north. That's Viridian. Maybe we should call the Viridian City Police. Maybe they'll…" She stopped mid sentence. I knew she had lost her point and couldn't finish.

"He's fourteen, Ma. They can't do anything about him leaving home. As of a few weeks ago, it's completely legal."

She frowned, "I still don't like the idea of you following him."

"I'll be okay, Ma…"

She didn't say anything more. She sighed and returned to her paper. I stood up, turned around and went back to watch more of that ridiculously violent documentary. Maybe, by the time I got there, something else would be on TV.

 

[TheReignOverhead]

II: The Emergency​

I awoke early the next morning. Hastily, I scribbled a goodbye note for my mother with a dull pencil and left it on the kitchen table. Hopefully she'd notice it. I packed my backpack in silence, hoping not to wake my mother in the early hours. I jammed whatever I could find that may be useful into that pack of mine that I had so often used for my picnics. Clothing of any sort that still fit me, deodorant, soap, toothbrush and toothpaste; I even remembered Pikachu's Pokéball which he never used. In the years I had owned him, I had sketched a lightning bolt into the red paint on the surface of the top half. It seemed somewhat symbolic, but ultimately pointless. As I took one final glance at my bedroom, something told me that when I returned, things weren't ever going to be the same.

The morning air was cold, still immature in its presence, returning from yesterday through the lateness of the still night. Somewhere out there Gary was alone, possibly staying at one of the hotels out in Viridian City to the north. Perhaps he was awake already, out doing training with Squirtle. Maybe they were fighting. Each moment of waiting drained some of Gary's innocence to the point where I couldn't stand it. I had to keep going.

Pikachu clambered up to his perch on my shoulder. His claws tugged at my shirt as I began walking. I scrambled in my backpack for my Pokédex and I flipped it open. Going to the map section, I opened up some GPS application. The road to Viridian was incredibly short compared to the distances between most cities and towns in the country. If the entire place were on flat land, I would be able to partially see its skyscraping towers from my backyard. The first road, conveniently named Route One led through the murky Viridian Forest to the metropolis beyond. I stuffed the Pokédex into my pocket, not knowing when I'd need it next. It was nearly useless to me now.

The trees enclosed around me as I entered the woods. The sun wasn't shining this morning. A thick layer of rainclouds blotted the sky, threatening to vomit forth their contents upon this clammy island region. The trees had no shadow to cast upon me as I trudged down the broken path. Pikachu's head darted around as his curious eyes caught sight of the wildlife surrounding; hares, foxes and owls all sliding back out of sight upon seeing us.

The thought of Gary, battered, bruised and bloody crossed my mind. It alone was a horrible sight, but what of his pet? The images of him and Squirtle lying on the ground bleeding was almost too much for me to bear. I needed to stop him, wherever he was going and wherever he was right now. Suddenly, I could see striking pictures in my head, playing like old home movies never recorded: Gary sat in the grass of his front lawn, I was next to him, we were eight years old. He bashed two plastic figures of a Gengar and a Nidorino together, singing an stupid little rhyme to himself, "I want to be the very best, like nobody ever was. To catch them is my real test, but to train them is my cause." As I came to think about it, the two toys he was fiddling with were representative of the same animals on the documentary the night previous. It seemed odd. Something was off. I shook my head, it couldn't be. My mind must be making some confusion. Memories are memories and old ones at that. Besides, even if they were, what significance was that?

On my tenth birthday, he had pushed me around because his grandfather had given me Pikachu, yet he didn't receive anything. For ages he pestered me, wanting to hold him and train him to attack using those peculiar electric talents. Soon after, Professor Oak gave him Squirtle. All was well.

Then, it was sometime last year where he began watching those internet videos of Pokémon fights. I don't know what exactly attracted him to them, but I reckon it was the excitement. Just the thrill of it all seemed to propel him to watching these events. I didn't understand it. It sickened me. He told me his ambitions. We argued. We hadn't been on as good of terms since. Just this moral rift between us was ever so slowly tearing us apart, the one thing I feared the most. Still, the occurrences of yesterday afternoon still came to me as a shock. I never expected him to follow through with it.

Now, ahead I faced the source of that fear. It began as a slight ruckus through a tangled net of trees, but it soon escalated to screams. Something extremely large was pawing the ground beyond.

I passed by, not paying much attention to the angry screams of the children younger than I. They stood opposite each other, with both their Pokémon standing menacingly in the middle, staring each other down with bloody scratched faces. I recognized the first animal immediately as a Venusaur. It was broad, bluish in hue and with a hulking growth of plant matter on its back like a turtle's shell. The second creature seemed shadowy, though I distinguished it after a few minutes as the great winged beast Charizard. It startlingly crossed my mind how these two young kids, no older than ten had gotten their hands onto these magnificent creatures.

"What do you think you're doing!?" I cried out, alarming both of the children and their beasts. The first child turned to me, cocking an eyebrow like an old western anti-hero.

"Get lost!" he sneered. I could never take kids seriously when they do this. They act like the stereotypical tough guy whenever they want to show off, but really, they just make themselves look even worse.

My mind was reeling, searching its shallow library of contents to try to find an excuse for my intrusion. Hastily throwing something together, I said while pointing to their great lizards, "This disturbs the forest. We have laws about it. Take it elsewhere."

The expressions on their faces afterwards was priceless. I thought it was pretty good. At least they believed me. At once, they flipped out shimmering red Pokéballs and recalled their monsters. The imagery of such creatures being returned to their confinement was still quite eerie to me. The giant animals vaporized foggily with a thunderous scarlet flash into an inhalation of light and particles quickly accelerating back into the capsules. The children fled without a single word more to me or each other. I smiled, perhaps I had done a good deed today.

I turned away and back to the beaten path. Something glistened in whatever light was filtered through the thick clouds. It was reflective, metallic. I approached it, trying to identify its shape. Within a yard of it, I saw that it was nothing more than an old orange bicycle with chipped paint and a green weaved basket fastened to the handlebars. At first, I thought nothing of it, but then my brain began to do the simple situation addition. It was a bike, possibly one of the few things that could cut my time in half for reaching Viridian. I pulled it away from the tree it was resting against and I adjusted myself on the seat. It hadn't been here too long. I figured it must have belonged to one of the children who had ran off. Right now, I really could care less if they were going to come back for it or not. I had some awful contempt towards them at the moment that wasn't likely to be relieved any time soon.

I began pedaling over the rugged path with rocks and dead tree limbs causing rather painful bumps along the way. The bike definitely wasn't built for this type of riding at all. Pikachu's claws tightened on my shoulder, digging into my skin. I could feel the nails piercing the top layers of my clothing and drawing blood. I cringed. Quickly, I snatched him with my right hand and nestled him in the basket on the handlebars. There, he curled up into a tiny ball. I had never rode a bicycle with him before, so the experience was new and quite frightening.

Thunder rumbled overhead, though I never caught sight of the lightning. Seconds later, it began to rain and it rather powerfully. It was cold, like tiny icy mallets smashing and exploding on my exposed skin. Water splashed down onto the path, melding with the soil and becoming slipperier by the second. I hated rain. It would always get me nervous and agitated. It was an unfortunate disposition. My hand slipped from the handlebars and the bike rapidly fell out of my control. I toppled over the handlebars and went flying forward, taking Pikachu along for the ride. There was that uncomfortable yanking sensation in my stomach as I realized I was without ground below me. There was some muddy cliff that I was flung over, blasting through a clump of trees that whipped at my face, slicing my cheeks. I hit something cold and wet below. Something else flashed past my foggy eyes, maybe a person. I couldn't tell. My head was filled with a piercing pain. My eyelids flickered, then closed.


---


Something walked in front of me. I furrowed my brow, trying to concentrate on the shapes. It was like waking up in the morning to see the alarm clock still read four AM, though my eyes were still straining to see. The ghastly pain returned, a terrible throbbing sensation tearing through my cranium. I reached out and pulled myself up. I came to understand that it wasn't raining any longer, in fact, it looked as though I was indoors. Indistinguishable shapes sat beside me. As they came into focus, I defined one as fleshy and egg shaped, the other as fleshy and human shaped. I played this thought over and over again in my head and I snorted in laughter, then shot my hands upward and held my head from the pain shooting through it.

"What's so funny?" it was a girl's voice. That's something I hadn't heard for a while. I rubbed my eyes, trying to make out her face. I was in a hospital, on a hospital bed. I wasn't wearing the clothes I had left my house in, instead I was dressed in those stupid linens. My hair was wet, presumably my clothing was as well. The other, egg-shaped thing at my bedside was a Chancey, the motherly creature. Fuzzy pink tendrils dripped to the sides of its small face nestled atop an enormous belly with a pocket nesting an egg that was obviously not its own. The Chancey saw my awake state, nodded briefly, then turned around and waddled out the door. I turned to the girl sitting in the chair to my right. Her hair was vibrant and red, wrapped into a ponytail at the side of her head. She wore loud colors of yellow, red and blue that were slightly diluted by the dust upon the fabric.

"What happened?" I grunted, stretching my legs and rubbing my eyes. The girl sighed. I assumed she rolled her eyes. I sat up.
The girl adjusted her position in her seat, then spoke while looking down at a crossword puzzle, "You stole my bike and drove it off a cliff into a pond. The bike's destroyed."

"Oh," I said, humiliated and somewhat ashamed. The girl didn't look up, instead she scribbled onto the newspaper crossword. An awkward silence shrouded the next few moments, only the faint hissing and beeping of machines down the hallway occupied the air. I watched the Chancey waddle past the room, popping her head in to perform a brief check. She blinked her beady blue eyes at us, smiled slightly and left. Moments later, she returned with a pile of fabric – my clothes, washed and dried. She hobbled over to the end of the bed and left them there. I watched as she slowly left the room.

"Well," I said after what seemed to be an eternity, "I need to get to Viridian City, so, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm -."

"You are in Viridian City," the girl said loudly without raising her head.
I frowned, half sitting on the bed, half on the ground. I stared at her fiery red hair on the top of her head, "That's like a mile away from where I was. How did I get here?"

"I carried you."

I looked at her incredulously. Though she wasn't paying attention to my expression, she answered to it, "Well, you did steal my bike."

"So?" I asked.

"So!?" she exclaimed, suddenly standing up and staring me down, "You are so ungrateful! I just saved your life and here you are talking to me like it wasn't a big deal!? You stole my bike!"

"Well, thanks. Now, I have things to do," I said, standing up, trying to escape the confusing and uncomfortable situation. I snatched my clothes and darted towards the bathroom to change.

"Not so fast!" she shouted, seizing the collar of the provided hospital nightshirt. I whirled around, trying to pry her hands away from my neck.

"What do you want?" I demanded.

"Don't take that tone with me!" she cried, "I saved your skin! You owe me your life! You broke my bike! I want a new one!"

"I can get to that later!" I said exasperatedly, "I'm not going out looking like this!" I regarded the hospital clothing. The girl rolled her eyes and waved me away. I slowly turned around and marched off to the bathroom.

Inside, I slammed the door shut and yanked off the single oversized shirt and tossed it onto the floor. Hurriedly, I threw my clothes back on, jammed my hat onto my head and threw the door open.

The girl was waiting for me. I stepped out and clicked off the light switch. She folded her arms, frowning.

"Where's my Pikachu?" I asked.

"In the veterinary wing, being treated," she said simply. I heard the underlying disdain in her comment.

"Look," I said, stepping out into the hallway, "I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Ash, what's your name?"

The girl studied me for a second, then she sighed and stopped frowning. "Misty," she answered.

I nodded in acknowledgement. We proceeded down the hall past the closest desk. A nurse approached us, her hair tied up into looping rings on either side of her face. It looked somewhat distracting, but I immediately stopped paying attention once she started speaking.

"I was just coming to tell you that you're discharged," the nurse said.

"That's fine," I answered, "I'm just going to go check on my Pikachu."

"Right down that hall there and make a left turn," she said, pointing to the hallway past the reception desk.

"Thanks," I said, "Nurse…" I studied her shirt for a nametag, "Joy."

She smiled and walked on past, jotting notes on the clipboard she was carrying. The Chancey that had delivered my clothing plodded on behind her, dragging a laundry cart.

Misty and I trailed down the hall until we passed under the great red archway lining the walls reading "VETERINARY" and underneath some illegible Latin motto written in a calligraphic style of golden lettering. Immediately, my ears were filled with the hawking cries, moans and growling of whatever beasts were undergoing treatment at the moment. Owners carried in and out their ferrets, their rats and hounds, their cats and their lizards. Others were being pushed around on stretchers by various doctors and hospital staff.

"Can I help you?" a man in green scrubs asked me abruptly.

"Yeah, I have a Pikachu here. I wanted to check up on -." I began, but Misty elbowed me out of the way and my voice trailed off. She held out a small sheet of thermal paper to the man who nodded and led us off down the corridor.
Pikachu was awake. He sat upright on an examination table, scratching his ear with his hind foot. A nurse was attempting to finish drying him of the rain and pond water.

Misty reached forward and picked him up before I could. "Isn't he cute," she said staring into the eyes of the furry golden rodent. She turned to me, "Can I keep him?" she said jokingly.

"No," I said, taking Pikachu from her. He scrambled up onto my shoulder once more. "Are you paying the hospital bill, or shall I?" I asked her.

"It's already done," Misty said, waving the bit of curled thermal paper in my face, "We just have to check to make sure that you're both discharged."

We made our way back to the main lobby. I looked around the place. The entire front and most of the roof was constructed out of pure glass panes framed in a sturdy steel skeleton that merged into the actual building itself. Giant fans and heating vents encircled the upper rafters of the tall lobby. I could see the rain, now subsiding, pattering on the roof many feet above our heads.

Misty walked up to the reception desk, talking to the secretary, though I wasn't listening. Instead, my attention was caught by something outside. Beyond the towering office buildings outside, I saw shapes approaching on the horizon. They were black against the already gray sky, fluttering in the air like an armada of hawks. Helicopters. Seven of them spread equally and further separating as they made their approach. My eyes followed them. I spun around and watched them soar past the range of the great windows. Great noises, the power of the sonic booms generated and the rumbling beating of the propellers blasted through the air, muffled by the building. Tires screeched outside. Van doors slammed. Something wasn't right.

"Get down!" someone screamed. Instinctively, I dove towards the ground, dragging Misty with me.

"Ouch!" she screamed. She began another sentence to accuse me of whatever actions she had suspicions about, but I never heard it. There was a flare of light, a thunderous sound. Glass smashed, showering the room in tiny razor shards. I heard the beating of the air once more as more helicopters screeched overhead. Smoke curled into the room. I coughed, gasping for air.

My head, still with a splitting headache, was reactivated with pain once more. I found it hard to hear. The great crashing noises were ringing in my head. I heard alarms blaring, people screaming. It all faded back in for me to finally absorb.
I turned around, squinting to see in the foggy room. Shapes were flying about, human and animal. A weapon fired. I jumped. The room lit up for a brief second and I saw faces. Like a photograph taken at the wrong time, people were huddled on the floor, others cut by glass and bleeding. Some were unconscious, and others could have been worse. I shut my eyes. The smoke was painful, stinging and smarting.

"Everybody on the ground!" someone roared. I slipped from my position and fell on my rear. I stared into the barrel of a gun.

Two figures, tall lanky and skeletal stood at the front of the broken lobby, large semi-automatic guns raised at the hospital's occupants. The smoke began to clear, slipping back around the intruders' faces. One was male, the other female. Both had lengthy dark hair and thick eyeliner. If it wasn't for the shapes of their bodies, I could have hardly told the difference. Their jackets were jet black and with higher collars, the word ROCKET embroidered in red on the right hand side. ROCKET… it sounded familiar, almost hauntingly.

Both figures were still, then they both released capsules from their free hands. The Pokéballs thudded to the ground and clicked open, giving off a rush of displaced air once their contents were released. A formless black entity billowed forth from that of the male's, stitching itself together in mid-air as it drifted. Its wide, toothy mouth tore across its middle and its fins panned out from its sides, moaning like the lost souls beneath the reaper's coffin. The second beast darted out from its captivity core, clamping its rugged skin over its limbless skeleton. The immense serpent slithered into view, hissing and fanning out a thin hood on either side of its face.

In the presence of their two beast companions, the two figures stood. I estimated that they couldn't be any older than twenty five. The smog creature widened its infinitely stretched maw to hiss a puff of abominable smoke. The snake reared, staring down the lobby threateningly. Another shape caught my eye. From between both figures came a slinking form. As it came into the light, I saw it was a cat. I became reminded of textbook images of Egyptian cat idols, golden in color and adorned in jewels. It glided around the legs of both figures, coming to a stop to their left.

It took not a second before the closest being of authority found themselves staring down the barrel of the male's gun. Nurse Joy dropped to her knees, tears of horror spilling from her eyes, choking back screams.

"Agent Jessie here. Sector one secure," the female said, jamming an earpiece further into the side of her face with two fingers.

The male figure took a step towards the trembling nurse. "Make one move and your brains will be on this floor before you say a word," he growled. Screams came tearing through my eardrums from down the halls. Glass crashed, more Pokéballs hissed open and the floor shook with the weight of the unseen creatures.

"SHUT UP AND GET ON THE GODDAMN FLOOR!" a male's voice roared from somewhere in the hospital far behind me.

"Agent Cassidy here. Sector two secure," a slippery female voice rippled over the agents' earpieces. In the strained silence of the lobby, the words could be heard loud and clear.

"Copy," Agent Jessie said curtly to the voice elsewhere.

Nurse Joy let out a whimper. I whipped my head around to see. The muzzle of the submachine gun was being pressed into the Nurse's forehead so hard it was reddening. She didn't dare move, not even to sit down.

"Leave her alone!" I cried out instinctively. Immediately, I found myself confronted by the male, aiming his firearm at my face. Never before had I ever felt so close to death, but never before did I believe I wouldn't be scared. Maybe it was hardheadedness or idiocy, but I stared at them, blank faced.

"Who the hell do you think you are!?" Nurse Joy screamed from yards to my right. The male agent turned to her, waving the gun.

"You want to live to see tomorrow?"

"Shut up, James!" Agent Jessie commanded, pressing her hands to both her ears to hear the other agents over her radio. "Copy," she said after a few seconds, "Grunts proceed."

Footsteps thundered behind me. Following suit were foot soldiers of sorts, all bearing the Rocket insignia. They marched in through the destroyed entrance to the hospital, spreading out through the corridors like some type of plague. They trampled the ground and off they went through the halls. The lobby was quiet once more, disturbed only by the odd noise from the hospital surrounding. Suddenly, a woman in the far corner let a scream loose. Agent James's eyes widened and he bit his lip. He threw himself around, and marched up to the woman. Flipping his gun around, he raised it and clubbed the woman over her head. She slumped to the floor. We all held back gasps. He came stomping back, coming to a halt in front of Nurse Joy.

"Who the HELL do you think you are!?" Nurse Joy repeated more fiercely. When he didn't answer, she shoved him. "Who do you think you are!?" she repeated.

Agent James roared furiously. He raised the gun once more and brought it down on the nurse. He screamed and did it again. Agent Jessie watched, smirking horribly.

"To protect this world from devastation!" James howled at the top of his lungs, raising the gun again and slamming it into the nurse's face. "To unite all people within this nation!" Nurse Joy slipped. Feebly, she fell onto the tiled floor, her head drenched in her own blood.

James raised the gun once more, whipping it through the air into Nurse Joy's chest, hammering at every region he could and stressing each syllable of his speech. "To denounce the false truths you love! To extend our reach to the stars above!" He kicked the beaten nurse with his boot, turning her over in her own blood. She moaned, spluttering and coughing.

"We are Rocket!" James screamed, tossing his gun back into its proper position and wiping Nurse Joy's blood off the handle with his trouser leg.
Pikachu, still perched on my shoulder, hissed like a defensive cat. I couldn't control him. Pikachu leaped from my shoulder and bounded for Agent James with as good of intent to kill. Abruptly, the glossy cat tackled him.

"No!" I screamed. Pikachu and the cat were on the floor, clawing and biting at every inch of each other. The Rocket agents cackled wildly.

I knew it to be coming. There was a sudden flash and a blast that forced us all backwards. The cat stumbled, then became only a shadow as the entire lobby was engulfed in light. There was like a sonic boom, a thunder that rang through the room as the agents and their Pokémon were forced backwards, slamming into the walls and the ground, falling unconscious. The sudden shock of lightning from Pikachu took them all by surprise. Soon, everything was still.

I looked to Nurse Joy. "Someone get help!" I cried, hoping the other agents wouldn't hear me. I knew it was futile. There was nothing that could be done. I stumbled over to Nurse Joy's side. "Go!" I screamed to the others in the lobby, "Get the hell out of here! Get someone! Anyone! Police or something! Just hurry!"

I wrapped my arms around Nurse Joy's limp body and lifted her up. Misty came to my side to help me. Together, we raised her up and slowly staggered out the door with her in our arms. Behind us, I could hear the sounds of the Rocket grunts and agents, gradually coming to realize the chaos at the front of the hospital. For now, though, it was not my concern.

 

[mickmon95]

Its nice! Good job! Hope to keep reading the next chapters.

 

[TheReignOverhead]

III: Pewter City​

I saw Pikachu scurrying from the littered broken glass surrounding the destroyed entrance. I sighed. He climbed up my back and affixed himself to my shoulder. Still holding Nurse Joy's bloodied body in both hands while Misty carried her legs, I shuffled out at a stunted pace. Women and children were screaming. Men were panicking, hiding their fear behind their hands and cell phones. Dust clouded my vision, still billowing into the street crowded with the escaped patients, visitors and attendants of the hospital. Vehicles stopped, blaring their horns at the people staggering into the street. They were bleeding, sliced open with glass, metal and battered with stone from the pavement lifted by the initial detonation. I heard horrible screams and cries, some came out with their noses broken while others were dragged unconscious across the ground scattered with glass by confused loved ones. We were all dazed, confused and bewildered at our misfortune. Misty had a cut on her lower lip, blood was oozing down her chin and onto her yellow tank top. She looked white, sickened, pale and exhausted.

The same helicopters from before ominously roared past once more, making formation after rescuing the retreating Rocket deputies. Suddenly, a white and blue chopper rumbled through the sky on its massive blades, merging into the formation of Rocket helicopters. It read 'POLICE' on the side in some immense printing of a sans-serif font.

Sirens wailed. In came the fire trucks, the police vans and cruisers and the ambulances to deliver those victims to some other location out of harm's way. A police cruiser skidded to a stop before us and the door clicked open. A female officer stepped out, observing the damage.

"Please help!" Misty whimpered to the officer, fixing her grip on the injured nurse's legs. "Please, officer! Please!"

The officer turned to us, seeing Nurse Joy in our arms. She flipped around and threw the rear door to the cruiser open.

"Put her here for now. I'll get a stretcher."

The officer went off, jogging to the nearest parked ambulance. Special forces vans pulled in, unloading their men into the hospital. I saw them pulling out a few struggling figures in handcuffs, but none were the man and woman who had created such a disturbance in the lobby. I turned to Misty, ready to say something, but waited to see if she had anything to say first. No such thing happened. I opened my mouth, but a male voice spoke, taking me by surprise.

"Here."

I turned around to see a man pointing to the unconscious nurse. Behind him, another man – ambulance drivers. I blinked.

"Here," the ambulance driver repeated, "Move. We have to get her to another hospital."

"No, no," I said, pointing in the direction the officer went, "She's already gone to get help. The officer, anyway. She went to get help."

He just waved me away. "Just move, kid," he said. I moved. I watched them load Nurse Joy's unconscious body onto a stretcher and wheel her into the rear of the ambulance. They slammed the doors and hopped in front. The engine revved and they drove off down the street, curving through the mishmash of jammed traffic.
I turned to Misty. I tried smiling, but I couldn't bear it. She blinked, staring off past my face. Abruptly, someone tapped me on the shoulder.

"Where is she?" the officer asked. I turned around. She and two other men stood with a stretcher ready.

"Another ambulance took her already," Misty said, "They went that way." Misty feebly waved a fatigued arm in the direction that the ambulance had left.
The officer frowned, not coldly, but confused. She looked generally good-natured. Her identification was clipped onto her breast pocket. "Officer Jenny…" She moved, I couldn't catch the last name, and felt it rude to stare at her chest for my straining eyes to catch the single word that had escaped my sight. I blinked and looked elsewhere.

"Why don't you sit down inside?" she suggested, pointing to the cruiser. We had nothing else we could possibly think of to do. We were tired, bemused and revolted. Sliding inside, we sat next to each other on the beaten seats of the police cruiser.

Officer Jenny sat in the driver's seat and turned around to look at us both. We must have been a sight to see. I could barely imagine how shocked we must have looked.

"Did you kids see what happened?" she asked. I swallowed, but couldn't answer. My throat was dry and the saliva dripping down it was painful, like scraping fingernails against a blackboard. Pikachu slid down my arm to sit in my lap, huddled in my grasp.

"Two people came in," Misty said after a few seconds, "They… broke the windows and they came in. They had guns and Pokémon; a snake, a cat and a… a thing… something made of smoke. Oh, God… it smelled like burned, rotted meat. Like dead people. They beat up a woman, and more of them came. Not through the front, but in different doors. Some from the roof, some from other entrances and exits. They had helicopters; a lot of them. I don't know what they were after, but they beat up the nurse and…" Her voice died for a moment, tears of distress began welling up in her eyes. She swallowed and sniffled, "…and they knocked her out. She wasn't moving and she was bleeding really bad. Ash's Pikachu attacked the two people without him telling it to. Their cat jumped up and attacked it. They were fighting… then, Pikachu electrocuted the cat, or did something. The whole room exploded with lightning…"

"Their names…" I mumbled. I frowned, then I spoke up, "Their names were James and Jessie!"

Officer Jenny sighed, "Not their real names, no. Code names. Rocket agents."

"You know who they are?" I demanded.

"Unfortunately," Officer Jenny said, "Look, guys. There are some things in this world that are better kept secret. Rocket is one of those things…" she stopped, then put on a quizzical look, "Where are your parents?"

"We're fourteen," I explained, "Well, I am, I'm not sure about…"

"I'm fourteen," Misty said, pulling out her wallet to flash her identification cards. I did the same. Officer Jenny frowned.

"If it were up to me, things would have stayed the same," she said, "Kids deserve to be home, not out here like this, not seeing things like this."

"What was that thing?" Misty asked, "That thing made of smoke that was kept inside of a Pokéball. It couldn't be a real animal, could it?"

"No," Officer Jenny said, "It isn't. It's the creature known as Koffing, a prized possession of Agent James. It doesn't have a real name as far as I know, but it is most definitely a Pokémon, with its will being bent to that of its master. That thing's caused us a lot of trouble, believe me. Sometimes, I wonder what crazed individual or chance accident designed such a monster."

Misty looked out the window. Beyond, ambulances pulled through the traffic as other police men and women waved the cars backwards and directed the flow of oncoming vehicles. Others barricaded oncoming lanes, rerouting them down side streets. The special forces vans became loaded up with their men once more, slamming the doors and driving off with the suspects.

"Is there anything inside of it? Is it just smoke?" Misty asked.

"I wouldn't know," Officer Jenny replied, "Catching those agents is like catching the very smoke you speak of. They just rise up, extending their reach and hiding away above our heads, taunting us with each unknowing maneuver we make."

"You didn't catch them today, did you?" I asked.

"No," she said, "But you survived, I fear that they will never forget your faces, the ones that pulled their operation to a halt. I'd leave the city, if I were you. I could send another officer with you for protection…?"

"No thanks," I said, "We're fine."

"I insist."

"We're fine," I repeated, "Besides, we're kids. What would they want with us? What are the chances our paths will ever cross again?"

"Oh, kid," she said, "I wish you could understand that chance doesn't play any role in this. Still, I'll send word to Pewter City for them to keep an eye out for those creeps. Here, I'll give you a lift to the city limits. I can drop you off there, but after, I must return to the station."

I had no will to deny another one of her gracious offers. I simply nodded. Her partner knocked on the window. Officer Jenny unlocked the vehicle and the other officer slid in. They whispered to each other, I couldn't hear it. I turned to Misty, still with that burning urge to say something to her, but her face was pressed up against the window, staring out into the dusty street now flooding with the investigation crew.

"We found this," the second officer said, holding up a black rose in an evidence bag. The lining of the plastic bag was spattered with blood, the flower's petals dripping with it – Nurse Joy's blood. "Does this have any significance to you?" he asked us.

"No, sir," I said. He turned to Misty who just shook her head and rested it against the window once more.

The officer sighed, jogging back out to the investigative crew inspecting the crime scene and returning the rose to them. He came back and got into the vehicle. The car started. Pikachu, apparently sleeping, jerked awake and made a loud squeak that made Misty jump. We drove down the now empty lanes of the street to the northern end of town. Nobody spoke a word for the twenty minute drive. The lights of the electronic billboards, immense digital clocks and neon signs in the bleak afternoon streaked past the windows outside, burning lines into my slowly closing eyes. Somewhere out there, Gary was still around, and I could now understand the danger he had so blindly put himself in.

When we stopped, we were straddling the perimeter roads of the small city. Officer Jenny unlocked the car doors. She turned around to us.

"Be safe, guys," she said, then she looked to Misty, still blank-faced and pale. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Misty swayed back and forth for a second, before saying, "Mmm… I'm fine."
Officer Jenny nodded. I clicked open the door and Misty did the same. We got out and waved goodbye to the officers. They drove back through the city to the police station. Misty and I stood alone, other than Pikachu of course.

"You're not really okay, are you?" I asked her finally. She didn't reply. She just stood there, swaying back and forth, presumably still revolted from what she had seen. Immediately, she bolted for the brush at the side of the road, bent over and vomited. I raced to her side, concerned.

"It's just so horrible!" she moaned, spitting the remaining drops of puke onto the road. "How could they do that to that nurse? How!?"

"I don't know," I said to her. I looked left and right, hoping something could divert the situation, make her look up and steer away from the topic. Nothing happened. Awkwardly and unsure, I put my hand onto her shoulder. She didn't throw it off; a good sign. "Look," I said, "Let's just keep walking. How far is it to Pewter?"
She stood up, my hand slid away. "Not that far," she said, "Its through the forest on Route 2."

Misty pointed forward. A sign bearing the route's name stood not far from where we were standing and beyond that, the forest.

"Then come on," I said, proceeding forward, "We need to get to Pewter by nightfall."


---


Inside the forest, I was eerily reminded of Viridian's woods. This time, hopefully there wouldn't be any unfortunate incident involving rain or a bicycle… there was a twisting sensation of guilt in my stomach: Misty's bicycle.

"So why are you headed to Pewter?" Misty asked me, "What was your rush anyway with taking my bike?"

I sighed. Over the next few minutes, I explained to her the situation with Gary. She listened intently, nodding and replying. Even if she wasn't listening, it felt good to vent my frustrations to someone, regardless of if they understood it.

"…so really, I'm scared. I'm scared to know what might happen to him, and after today… Look, it doesn't matter to you anyways," I finished.

"Yes it does," Misty said.

"Why?"

"Because you better have had a good reason to steal my bike."

"Oh, will you give it up already?" I cried, "I'm so sorry about your bike, but there's not much I can do about it right now."

Misty smirked. I couldn't tell if bringing up the bike was a joke, or if she was legitimately upset with me. Either way, we didn't say another word until I heard her scream. I whipped around, trying to catch sight of whatever made her make such a noise.

"Get it off of me!" she screamed, flailing her arms around in the air, "Eww! Eww! Get it off! Yuck! Get rid of it!"

She leapt backwards. On her shoulder, an immense green caterpillar with yellow markings and a great pink crown upon its head. Its silky string was still wrapped firmly in the tree branch it dropped from.

"What?" I asked, "You don't like bugs?"

"What does it look like, Ash!?" She whipped her arms around and flung the caterpillar from her arm. It cart-wheeled in the air, spinning like a baton, then tumbling into a bush on the side of the path.

"Hrmmm…" I mumbled, frowning at the spot where the caterpillar had disappeared.

We proceeded down the beaten path. It wasn't long before we saw it. Something caught my eye; shrouded, out of sight, but too ominous to be kept from attention. To the left of our position, a clearing came into view. Something lay there, something unmoving – dead. It was pale, cold and shredded with wounds that would never heal. The paw of the front leg facing upward was missing. As we passed around it, I caught sight of its stomach; torn open and buzzing with flies. Scavenger animals tugged at its rotting innards. The smell, the same ugly odor that the beast Koffing produced filled my lungs. Decaying, wet and grimy rubbery flesh slowly breaking down in the mud. It was charred, burned by something immense and scorching that caused its death. Perhaps flames from the mouth of a dragon or the flammable secretions of a hunting bird creature. For whatever reason this thing was dead, it wasn't by nature – a Pokéball lay nearby, blackened and half-shimmering in the gravel.

Misty gagged, plugged her nose and ran off down the path. I held onto Pikachu tightly as I chased after her. She had already reached the end of the brief, mausoleum of a forest. Before us both, the sprawling city of Pewter. It was nearly the same size as Viridian, possibly populated by slightly more from the appearance of more residential areas than the businesses. I couldn't place my finger on it, but something looked dry about the entire place. It looked almost like a crypt, an ancient burial ground of some lost civilization in the form of a modern city. I didn't know if it was the architecture or the vegetation. Misty dropped rather clumsily down the steep hill leading into the first roads of the city.

"Come on!" she said, "I have an idea!"

I tumbled down the hill, doing my best to keep myself from toppling over and heading face-first into the rocky roadside. Pikachu's head bobbed up and down with each jerky step I took. Finally, my feet were planted onto level ground once more.

"Look," she said, pointing forward to the street funneling into the city, "If you ever plan on finding Gary, I know just the person you want to talk to. If anyone would have seen him, it would have been this guy."

"Who?" I asked.

"Brock," she said, "leader of all Pokémon brawling in Pewter City and for miles around. If Gary passed through here, Brock would have been the first person to talk to him."

"And if he hasn't?" I asked her.

"Then he's still here somewhere," Misty replied, "He wouldn't dare leave here without attempting to defeat Brock first."

"Where is this Brock?"

"At the gym, or what they would call a gym anyway. Usually, they're hidden from plain sight, inside old abandoned warehouses and such. They're like giant wrestling rings, but run in underground operations. They have to be real clean with what they do, sometimes people like to poke their heads around and do something violent like releasing their own Pokémon to terrorize the crowd or…"

She stopped when she saw my horrified expression. "Well," she said, "Gary's probably fine. You said he wasn't stupid or anything, right?"

I gave her a long, frustrated stare, then turned away and headed forward down the street. "Where is this gym anyway?" I asked.

"Twenty-second street. It's not that far from here, actually. By car or bus anyway," she said, "We could probably get him to talk before nightfall. What do you say we kill two birds with a single stone here?"

I didn't respond for a second. I began to wonder how exactly Misty knew all of this information, but I figured it could be heard on any street corner of any filthy city. I cleared my throat, then said, "Lead the way."

After a bit of walking, we got onto a bus. Due to Misty's odd generosity, I didn't have to shell out a single penny for the fare. We sat somewhere at the back of the transit vehicle and waited until whatever stop Misty planned to disembark at. The journey felt long and exhausting. I would compare it to one of those long summer days where one has nothing to do for an entire afternoon but sit by themselves. Those days that stretch on for eternity before the night comes, where one would lay awake in bed for hours on end due to discomfort of heat, pain or restless thoughts plaguing the mind. As I rested my head on the bus window, these thoughts tumbled through my mind like socks in an old stacked spin clothes dryer. Sometimes, one would disappear, only to pop back up again when least expected. I wondered if it was what dreaming would be like while your eyes were still peeled open by the sunset of the evening. I saw Gary's face, and I could almost hear his voice from the first times he ever made me watch those brutal Pokémon fights. It faded in and out, sometimes mingling with that ridiculous rhyme he would sing so off-tune as a child. It was hard to imagine how that innocent face became hardened and naïve; how those blue eyes of his had become so clouded and blind with his actions. If only one could turn back time.

"Ash!" Misty snapped her fingers in front of my face. My dozing eyes widened once more, being pierced with the interior lights of the bus. It was dark outside. "Come on!" she said to me, snatching my arm and dragging me upwards. Pikachu tightened his grip on my shoulder, claws digging in and shocking me to attentiveness.

Outside, we stood before an ancient building. Something told me it used to be a temple, but I could barely focus. I was far too tired by the day's events to concentrate on such minute details. Misty led me inside, past the great wooden doors at the entrance.

"Here," she said, "Inside!"

She shoved me forward, followed and then shut the door behind her. I turned around. The place was dark, extremely dark and heated by steam. The place was large, humid and with the odd breeze of cool air venting through it. Few candles lined the walkway, with a couple being blown out by the current of air. Definitely a derelict temple, I thought to myself. One could think it had a ceiling as high as a cathedral. My footsteps echoed on the stone tiled floor as I cautiously moved forward.

"Who is it that calls?" a voice rang out. It was deep and slightly hoarse with an accent I couldn't really identify.

"Brock, it's me, Misty," was the reply that Misty gave. I turned around and saw her candle-illuminated face approaching me. She nodded forward and pointed. I turned.

A figure was lighting the candles that the breeze had extinguished. His back was turned and I could just barely make out the form of his body. He shook a match, turned around and drew closer to us. As his face came into the light, I saw Brock for the first time. His face reminded me of a powerful statue, young but built to stand the test of time and the forces passing with it. His tanned skin, high cheekbones, a sharp flat nose and his razor eyebrows pointed to a Native-American heritage. Truly, he would have been an soon to be chief. He wore a bandanna on his head, dark greenish gray in color that covered most of his spiky black hair.

"Misty," he said, extending his hand to her. She shook it. He turned to me. "And who is this?" he asked, "A friend of yours? Or perhaps a boyfriend?"

"Not my boyfriend," Misty said through gritted teeth.
Brock smiled. "To what do I owe the occasion?" he inquired. Misty motioned for me to go ahead and ask.

"Well," I said, "My friend's gone missing. He ran away from home to go do Pokémon battling… I've… well, we parted on a bad note and I wanted to make it up to him." I tried to stay as far enough away from the moral implications of the Pokémon battling issue, being sure not to offend the powerful-looking gym leader, "His grandfather is worried sick. We were… well, uh… I was wondering if you could tell me if you've seen him. Here," I fumbled in my pocket and pulled out my wallet. I showed Brock the tiny photograph of Gary I had within the plastic sleeve of the leather pouch.

"How old is he?" Brock asked.

"In this picture? Twelve, but he's fourteen now," I answered.

Brock grimaced slightly, "I apologize, but I couldn't tell you where he is if I knew. There are certain confidentiality issues. If he's over fourteen, then he's legally responsible for his own doings. Though, if you would face me," he pulled a Pokéball from his shorts pocket and held it up to the candle light, "You might find that it's a bit… uh, persuasive."

"Oh knock it off, Brock," Misty snapped, grabbing Brock's sturdy hand grasping the Pokéball and pushing it down, "The kid doesn't do battles."

"So you do know where he is?" I asked him, pointing a finger at his chest.

"As I said, kid, I can't tell you," he said, "Tell you what, go sleep on it and come back tomorrow. I'll go easy, honest."

I frowned. Misty grabbed my arm, turned me around and marched me to the front door. "Come on, Ash," she said, "Let's go."

Brock took a few steps towards the door. "Come back tomorrow, you hear me? I'll still be waiting. I always am for a challenge."

"Did you not hear me, Brock? He doesn't do battles!" Misty cried as she ushered me out the door. She exited and slammed it shut. It obviously wasn't that productive of a day. We shuffled down the walkway to the sidewalk where we waited for another bus to take us downtown, maybe to find a hotel and hopefully find some solution to this dead-end.

 

[TheReignOverhead]

IV: Play This Game

We came to some old inn a few blocks down from Brock's so-called gym. It was small, built out of red bricks and badly insulated. When their sign flashed "VACANCY", I expected it to be every room empty – I was right. Luckily, our first pick gained us probably the best room in the entire place. The owner was a scruffy old man in sunglasses and a red toque. He looked like some biker thug, so I tried my best not to talk to him. Misty was rapidly running out of cash, so I had to fork over the majority of the bills still sitting at the bottom of my backpack.

The room itself was miniscule with two twin-sized beds squeezed in side by side with very little room between them, divided by a small shelf. I threw my backpack onto one of the beds and began to examine the room that our lesser fortune had placed before us. I opened the bathroom door, somewhat surprised that there was one at all. It didn't look too bad. There was grime, some mould, but nothing awful. I shut the door and went back to the bedroom area. I threw the sheets back from my bed and checked under the covers. No dirt, no sand, no bugs. Everything was good there.

"I'm taking a shower," Misty announced as she pulled some clothes out of a red backpack I had barely noticed she was wearing. She turned the corner, went into the bathroom and locked the door. After a few seconds, I heard a scream. Something told me that looking behind the shower curtain would have been a good idea.

"Eww! Gross!" Misty shrieked. The door was locked, so I couldn't do anything. I simply sat there and smiled. Probably some bug. My gosh, that girl freaked out over the smallest of things. Suddenly, I heard the water shut off and the curtain being drawn back. Before I could even distinguish what was going on, Misty stepped out of the bathroom, her hair dripping wet and with her dusty clothes thrown back on.

"There's something… ughh… something really gross in there!" she screamed.

I rolled my eyes and walked into the bathroom, my socks getting soaked in the large puddles of water. I looked into the bathtub and saw one of the weirdest sights I had ever seen. It was a nest in the far left corner, comprised of these yellowish cocoons the color of earwax. They hissed slightly as they inhaled and exhaled through undulating flaps on their sides. They were slimy, wet and spattered with the water from the shower. On their heads were small black eyes that almost looked like they were squinting, scowling at me. I knew what they were; Weedle Kakunae, the cocoons of the greater eastern killer bees.

"Kill them!" Misty cried from outside the room, but I ignored her. Carefully, I pried the cocoons from the shower wall and held them in my hands as I walked out of the bathroom. Misty yelped as I moved past her with them. I opened up the window and dropped them into the bed of sparse flowers underneath.

I shut the window, my hands now coated with the slimy secretions of the pupae. I washed my hands in the sink, somewhat pleased with myself for ridding this miserable hotel of a potential killer bee infestation, albeit quite easily.

"What were those things?" Misty asked.

"Just some dumb bugs," I replied, sitting back on my bed again. Misty rolled her eyes.

"Is it safe now?" she asked.

"It was always safe. Those things are harmless. Go take your shower," I answered, rifling through my backpack for something to eat. I found a chocolate bar and I unwrapped it, refusing to look at the expiry date. Ignorance is bliss. Misty went back into the bathroom, locked the door and I began to eat the chocolate bar.

In the corner of the room was a small television and on the shelf separating the beds was a remote. I turned on the television and watched the old tube's picture gradually fade in while the sound came faster accompanied by that annoying whine those old TVs usually have.

"…as you see here from one of handheld cameras of a bystander, the men and women entering the building and ordering the patients and visitors around. Here we have the man who shot this video. Sir, what was it like being inside this hospital…?"

I flipped the channel. The day's events wasn't something I wanted to witness again. It felt like forever before Misty finally got out of the shower so I could take one. I checked the time on the analog clock nailed to the wall and found it was eight thirty at night. Unbelievably slow had the hours of today dragged by. Exhausted, I lifted myself from the bed and went to shower.

As I felt the water pour onto the top of my head and my wet hair falling into my eyes, I stared into the spot where the cocoons had been. It seemed that neglect on the hotel management's part had given a home to more life. My weariness began to scramble connections in my brain, leading me to think of Gary. Maybe neglect on my part led him to finding a home within violence. Was that a better home than before? The cocoons had been growing, metamorphosing in the cold, dark corners of this uncommonly used hotel room. Was Gary growing too? Was he learning life lessons that neither his grandfather nor I could have ever taught him? What was it that made him choose the fighting? The water washed over the short, fine hairs on my arms. I shivered.

When I finished my shower, I stepped out into the main room. My hair was still wet and delicately I pulled a clean shirt on. I still retained the same jeans from that day. I looked to the TV, Misty had turned it back to the news broadcast on the hospital attack.

"Look at this, Ash," Misty said without taking her eyes off of the screen, "That cat thing can talk!"

I focused on the screen, trying as hard as I could to strain my tired mind to pay attention. There was that shimmering golden cat that Jessie and James had brought with them. It was some footage with a fuzzy digital timestamp in the corner; police interrogation footage. That cat was sitting cuffed to a chair. Only now did I really realize how huge it was: three and a half feet in length was my estimate, totaling to about five with its limbs outstretched. Its mouth was moving and astonishingly English was coming out.

"…it's hard to tell you people anything when all you want is answers rather than the questions themselves," the cat was saying, baring its teeth with every syllable, "See, its wiser to start making your own investigation on your own asses before you start examining mine."

"And what does that mean?" the interrogator leaned forward in his chair, scratching the beard on his broad chin.

"Whatever yeh want it to mean," the cat sneered, "That's the beauty of fig'rative speech, isn't it?"

"What of the whereabouts of agents codenamed Jessie and James?" the interrogator asked.

"I couldn't tell yeh even if I knew," the cat said, taking a break to twist its head around and crack its neck, speaking hauntingly calmly "Speaking of which, I hope you find 'em. Find 'em, then let them tear your fat throats out," it paused to lick its lips and grin unpleasantly like some decorated Cheshire cat, "It'll be over by then. I'll be over and done. You're screwed. All of you fat bastards are screwed." The newscast made its own little beeps within the profanities.

It flipped back to the news anchor, "Viridian Police later issued a statement about the cat in question 'Meowth', regarding the condition of his mental health. It was confirmed that Meowth is severely deluded and considered criminally insane. Its owners are yet to be located…"

The TV switched to images, perhaps old mugshots of Jessie and James. Underneath it gave a hotline to call and extra descriptions on them. Nothing mentioned their other Pokémon, that snake and the smoke creature Koffing.

"Sounds like they've got something planned," Misty said, "Whatever they were after at the hospital must've been really valuable to them."

"Sounds like a load of garbage," I said, flinging myself onto my bed, "Didn't you hear them? 'Deluded'? 'Criminally insane'? The cat's full of crap."

We sat in silence for a while as Misty changed channels. I didn't really see much of a point in doing so. All that was on were the badly-produced repeats of crime dramas, the news and paid programming.

"I've been thinking," Misty said after a few minutes, "about going back to Brock tomorrow."

"And what? Battle him? Are you insane?" I exclaimed.

"If you haven't noticed, we're out of cash unless you've got some hidden away. Pokémon battles are a cheap, easy way of earning money! Plus, it'll get him to talk."

"Cheap and easy? What about the price paid by the Pokémon involved? What's going to repair that? Where's the compensation? It's disgusting. I won't do it." Pikachu looked up from the end of my bed, surprised at the raised level of my voice.

"Look, do you want to find Gary or not?" Misty insisted, "Brock never said that you had to win! You don't even have to fight, really. All Brock needs is a bit of target practice for a while. Make him miss, then forfeit."

I considered this. I never thought through this loophole before. The more I mulled over it, the more sense it made. A moving target without any harm done. A good defense, and thus a good offense? Brock would get what he wanted, I got what I wanted, nobody gets hurt. Everyone wins.

"It might just work," I mumbled.

"What's that?" Misty asked.

"I said it might just work."

Misty gave me a satisfied smile, "Then it's settled then, tomorrow morning we go back to the gym and give Brock that challenge of his."

I nodded. Moments later I found my head on my pillow, my eyes shutting and Pikachu curled up next to me. At some point, Misty shut off the light and somehow the covers were pulled over me. I drifted off to sleep with a good outlook for tomorrow.


---


We awoke shockingly early the next day. Misty complained that she barely got any sleep, plagued by images of the violence we had witnessed. I thought it was best not to talk about it. We packed up our stuff and left the hotel somewhere around nine in the morning.

In the front lobby of the hotel, Misty checked out at the counter. The scruffy old man kept his mouth shut through the transaction. Afterwards, Misty came towards me, standing at the door to leave. We had the door pushed open, but then the old man spoke.

"You know," he said in a growly tone, "I can't help but to overhear conversations sometimes. I hear you plan to challenge Brock, is this true?"

"Yeah," I said, backing away from the door slightly, "I have to. He won't tell me where my friend's gone unless I battle him."

"Thought I heard something about that," the man said.

"Why?" I asked, "What do you know about him? Brock, that is."

The old man chuckled, "Heh, I know enough. He's smart, determined and with a good head on his shoulders. The talents he's got could carry him further than Pokémon brawls. Still, he's got other things to do, other things on his plate."

The man's voice trailed off. He stared on past the glass of the front doors of his hotel. He cleared his throat and continued.

"He's got children to care for. Nine of them. Not his own children, but his brothers and his sisters. His reckless father left with high hopes and dreams. They shattered in his face. He can't even stand the idea of talking to his son face to face ever again. Brock's not stupid and he ain't a monster. He's just a man with some animals fighting to keep his life and the lives of others under control."

"Will his dad ever come back?" I asked him, "What about his mother? Where'd she go?"

"His dad coming back? Maybe," the old man said, "As for his mother, she disappeared years ago. For all anyone knows, she's dead."

I was silent for a few seconds. Then I spoke, "I'd stick around for more story-time, but I have a load of things to do today."

"Hrmph..." the old man grunted, then turned away from us. I frowned. Opening the door, Misty and I stepped out into the morning air. Today, the sun was shining, or at least shining more than it had in the past month. It tore a hole open in the grey clouds, casting heavenly beams down onto Pewter City. Moments later, we got back onto a bus with the small change we still had to head out towards Brock's gym.

In the daylight, the gym was much more distinguishable as the deserted temple I had thought it to be. Its stone walls drove upwards and closed in around in a rectangular frame, wrapped with crumbing archways. The path was lined with boulders, one after another like a fence leading up to the clearing before the steps to the front doors.

Inside, the place was much better lit than before. Now, the partially hidden sun vented through the openings about the high ceiling. The candle holsters stood on either side of me as I walked through the door. Beyond, a stone pedestal and Brock sitting upon it, waiting.

He stood. He had let the bandanna down from his head and left it hanging around his neck. He was wearing a pair of khaki shorts, a brown shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black sandals and a black wristband.

"So, you've returned," he said to us, hopping off of his pedestal onto the dusty gravel ground.

"I agree to your terms," I said, "That is, if you agree to mine."

"Oh?" he said, drawing nearer to us.

"If I call a forfeit, then you've still won the match," I said, "And still, you'll give me what information you have."

"Kid," he said, "I'm not evil. Don't take me as a villain, just a guy wanting to play this game."

I didn't smile. I didn't know if that was supposed to be a joke or if it was supposed to alleviate my stress. It did neither.

"Still," Brock continued, "I can't make any promises."

"Then we'll just have to see, won't we?" I asked.

"Yes we will," Brock said, stepping back to stand on his pedestal once more. "Hey kid, I didn't catch your name," he mentioned.

"Ash," I said.

"Well, Ash," he said, "Welcome to the world of Pokémon."

I said nothing. I turned to Misty who still stood at the front door. She smiled meekly at me. I turned back. Brock nodded to me. "And what is your Pokémon of choice?" he requested.

"Pikachu," I said. I held out my arm and the lightning mouse bounded from it. Pikachu dropped to the dusty ground and stood at the ready, his tail whipping around like a playful puppy. "Yours?" I asked the gym leader.

Brock smiled. "Onix!" he roared.

Suddenly, I felt the ground shaking. The earth beneath me was rumbling, tearing and breaking. Dust and sand was coughed up before us and I heard a deafening howl. The ground stretched, broke and flew upwards. I felt chills shooting up and down my spine and my stomach turned inside out. I looked up beyond the clouds of dust to where the ceiling was. There, I saw its face; the glossy yellow eyes of a snake and the skin as brutal as sandpaper. It extended through the clouds which began to fall away like a curtain being dropped from an unveiled invention. The rocky scales of Onix, the serpent of stone shredded aloft and curled backward as the snake reared. It opened its mouth and let another bone-chilling cry loose, nasally and brass sounding. The giant fangs jutted out from its absent gums, twisting from the snake's very face. It bore down upon Pikachu, glaring at the rodent with its piercing eyes.

The serpent struck, launching its immense coiled body down upon the mouse. Pikachu rolled out of the way, snarling at Onix. Lightning blossomed from his cheeks. It arced across the battlefield, leaping and bouncing over the displaced stone and looping around the snake's body. The beast groaned, the attack ineffective. Onix lunged forth. It came crashing to the ground, tossing dust up into the air, clouding Pikachu's view. His head darted around, trying to find Onix's head. The snake was surrounding him, curling around like a giant moving stone wall. The tail flung out, slamming Pikachu in the chest. He went hurtling backwards into the rest of Onix's body. The head raised. The great snake flicked its tongue and struck. Rocky fangs unfolded from its upper jaw, curling backwards like reversed elephant tusks. It missed. Onix's face hit the ground. Pikachu rolled away from it.

The serpent rose once more. I saw it tower up to the ceiling, and that's when I saw it: the sprinkler system. It'd distract and disable the great snake. Pikachu looked at me and saw where I was staring. Instinctively, the sparks began to bubble from his scorched red cheeks. The bolts unfolded and struck upwards at the little flower-shaped spout. The decorative rafters around it caught fire. They erupted into flame, billowing smoke through the upper area of the chamber. The sprinklers went off, water thundered down from them, drenching Onix in a treacherous rainfall. The snake shrieked and fell to the ground.

"Pikachu, return!" I cried, snapping my finger and pointing to the ground beside me. He backed away from the fallen serpent, bouncing along the ground hurriedly until he came to my side. From behind me, I could hear Misty clapping loudly, almost giddily. She stopped when I gave her a long, cold stare.

Slowly, the downpour faded. The fire was out. I saw Brock in the far corner at what I could only assume to be the sprinkler shut-off valve. He came back with a look on his face I couldn't quite recognize. Could it have been confusion, or worse, anger?

"I give up," I said to him, "We agreed to that, right?"

"No, Ash," Brock said, looking down at his fallen Onix, "You won."

Brock drew a Pokéball from the left pocket of his shorts and dropped it to the ground. It clicked open and I watched Onix seem to disintegrate. Passing into fine particles of sand, the fallen beast slowly was consumed by the tiny capsule.

"What?" I exclaimed, "How? That was cheap! I cheated, that wasn't right at all!"

Brock picked up the Pokéball and put it back into his pocket. He answered, "Ah, that's one thing you'll learn here; we praise original thinking. Rules are loose and meant to be bent to their extremes. Just don't break them."
I was aghast. I didn't know what to think. Willingly, I had actually participated in a Pokémon battle, and worse yet – I actually fought and won. What was I to think of myself?

"My mother would often advise me and my siblings to always test the limits to know the boundaries," Brock said, "You tested those limits. You won fair and square. Listen, kid… Ash, you've got this determination. I've never seen anything like it before. Maybe it's stubbornness, maybe its perseverance. You and your Pikachu haven't ever trained for this, yet look at this… you won!" He paused for a second, then drew something from his other pocket, "See, this won't do you much use, but in the League, we're supposed to give out these badges, see…"

Brock handed me a small pin no larger than a quarter. It was silver, reflective and eight-sided with decorative lines drawn upon the middle leading to a smaller eight-sided outline.

"I call it the Boulder Badge, real original, huh?" he continued, "I heard… that they're more creative in Cerulean City." His eyes darted upward, past my head, but I couldn't tell what he was looking at. I turned the Boulder Badge over in my hands, unsure whether to feel accomplished or mortified.

"Congrats, kid," a familiar, gruff voice said. I turned to see the hotel owner standing on the opposite end of the entrance doors from Misty. He approached me. I looked to Brock. He was frowning, eyeing the man with contempt.

"He kind of just walked in," Misty said, noticing Brock's expression.

"Dad!?" Brock growled, marching up to the hotel owner, "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"Coming to see my son do what he does for a living," Brock's father said, "Do I not have a right to do that?"

"After these years…" Brock said, "After all these years, you decide to come back now! You pathetic man! What made you think I'd ever want to see you again!?"

"Nothing did," Brock's father said, dropping his head in shame, "Maybe I just wanted to come back now. Maybe I got enough strength to see your face again."

"Then look at me!" Brock roared, "Look at me, Flint Harrison and tell me that everything's going to be fine! What about the others? Did you forget about them!? Did you forget about Forrest, Sal, Yolanda, Tom, Suzie, Cindy and the twins?"

"No," Brock's father, Flint replied. He then looked up to face his son, "But everything will be better. I promise."

"And I'm supposed to believe you?" Brock asked.

"No, Brock," Flint said, "You just have to trust me. Look, this kid's friend is missing." He tossed an arm towards me, continuing to talk, "You're their only hope at finding him before something bad happens."

"Have you seen Gary?" I asked Brock. Both he and his father turned around.

"Yes," Brock replied, "He got here early yesterday. He won and he moved on to Cerulean City."

"Then will you come with us, Brock?" I asked, "Will you join our search?"

"Please, Brock," Misty said, "You've known me for years. This is as real as anything's going to get. Your dad said you're built for more than just these… Pokémon scraps. This is your chance!"

Brock was silent for a few minutes. He looked to Flint who said, "It'll be alright. Things are fine here. The kids might have a hard time adjusting, but... I'm still their guardian after all. "

"I'll do it," Brock said suddenly, "I see, some things are meant to happen. Something tells me that this is one of those things…"

"Then it's settled, then?" I asked.

"Almost," Brock said. He looked to his father, "I have some instructions to give."

With that, the two of them left to their house. Quite a dysfunctional family, I thought. Brock told us that he'd be back later that evening. He told us to meet him back at the gym at five in the evening. For the remainder of time, I couldn't tell what we were to do. It was then that I began to realize that I was being stubborn; I had no plan of action. Everything was impromptu, unscripted and more real than anything I've ever known. From here on, our futures were unclear.