Ash
Somewhere in the middle of the end near the beginnings of a long drawn out story that no one cares to hear from start to finish, was Ash. But then again there always is Ash so I don't know why I even bothered to tell you that much. Maybe it's so we can get this story down right the first time. But then again Ash wasn't always like this. He was once a normal kid living with normal parents, and wouldn't you know it? With a normal name too! That's how it always starts. Some plain kid has something horrific happen to him which inspires him to do better right? That's where you would be wrong. Ash did something rather different, a little more unnatural and a tad bit inhuman. This story however doesn't begin with the first time Ash smoked a cigarette. Or how his love for a girl named Marry Jo gave him the nickname Ash, or even how his parents overdosed on drugs to gain euphoria. Not to say any of that wasn't important, it matters to someone somewhere but here… no it doesn't. His story starts somewhere much different. I'll put it this way to make it simpler, but yet all the more confusing. It all started with a couple drops of blood and an origami atom bomb.
Cigarettes and needles
My eyes flutter open as the cold sour air grips my burnt lungs and I start my usual hysterical coughing fit. I lay on the warm soft blankets of my rustic wood bed and I close my eyes tight to the blinding light of my boarding room window.
"I must have passed out before closing..." I mumble as my hands grip my pounding head. "I don't recall coming up here last night, I'm still in my jeans and t-shirt... must have been something in that last drink?" my mind echoes like the inside of a dark cave, empty as a crushed soda can and twice as fragile. Slowly I piece together where I am.
The room I'm staying in is small and very tidy with an almost sickening sweet tinge to it that I just can't put my finger on. Something in the rose splattered walls and the long swaying woven curtains scented heavily with lilac screams I am very out of place here. It's a stark contrast to the usual dank dingy hole-in-the-wall kinds of places that I usually stay in. It's cheaper that way too, and besides the people there are more my crowd, you know the kind. It's all in the ones with dark hoods, deep scars, or in my case simply to have pocket full of pokeballs and a freshly lit roll of Mary Jane between their teeth.
"Marry Jane..." My pounding mind turns to a warm purr at the word.
With my left hand rubbing my slowly adjusting eyes, my right hand on impulse quickly jolts to the side of me to scour the filthy Ash ridden desk beside my bed. It's a routine action to me, almost mechanical to do this. Finally after a minute of crumpled papers, pokeballs, and cigarette stubs being tossed around as well as me almost tipping the Ash tray on the filthy desk, my hand grasps a lighter. My left hand slips into my pocket to reveal a battered cigarette box. My eyes open in slits as I peer at the half open case.
Two cigarettes left...
I close my eyes and chuckle as I slip a thin roll through my chapped lips and between my yellowing teeth. My hands fumble with the lighter as sniveling sparks slowly brake flame. I quickly ignite the roll and take a long awaited deep breath. A sweet connection between my cold lungs with the powerful hot smoke, and I am amerced in the serenity of the moment. I hold it in trying not to waste a second of its saver. No longer able to keep it in, I half chuckle half cough as a sea of thick black smoke drips like cotton storm clouds from my lips. "A terrible habit for a 10 year old" I snicker inwardly, my smile crooked and wide as I replace the lighter and the box containing the remaining roll back into my pocket.
I'll save that last one for a rainy day I decide quickly, after all it's the last roll of green from my home town I'll be having for a long time. My smile falters a bit as I replace my burning Mary back in my mouth. The paper is hot and flaking between my boney sallow skinned fingers. I bring the freshly lit cigarette slowly away from my mouth again closing my eyes gently and with yet another slow exhaling breath the Smokey stream of cotton escapes me. Over the Ash tray, carefully, I tick burnt flakes off the red hot end of its burning paper and replace it back between my yellowing teeth.
Ash... Like my name, my drug... My life and dream.
My dream? What was it? My drug intoxicated mind fuddling around the thought.
I was the best... Or I want to be? No I want to be the best... of everyone. The best that ever was." My mind still fumbling with these small and simple concepts. "The best that ever was at doing drugs?" My mind echoes back jokingly. "No it was something else!" I say out loud my voice thick like chocolate pudding and filled with hard concentration, as I rake my hands through my black messy hair thick with a layer of grease and sweat. I grab the red and white hat that sits clumsily on the floor just in reach of my hand and tame back my ferocious hair as I put it on.
The benefits of my drugs are worth the little forgetting now and then, But that doesn't make repeating facts about myself every once in a while any less annoying then it is.
"Guess it's time for another memory check" I say mumbling to myself, smoke slipping out as my lips part during speech. I take the cigarette out taking all its rich fumes along with it. I sit up in bed and swing my legs over the edge. As my feet make contact with the soft plush carpet and I am yet again reminded just how much I don't belong here. "Let's make this a quick one, I hate to waste a good roll" I mumble into the air.
"OK!' I say loudly, trying to sound enthusiastic.' My name is Ash ketcham!' I say to the wall, the halfhearted enthusiasm still littering my voice. 'I am 10 years old! I can't help but let out a suppressed giggle at this. 'My current bio stats report shows...' I pause momentarily to pull out a small square device from my pocket, my pokedex. I then slit my finger open on its needle edge and hold the blood over the tiny screen. After a second my pokedex bursts into life.
"BLOOD ANALYZING- READING-NORMAL"
Normal? I whisper. I shrug it off "well nothing a blue pill can't fix" with that I casually set my pokedex to the side of me.
"My current bio-stats report reads normal! I spit. My enthusiasm now completely diminished replaced by thick annoyance.
"My mission is...' I pause to rub my head hoping to jog my brain in my momentary forgetfulness. After a second my thoughts knit back together. 'My mission... My mission is to save Misty!" My annoyance now replaced with a new conviction. "I am a Pokémon trainer! The best there is." I add with a smirk as I end my fact recital with a sniff followed by the replacement of my cigarette. This of course triggers another coughing fit and I snatch it back from my teeth and grip my throat as I almost hack up a lung.
My grip slips from my throat back into my pocket again as my coughing dies down and I grasp a small red and white ball. I proceed to slowly bring it out of my pocket and close to my face. My movements are slow and conserved, my muscles weak and my bones brittle from many long hours of intense drug use. I gaze at the curious object through tired eyes. I was so young when I started. I was only 10. 10 when my dream became a reality... destiny even. And for who knows how many years later here I am still 10 years old living my same intoxicated life of endless pills, powders and needles. I want it to stop. I want it all to stop so badly, but I know I can't, that would be selfish. I need to get her back first, and then I'll end this once and for all. Then I'll do it. Then I'll viral out.
I slip my cigarette back into my mouth and with all the will power I can muster (which isn't much) I slowly and carefully get off my bed and stand up.
I take the thin dying roll from my mouth again and breathe the thick fumes out in a small steady stream which soon turns to another round of hysterical coughs. I again tick the Ash from my cigarette into the tray and replace it back into my mouth one last time.
It's a nasty habit, but I've gone too far to give it up now. Not when so much is at stake, not when I have so much to lose. If I quit now I'm just a selfish. I'm just selfish.
Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. My mind stuck like a broken record. I rub my forehead again. I really need a blue pill.
. If it weren't for her, I would have stopped long ago..." I pause to puff one last cloud of smoke before I snuff the life out of the tiny used up cigarette in the Ash tray. "And if I want to stop now I got to go get her back. I have to get her back whatever it takes. She's the only one who can do it.
Whatever it takes. Whatever. Whatever. My mind starts to glitch again and I smack my head with my palm repeatedly. I drop back hard and fast to my bed. My body begins ceazing with shock from the lack of drugs in my system. The red and white ball quickly releases from my grip and rolls calmly away as my hands clutch my head and crinkled face full of pain. With both hands and arms cradling my head I slowly rock back and forth. Sweat beads form on my forehead as I begin to have a sharp shaking sensation.
"I just... need another... Blue pill." I repeat over and over as I try to lower my increasing heart beat with deep slow breaths.
When I feel my pounding heart start to slow a beat or two, I quickly release one of my clenched fists to a square locket around my neck. I then loosen my other fist as I try to open the locket with my hands both shaking hysterically.
When I'm finally able to pop it open several different colored pills spill out. I snatch a blue one and without hesitation shove it hard down my dry throat.
As soon as I gag it down the effect is instantaneous. A gigantic wave of cool, still, relief wAshes over me. My breathing regular, my sweaty palms no longer shaking. In fact I feel spectacular, no, unbeatable and unstoppable! Even the color intensity in the room has increased. "I love the blue ones they are always exactly what I need." I say smiling as I pick up my scattered multi-colored pills from my lap and replace them back into my square locket. My mood change was so drastic it would be almost impossible to tell what had just happened actually happened. If it weren't for the red blotches on my face where my fists were clenching my head tight enough to leave bruise marks, you could have thought nothing happened at all. This happens so often now that it's become pretty much second nature, almost like a really bad sneeze, and then... Nothing.
I retrieve my pokedex from my bedside where I left it and slit another of my fingers open which I again hold up the blood to.
"BLOOD ANALYZING - READING- 50% CONTAMINATION' Good, that should last me a while. I think inwardly with a smirk on my face. '2% UNRESPONSIVE" my pokedex spits. My mind snaps to attention. "What did you say to me?" My vision glued to the small device as the screen flAshes back my results. "...2%... unresponsive..." I read out loud in a small whisper. "Oh no no no no no no no, this is bad. this is really really bad. I'm running out of time... and options"
the bright atmosphere brought on by the blue pill starts to dim. I toss away my pokedex carelessly onto my bed as I slowly stand up again and stretch my weak muscles. I then proceed to bend down to search for the red and white ball I had dropped during my one, of many drug deprivation episodes. I find the spot it rolled to by my bed post, where I pick it up once more and examine it's familiar edges for what is probably the millionth time. I gaze intently at the red and white ball I'm fumbling with in my fingertips. I roll it in my palms a second more and chuck it across the room. A blinding light splits the air as the ball opens to reveal a small yellow creature, Pikachu, My Pokémon.
Pika Pea! It squeaks as it sits smiling on the plush carpet of my lilac room. Its voice full of joy but its smile falters and its lost composure gives away his concern for me.
"It's time" I whisper. Somehow saying it like this gives it an eerie tone and my lighthearted mood falters along with Pikachu's. It's a phrase I've always wanted to use for something serious but somehow in the circumstances it's just down right depressing.
"We always knew I couldn't do this forever Pikachu.' The tone of the room gets more and more unnervingly sad by the second. 'I'm getting unresponsive from my pokedex again." I say carefully. "I can't make the pills myself... "I pause momentarily remembering what happened with Brock. "We've gone over this before, I know, but I just want to say..." My voice trails off and my throat tightens a bit. I take a deep breath. (A big mistake because I start another long round of coughs) when I've regained my composure again I start. "If I can't get Misty back, if my plan fails, or I there isn't enough time to... you know..." My voice again trails off again. This time however I take a slow thought-out breath of air. "I just want... I just want to..." My eyes welling with tears. "I just need to tell you..." I stop short. No I will not do this. I am better than this. I am the best, I keep forgetting. I can always tell him later, after we rescue Misty. Because we are going to rescue her. My plan is fool proof. I run these thoughts over and over in my head.
"Never mind Pikachu, I'll tell you on our way back here after we go get Misty." I try to say this with a confident tone, but Pikachu looks unconvinced. "Come on Pikachu! We can do this! What are a few origami atom bombs against the world's best Pokémon trainer and also world's best Pokémon...? You know... charmander!" Pikachu clearly did not find my joke as funny as I did because I needed 3 red injections just to recover.
"Hey Pikachu...Before we leave, let's clean up all these used needles. We don't want another innkeeper incident. It was just too messy for my taste."
"Pika-pea!"
"good I'll start packing and restocking supplies, we are going to need a lot of green powder where we are going.
"Pika?"
No not the yellow stuff, remember what happened last time? It just doesn't give the same effect, and it just got everywhere. And worst of all when we checked in with nurse joy she didn't seem all too convinced we had bought those legally. Or, well, as legally as they come anyway. Oh and one more thing can you run downstairs and swipe me a new pack of cigarettes from the man downstairs? It's going to be a very VERY long trip.
interruption
Pause right now! Now I know what you are thinking. #1,That had practically nothing to do with an origami atom bomb. #2 … ok there is no number two, I just had to put it because there is always a #2. Seeing as how you have read this far I should probably clarify a few things for you. For starters this is a story about not just Ash but about Misty.
Ahhh Misty, my favorite little scientist, drug lord, and skilled origami master. Now one thing was never certain about her. We could never tell if she was actually real. You see, Ash is just a little bit of a drug addict, And Misty his supposed supplier. But since this story was originally told by Ash who is to say Misty was ever real or just a fictitious character Ash's first dose of LSD created. I mean she's named Misty, that could be code for mists of darkness, or mirage? After all who could trust a guy nicknamed after cigarette Ash. All of that of course is beside the point.
The point is Misty has knowledge and skills Ash clearly doesn't have. And as you can probably see he is in desperate need of them at the moment. Unlike Ash, Misty isn't sitting in a plush carpeted room encased in the scent of lilacs. Actually Misty is in a very very different situation. If I'm timing this story correctly in about 20 seconds she is about to experience for the 4th time today the meaning of pain.
Origami bombs
Wait…. no! No! Stop! PLEASE! PLEASE! STOP!… *bleck* *caugh* *caugh* Ok, ok, ok, ok, give me the square again. I can do it, just please, stop. Please… just… stop. Tears glide across her face and puddle at her knees. Blood dribbles from her lips like syrup, hot and thick. Her once short beautiful orange hair now in long tangles drenched with water, blood, and sweat.
How do we know you aren't lying to us again? Says a looming voice from some corner of the dark room.
"I… promise…" she gasps weakly between sobs and big gulps of air.
"ha- ha. You hear that Jessy she says she promises!" sneers another voice from the opposite end of the dark room.
"Last time you we trusted someone on the words 'I promise' it didn't end well for them." The more feminine voice hisses again. Casually the voice trails off while it slithers into the small stream of light in which Misty kneels blindfolded in a pool of her own blood.
The tall women with hair like red hot fire stares down at her through snake like slits for eyes. You get one more chance to make it work. " she snaps as she rips off the blind fold." Then the pain will come back. It's horrible you know, but the puddled mess of you staining our floor will be far more agony for us to clean up if you just happen to die during a session... it's been known to happen often. I'm surprised you've endured as long as you have, Misty. Not very many people can survive blood draining as many times as you have. You have 1 week to show us something worth our time and then we aren't wasting our time with you anymore." With that she receeded back into the shadows
"Should we take her back to her cell or the lab and get her back to work on the bomb?" One voice hisses from somewhere in the dark
"She looks like she's about to pass out! Back to the cell we can't have her dying now. we need her! We shouldn't have drained her that last time!" The second voice whispers.
"Both of you, SHUT UP! She's right there!" the third bellows "and both of you get this mess cleaned up!"
"Why can't u do it?" the first mutters.
"I've got more important things to do rather than mop her off the floor. Now get going before I use it on you to!" the third hisses back.
With the last ounce of energy she contained, Misty sat kneeling listening to the voices bickering in the back ground as white noise filled her empty mind. She couldn't even feel her hands on the cold bloodstained floor. All she could do was stare down at the cement floor eyes wide and face dripping with sweat as she watched as her swirling pools of thick blood soak back into her skin like a sponge.
Her mind begins to swim with one thought as she collapses and the floor swallows up her remaining consciousness. "Ash… Ash where are you?"