A cool wind rustled the leaves in the bushes and trees, creating a sound like a wave washing to shore. A creek gurgled along, the water swirling and breaking around stones jutting from the bed to the surface. In the distance, a waterfall rumbled as the creek grew larger and wider until it eventually reached the precipice and crashed down upon itself, creating a fine mist.
Amid nature's symphony, Yellow's pencil made a scratching noise as she drew it across the paper of her sketchbook, trying to capture the image before her. When she shifted her grip on the pencil and used its smoother sides to shade in a tree, it made a swooshing sound similar to the leaves. Then it returned to scratching as she readjusted her grip on it and began to trace outlines again.
This was one of Yellow's favorite hobbies: wandering the Viridian Forest until she found some angle she'd never seen before, then capturing it to the best of her ability in her art. Without much else to do, she found herself in this position more days than not. At this point she probably had enough sketches to make an art book. She wondered whether anyone would look at it, or if she'd ever have the courage to publish it in the first place. Probably not, she decided.
As she finished another tree and moved on to a rock cluster she'd drawn many times before, but never from this angle, she let her thoughts wander and her hand go on autopilot.
First her mind drifted to the subject of her uncle. He'd been on a voyage for several months now, in search of a huge water Pokemon. She wondered whether he'd return soon. Then again, she considered, it honestly didn't much matter at this point. After she'd turned 17 a year ago, he'd allowed her to move out on her own and into her parents' small house on the outskirts of Viridian City, which he'd been looking after until she was old enough to claim it as her own. Yellow had been surprised to learn that her parents had left their house to her in their wills, especially since she'd been only two years old when they'd died, but she was happy to have it nonetheless.
Deciding that her uncle would come back eventually, as he always did, her thoughts turned to her friends, since, much like her uncle, they'd been away for a while. Green had been gone the longest. He'd set out two months ago to a faraway region called Kalos to look into some strange issues that had arisen there concerning one of the region's "legendary" Pokemon. Yellow didn't fully understand the situation, but she did recall him talking about the importance of "Z" and practicing some sort of funny language before he'd left. She wondered if he'd solved the problems yet, and if he'd be back soon.
Blue had disappeared more recently, and Red at the same time. Unlike with Green, Yellow didn't have any inkling of why they'd left. She supposed it made sense that they would leave the Viridian/Pallet area, since Blue often travelled to other cities and towns in search of a rich market for some device she'd constructed, and since Red occasionally left with no warning to take on a challenger or search for strong Pokemon to battle, but it didn't add up that they'd disappear on the exact same day. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but something told Yellow otherwise.
Then again, she didn't have much evidence to go on either way. She hadn't had contact with any of her fellow Dexholders since after Green left. There hadn't been much need, and a part of Yellow enjoyed the isolation. She visited the city when she needed to restock on groceries or pencils, but otherwise she spent most of her days in the forest fishing, Pokemon-watching, or, as she was right now, drawing nature.
The other part of Yellow, however, and this was the part that was beginning to take precedence, wished she was able to talk to her friends. This part of her felt the loneliness of her isolation greatly. She found herself thinking with increasing frequency how nice it would be to hear her friends' voices, or to just read a message from them. Many times in the past few weeks the idea had occurred to her to make a run to the Pokemon Center to record a video message for her friends, or to write them letters. A few times she'd even made it as far as scribbling Dear Red, on a sheet of paper, before coming to her senses and realizing how silly, or perhaps even annoying, it would be for her friends, if they were actually dealing with a serious situation, if they found a message or letter from her simply desiring conversation. She didn't want to bother them with her loneliness, and so she resigned herself.
The sound of rocks shifting in the creek snapped Yellow out of her thoughts and back to reality. She hadn't realized how long she'd been zoned out, but the ache in her drawing hand told her it had been at least half an hour and maybe more. She held her pencil in her mouth and cracked her knuckles to attempt to alleviate the fatigue, looking down at what she'd drawn while unfocused.
With a start, she found that she'd drawn something, or rather someone, that wasn't there. She felt a flush of embarrassment when she realized she'd slipped into her old habit of drawing Red. After he'd saved her from that Dratini nine years ago, she'd found herself drawing him, both consciously and unconsciously. More recently, though, she'd been making a serious effort to draw other things instead, after looking through her old sketches and finding that a disproportionately large amount of them were of him. After all, how would he react if he somehow got his hands on her sketchbook and found that nearly all of her drawings were of him?
Yellow thought she'd finally kicked the habit, but here he was on the page in front of her, standing in an athletic pose, pointing forward at something off the page as if he was commanding an unseen Pokemon in a tough battle. She imagined she could almost hear him, and that made her feel her loneliness even more heavily.
A long sigh escaped her lips as she stowed her pencil in her pocket and closed her sketchbook on the drawing. It wasn't a ruined picture by any means, but her hand, and now her heart, hurt. She didn't feel like doing anything more right now. Perhaps she would pick it up again tomorrow.
She paused and took another moment to enjoy the view. The lively greenness of the leaves, the clear water of the creek, glinting with reflection of the sunlight... perhaps it was personal bias, but Yellow considered the forest to which she was so closely tied to be the most beautiful place on earth.
Then a chill ran down her spine, as if the temperature had dropped thirty degrees in an instant, though the climate remained just as it had been. The back of her neck prickled. Something was wrong. Something was happening that the forest didn't like.
A humming... no, more a buzzing... gradually filled her ears. She wondered for a moment whether it was a swarm of Beedrill. It wasn't uncommon for them to gather around this time of day. The thought crossed her mind to call out Chuchu for protection, but something about the buzzing kept her hand from drawing a pokeball. She recalled the dull drone of the recently renovated Power Plant she'd visited on Route 10, and concluded that this was the same sort of noise. Not natural, but electrical.
Yellow briefly entertained the thought that this was just a gathering of Pikachu, charging the air with electricity. It wasn't impossible; she'd stumbled across one several times before. But then why did she feel such anxiety?
Stowing away her sketchbook, Yellow got to her feet and adjusted her straw hat. She determined the direction in which the buzzing was loudest, and set off at a jog towards it.
Yellow shared an interesting connection with the Viridian Forest she'd grown up in. It was more than just a home to her. It was quite literally a part of her, as much as the blood pulsing in her veins. Its power was her own, yet also its weakness. When the forest was strong, so was she, but when it was sickly, she was too.
Every so often a child was inexplicably born of the forest–not in, but of–, possessing this strange gift, this peculiar curse. Yellow was one of those children. She had the ability to heal, just as the forest, though the ability was not without its cost. She recalled a brief bout of serious depression she had experienced one winter when a large part of the forest died from frost. She'd drifted through the days, despondent, barely eating or sleeping, because she couldn't see the point, until the dead land began to feel the beginnings of new life, grass stalks popping up and the seeds of new trees beginning to stir under the earth, and her mood improved overnight. The forest was her strength, her home, but also her liability.
Another child with this unsought connection was Lance, who Yellow had defeated seven years ago. The very thought of him chilled her so much she missed a step, and she stumbled before continuing towards the noise. Lance was her demon, even these many years after his death. Many nights she woke up in a cold sweat from a nightmare about what would have happened should she have failed to stop him that day. But even more terrifying to her was how close the connection they shared was, and how easily she could have become him, had it not been for her chance encounter nine years ago with Red, when he had given her the advice that had shaped her into the person she was today. As many nightmares as she had about the bloodshed Lance would have caused it he had succeeded, just as many were filled with her seeing the destruction and terror all around, and then looking down to find that it was her hands that were soaked with blood.
Shaking her head, Yellow dug her fingernails deep into her palms to call herself back to reality. It didn't do to dwell on nightmares, especially those. Besides, the buzzing had grown louder. She was drawing close to the source.
A few moments later, the small Dexholder felt the prickling on her spine, which had intensified as the sound had grown louder, spike like it was screaming. Something was strange, and it was very close. The thought occurred that she should be quiet and stay hidden, and so she crouched close to the ground and carefully pushed aside the branches of a bush blocking her path. The more she cleared away the foliage, the more electric her skin felt. Whatever was causing such a disturbance to the forest had to be on the other side of this leafy wall.
She drew back her hands as she felt them protrude into the open air, and pleaded silently that whoever or whatever lurked behind the bush wall hadn't seen her. After a good ten seconds the noise hadn't changed, nor had anything burst out to attack her for intruding, so she assumed it was safe and pushed her face into the foliage, stopping this time an inch or two before she exposed herself.
On the other side of the bush was a man, probably in his thirties, and a Pokemon. Yellow's attention went first to the man, since humans were most out of place in the forest.
The first impression Yellow got of him was his eyes. They were sunken into his face and outlined with dark circles, presumably from lack of sleep. They stared with an empty, manic focus, and Yellow felt rather relieved they were not trained on her. There was something uncannily inhuman about the, She got the distinct impression that she was staring at the eye sockets of a skull rather than the eyes of a man.
The next thing she noticed was his shock of white hair, which made her reconsider her assessment of his age, though she eventually changed it back to her initial evaluation when she realized it was dyed from the natural black his sideburns retained. It was thick, bushy, and long. Yellow figured it must be gelled, since it stuck out instead of settling naturally.
His clothes seemed fit for a man half his age, and, as he was not half his age, gave him the air of a street gang member, and the gold chain around his neck, holding an intriguing golden pendant, gold watch clamped on his wrist, and oddly shaped gold sunglasses accentuated the impression. His face, while handsome, was marred with an angular, cruel expression that screamed: DANGER.
Next her eyes flitted to the Pokemon, and she nearly gave up her cover doing a double take when she fully registered what she was seeing. The Pokemon was tall, six feet at least and probably more, and large. It seemed to have an exoskeleton, similar to a Heracross, but that was where the similarities ended. The strange creature balanced its massive frame on two legs, yet it had two more smaller, less developed ones hanging higher up its sides, as though ribs were protruding from it. Its face was simple: two beady eyes staring out from an armored head and tendril/mandible-like protrusions where Yellow presumed its mouth was. Its two massive arms, with spikes at the end in place of fingers, hung from its "shoulders." Its back had a natural bend, not dissimilar to a large wave, such that it seemed to be constantly looming.
Yellow, now curious, took out her Pokedex (carefully, such that she didn't make any noise) in the vain hope that she might be able to identify it. Perhaps it was a further evolution of Kabutops, undiscovered until now. It did share some similar features to the fossil Pokemon. Hitting the mute button, she held up the Pokedex and let it scan the strange creature before her. She wasn't surprised, however, to see that it had no better idea of what this Pokemon was than she did. This was one of the oldest Pokedexes in existence: Red's original device that he'd given to her during an adventure a few years ago. That kind gesture still gave her a warm, happy feeling inside every time she used the Pokedex. Stowing the device away, she decided she would sketch this unfamiliar Pokemon for Professor Oak at some point and see if he knew what it was.
She turned her attention back to the man. He seemed to slouch, even though he was standing, and looked down at a strange device in his hand. At first Yellow assumed it was a Pokedex, but closer inspection proved her wrong. Instead of the folding design of a Pokedex, the device more resembled a handheld calculator with two short metal rods extending from the far end. Yellow squinted to get a better look at its buttons, but she couldn't see anything more from her current vantage point.
"Come on!"
The man's voice took Yellow by surprise, making her twitch and nearly give away her position. She'd been so focused on making observations that she'd nearly forgotten that the things she observed could move and speak.
His voice was angry, and he shook the device like he was attempting to strangle it. "Work, dang it!"
The device was unimpressed with his command. It continued to spit out static noise.
The man's skeletal eyes narrowed in a deathly scowl. "Worthless piece of junk! I don't know why I thought this would do anything in the first place." He now addressed his Pokemon, which inclined its head in what could have either been a nod of agreement or the first warning sign that it was about to attack–Yellow couldn't tell.
The man hammered one of the buttons with an angry finger. "I swear if this doesn't start getting results soon," he growled. "I'm gonna curb stomp it until–"
Yellow never found out the extent to which the man would curb stomp the device, since he was interrupted when the static buzz suddenly changed to a high-pitched, ethereal whistling that sent chills up her spine. When the sound shifted, the man shifted as well. He grinned menacingly, the manic light in his eyes intensifying. "Sick. Now we're getting somewhere."
Casting his eyes upward, he pointed the end of the device with the metal rods into the air in front of him, and pressed a button near its base.
Yellow's eyes widened in confused terror as a florescent blue light shimmered into existence in the air where the man pointed the device. It pulsed with greenish blue waves like ripples on a ruptured surface of water and grew, taking the shape of a crack, as though there was something struggling to break through the very air. The man's grin widened. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about!"
Yellow heard more bone-chilling whistling, and was shocked to hear that it was no longer coming through the device, but from the crack in the sky. And more terrifying than that was that it now sounded clearer, like whatever was making it was just on the other side of the crack, struggling to burst through.
The whistling intensified, and Yellow became struck with how much it sounded like the angry wailing of a ghost. At that thought, her throat constricted with panic. Could the thing making the noise be the ghost of Lance, come to take vengeance on her just like in her innumerable nightmares? There were so many ghost Pokemon... was it really so hard to believe that her demon had found a way back to torture her in her waking hours as well as her sleeping? The nightmarish idea made her want to curl up and lie in the fetal position, but her limbs were too seized with terror to oblige, and so she sat there, petrified, unable to turn her attention away from the scene, feeling cold and utterly alone in her terror.
She almost didn't notice when the crack in the sky vanished and the whistling faded back into electrical static. She almost didn't notice when the man cursed and glared at the device. "So close, but not stable enough! Ugh! Fine. I'll try again tomorrow. Come on, Goliath." She almost didn't notice when the man shut off the device and stopped the noise completely, and when he left the area along with his Pokemon and vanished into the thick foliage.
Eventually, though, Yellow did fully return to her senses, shoving her terror as deep inside herself as possible–the only way it was possible to bear. She rose to her feet, feeling sick in the pit of her stomach, and knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she had to stop that man, because whatever was on the other side of that couldn't be any good for the forest.
But...
Her hands trembled as the horrible fear rose up in her throat again when she thought of the eerie whistling noise that she knew would haunt her nightmares for years to come. She couldn't possibly do this alone, not when at any moment she could be swallowed by terror, or, worse, come face to face with the vengeful ghost of Lance. She needed help.
Swallowing hard (for her throat had become quite dry), Yellow drew the Pokegear she'd gotten a few years ago, though she only used it for emergencies, and slowly forced her shaking hands to type a number.
The person she'd called picked up on the second ring. Yellow gripped the Pokegear tight with both trembling hands in a vain attempt to steady them. "Blue, something's wrong. I need your help."