Pokemon Whoa!

by metallicwolff

"What did you say your name was again?" asked the ancient Asian fellow behind the desk, not even looking up from his paperwork.

"Buttflew…Harold Octavius Templeton Buttflew. Level 21 Trainer for Team Instinct, and general all-around good guy. Seriously, you should know me by now. I'm in here every week. Now why don't you shuffle along and tell Professor Willow I'm here. I have plenty of, um…trade goods for him today."

With a raised eye and a look, the eldery man gave a curt nod and pushed back from the desk. Standing he said, "I'll be a moment. Make yourself comfortable at the bar."

As the man hobbled past the curtain directly behind the desk, Harry walked in through the main entrance to the nightclub. He never understood why Willow insisted on meeting here for there business transactions, but Harry didn't care. The PokeStop was one of the hottest nightclubs in town. He and his friends often tried to get in, but were turned away more often than not by the gravelers that stood guard. At least now, before official hours, he was allowed in without contest.

Harry was your typical Trainer, young, fit and highly motivated. The one thing that stood out about him, aside from his blue tinged black hair and black eyes, was the fact that he refused to wear his team colors. A member of Instinct all his training career, he despised yellow. He, instead, favored orange. His jacket was black with orange highlights, his pants and shoes were adorned with orange stripes, and his visor and backpack sported an orange Pokeball symbol. He liked being on a team, but still thought of himself as an individual.

Moving through the seating area, he made his way to the ornately carved bar that ran the length of the establishment. While a team of gravelers hurried about preparing for the upcoming night's crowd, Harry pulled out a stood and sat. Not five minutes later, his appraisal of the mahogany bar was interrupted by the person he was there to see. Professor Willow.

"Harold, my boy, good to see you again," said the Professor, as he held out his hand in greeting. Harold took the hand and shook it, "Afternoon Professor. Why does that old codger give me a hard time every week?"

Laughing, the ravages of age disappeared from the eccentric professor, and he moved behind the bar and poured he and Harry a drink. "He's just doing his job Harold. I like to keep my establishment very professional. You can't just let anyone in here."

"You own this place?"

"Yes, I do. Performing Pokemon research isn't the only thing I do. Now, what have you brought for me today?"

Taking a gulp of the harsh liquor given him, Harry stared at the professor and nodded. Taking off his backpack and setting it on the stool beside him, he carefully removed two dozen Pokeballs. While he was doing this, the professor stood, fasinated, watching each ball being placed on the bar. He'd 'oohh' and 'aaahh' at each one, but was very excited when the last five were removed. "Where did you get those?" he asked.

Smiling at the strange, long haired professor, Harry shook his head, "A good trainer never reveals where he finds his stash. So, how much for all of them?"

Five Pidgies, six Ratata, a Caterpie and seven Weedles were all pretty common, but the one Vulpix, two Squirtle, one Charmander and one very powerful, and obviously pissed off Pikachu were not. The professor crossed his arms, and stroked his clean shaven chin as he contemplated the specimen. "You know how much Harold. One candy each, no more, no less. That is the standard price."

"Come on professor, can't you see your way to giving a bit more for the last five? You know those are harder to come by. Maybe throw in some Stardust or something."

All humor was gone from his face, as he reiterated his offer. "One candy each."

"Alright, alright, one candy each. Maybe next time I'll take my business elsewhere. Heck, what do you need with all these Pokemon anyway?"

When Harry asked that question, it was as if the world had stopped, for everyone in the bar cessed what they were doing, including the professor. With an all to quick recovery, the professor reached under the bar and brought out a strong box and a smile, "Why Harold, I ensure they are healthy and return them to the wild."

"Yeah, sure you do," said the youth with a snort, as he finished off his drink.

While the professor counted out the candies from the strong box, Harry felt, more that saw, the Pokemon that worked for the professor moving closer. Looking over his shoulders, Harry was brought back from his thoughts as the lid to the box was slammed shut. "So, you want to really know what I do with the Pokemon Harold?"

"Hey, none of my business," said Harry quickly, trying to fend off any unpleasantries. He knew as well as anyone that there wasn't much of a market for caught Pokemon. Professor Willow was pretty much the only action in town, and he didn't want to ruin that. But as the professor continued to stare at him, he felt hot breath on his shoulders. A quick glance showed him that he was now surrounded. Not by gravelers, but by their ugly evolutions – golems.

With a gulp, he stammered, "Seriously, sorry Professor. I was just joking around. I'll just take whatever you think is fair and be heading out. There are a lot of other Pokemon out there, you know, 'Gotta Catch'em All'. So, anyway…"

Cutting him off, the professor took on a reflective pose, "You know something Harold, I like you. Remind me of myself, you do. So tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to give you a little tour. I'm going to show you exactly what I do with all these Pokemon, and then I'm going to give you two options. How does that sound?"

"Um, sure. That'd be great," the youth now completely unnerved.

"Good, good. Now come with me. My golem friends will make sure you don't get lost along the way. Oh," said the professor over his shoulder as he walked through the doorway behind the bar, "don't even think about attacking with your Pokemon. I have more than a dozen golem here, and twice as many gravelers waiting for me to give orders. Got it?"

"Yes sir."

Through the doorway they walked. There was a small kitchen used for cooking the meals ordered by the patrons of the PokeStop. Nothing out of the ordinary, until he opened another doorway at the back of the room. Behind the door was a stairway leading down.

Harry followed the professor down three flights of stairs. When they reached the bottom, the professor entered a code into a keypad and a laser scanned his retina. When that was completed, the metal door in front of them slid open. On the other side was something out of a dream…or a nightmare.

An underground Pokemon Gym was easily seen beyond a large glass wall. Pokemon were training everywhere. All of then had a strange device around there neck, or in the case of some of the more 'strange' specimen, around an appendage. "This is my gym. Each night we hold battles. But these battles are to the death. And on the other side of the gym," pointing beyond, "is where I have my other obsession. My restruant."

"A restruant? For what?"

"Why, for Pokemon."

"You make them battle and then you feed them?

"No, my boy. I have some of the most talented chefs on staff. Their speciality is preparing and servine Pokemon to my paying customers…and it isn't cheap."

Harry could only stand and stare. Smiling, the professor asked, "Have you ever tasted fried Weedle? Delicious! Or Pikachu steak, with a light wine sauce? Superb! Harold, this is my empire. I give you trainers candy, and you make me millions!"

Harry was astonished to say the least. He'd heard of underground gyms; had even tried to find some to make a quick buck. But this was unbelievable. And to eat Pokemon? He thought he might be in the middle of a nightmare, unable to wake. That, however, was not the case, as a golem pushed him towards a chair.

The professor had sat down and faced the window, watching the training. Harry was pushed down into a seat next to the mad scientist. "Harold, all this could be yours one day."

At that Harry was even more shocked. "What?"

Looking at the boy, he said, "I'm getting older. I have no children of my own. I'd hate to see all that I've built up lost. I need a business partner – a young business partner. Someone that can appreciate every aspect of Pokemon training. I think that partner can be you. Now, your two choices. One, you can walk away and never return. I have ways of making sure what you've seen will never be remembered or believed."

"You're gonna kill me?" shouted Harry as he tried to stand up, but was pushed back down by a rather large golem.

"No Harold, I am not. I do, however, have a very powerful Hypno under my employ. He can make sure none of this is ever remembered. So, your second choice is to take up my offer. Be my partner. Continue to catch Pokemon for me…for us. And in return, I will teach you the business and leave everything to you when I'm gone.

"There it is. Those are your choices. What say you?"

"Why me?"

"Why you? Because Harold, I've watched you for years. You are the most gifted of all trainers I've dealt with. I want the best for my business. I want you as my partner. So, your answer?"

"Well, I need to think about it for a bit. Can I get back to you on this?"

"I'm afraid not Harold. I'll have your answer before you leave this room."

At that, a Hypno that exuded power walked through the door. Professor Willow simply stared at Harry and waited.

"I guess you leave me no choice, not that it's really a choice. I'm in. I'll work with you. I think it's a bit evil, but what the heck, I love Pokemon. Maybe they can make a nice living for me."

Smiling once again, the professor clapped his hands and a Meowth walked in from another door. "Yes sir?" it purred.

"Take the Pikachu young Harold brought in and have it prepared. Tonight we celebrate a new partnership. Tonight Harold will taste true victory over Pokemon!"

As the Meowth walked away, an evil grin on it's face, Harry asked, "Was that a talking Meowth?"

"Yes, it was. Paid a fortune for him, as he's one of a kind, but he's worth every candy."