The Chosen Ten
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon! I don't even have my own bedroom…
A week ago Ash Ketchem and his friends had run
into Ash' rival, Gary Oak. Once again, the rich and successful trainer had let
Ash know exactly what Gary thought of him, his pokémon
and his ideas of battling and training.
He had said that Ash was a pitiful excuse for a trainer and that the town of
Pallet needed at least one trainer who had his head screwed on right to make up
for Ash' incompetence. Therewith, of course Gary had meant himself and a
fellow Pallet-trainer who went by the name of Cassandra Birche.
Of course, Gary had used more and fancier words, but the message was clear and simple,
namely 'You're a loser, Ash Ketchem'.
As a result of this new round of verbal abuse from the auburn-haired boy who had once been his best friend, Ash' self-confidence was at an all-time low. Ash found he couldn't get Gary's words out of his head, no matter how much his friends told him not to think about it or to put it out of his head. The more time passed, the more he became convinced that Gary had been right. Ash became more depressed with each passing minute.
At the present time, Ash was downright miserable
and he could barely get himself to eat, let alone fight battles. He was
definitely not up to fight Team Rocket, who had once again crossed their path
to capture his faithful friend Pikachu.
The two humans and the feline pokémon had his friend knocked out in a cage that
could withstand fire, water and ice; didn't conduct electricity and couldn't be
slashed open.
But the worst thing was that instead of their usual hot-air balloon, the
Rockets had a car. And not just any car at that, they had a new Ferrari model
that supposedly could pull up from nothing to a hundred-and-fifty miles an hour
in a mere second. If that were really so, Ash would never be able to catch up
to them.
I'm an awful trainer, Ash thought sadly,
running a hand over the spot on his shoulder where Pikachu
usually sat when she didn't feel like walking. I can barely remember all of Pikachu's attacks.
The idea brought tears to his eyes and Ash fled into the nearby woods. He
ignored his friends who called after him, even though they were sounding
worried and upset.
Misty looked through the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ash' Pokémon League baseball cap, but saw nothing but trees and more trees. Disappointed, she looked back at Brock. His expression mirrored Misty's, but also showed concern for his friend — whereas Misty looked ready to kill.
The redhead looked at the smug Rockets and
angrily pulled out her heavy mallet from her small rucksack. 'You're either all
coming with me to find him, or you're going to find out just how heavy this
thing is,' she threatened.
Jesse, James, Meowth and Brock nodded nervously. Each
of them wondered how they had allowed the situation to come to the point where
Misty showed off her nearly inhuman strength. Even Jesse had trouble when
fighting the girl, and she herself had been given a healthy dose of strength as
well.
The Rockets gave Misty the keys to the car when she asked for them and the quintet got into the car, three under heavy protests when it became clear to them that they were going to have to go in the back seat. Misty started the engine and flew down the road. If they wanted to catch up with Ash, they would have to drive all the way around the forest. Ash would be out of the forest after less than a quarter of a mile.
'Why do you think he ran off?' Brock wondered
aloud.
'I don't know, but I'm sure it has something to do with our last encounter with
Gary,' Misty answered.
Cramped in the back of the sports car, the Rockets sat fuming over having been
threatened into searching for their lost enemy. 'Or maybe, it's because he's an
idiot,' Jesse suggested sweetly.
Meanwhile Ash had reached the City of Ice and Fire. It was one of the twelve Elemental Cities, so named because they had each been built around immense and ancient temple complexes. The cities' centres were therefore built in a wide circle around the temple; so the suburbs housed the malls and other such centres; and the City Hall was located just behind the old walls.
Ash was exhausted by the time stopped. He had reached a tiny and dirty alley, and had little choice but to slide down the walls that were green and slippery from the moss that grew on them to catch his breath again. Ash wouldn't have been surprised to see rats scurrying through the alley. He was convinced he was sitting in a grimy alley that any self-respecting homeless man wouldn't be caught dead in because he was a lousy person and an even lousier trainer. He broke down crying, and with each sob that wracked his body the fifteen-year old became more depressed and convinced he was alone.
The wind blew a business card between Ash' fingers. He looked at it. 'Sabrina Practice counsels the hopeless and helps those beyond help. 13 Psychestreet, Ice and Fire City,' it said. I have to try this, Ash thought and stood up. He wiped his eyes dry and sniffed a few times. He then walked away, hoping to find the practice before nightfall.
And all that time, a shaded figure had silently watched. 'It has begun,'
he said.
The figure smiled unpleasantly and leaned forward in his chair. Light spilled
onto his young but scarred face, mouth merely a thin line with a gash that was
slashed parallel to his cheek bone, still bleeding though obviously a very old
wound. He physically appeared to be in his early twenties, but the deep pain
and ageless wisdom shining from his deep purple eyes belied his true age. 'Alea jacta est.
Let the games begin.'
He looked up, through the ceiling and into heaven. 'It's your move,' he said to
the higher powers.