"The Rollercoaster Ride" (Of all the trouble kept her inside) - Chapter 1
High in the Andes Mountains in an ice and rock lined niche in a stony cliff sits a woman tensely coiled to strike, much like the arbok she loves and trains. She is striking but not conventionally beautiful, with a very long and full carefully arranged wave of crimson hair, angular high cheeked face, with large expressive sky-blue eyes, and a small mouth with full red lips bearing a seemingly permanent ironic smile. She is waiting, not entirely patiently for some one or some thing to appear in the pass below her, her hand reflexively gripping and loosing a red and white ball at her hip. She's not dressed for the windy and snowy conditions, although shoulder length black leather gloves and matching thigh high boots provide some modest protection. In spite of this she seems not to notice the chill in the air or the keening wind. Her mind is seething with thoughts of vengeance, her partners lie incarcerated in the valley below in the city of La Paz, Bolivia. She's determined to pay them all back for her suffering. Her name is Jessie.
An older teenaged boy strides confidently up the steep slope just below the pass. He has brown work pants, and a green utility vest, and carries a pack on his back. He has an air of assurance about him like someone who has overcome much in spite of only just over 18 years of life. He has a carelessly tousled mop of spiky black hair and looks out at the world with a perpetual squint. The narrowed eyes combined with his firmly set mouth give him an air of toughness. He appears relaxed, but is also alert to his surroundings like a well-tuned predatory animal. This stalking of dangerous cornered prey is something he feels no discomfort doing. He has been self sufficient, a single parent, an ascetic trainer and breeder of pokémon, and is something of a skilled outdoorsman. He sadly considers that there's one thing he can't handle, his behaviour around pretty women. Not for him platonic friendly relationships, his craving for love and someone to fill the void left by his lost mother makes him giddy around lovely creatures. It's a terrible distraction and makes him feel the fool. He's almost glad to be away from the local Officer Jenny and Nurse Joy and his ache for their arms and lips, he can now focus on his mission to aid his friend Ash Ketchem. His name is Brock.
The collision between these singular individuals is inevitable. Brock clears the rim of the pass, lightly hopping from boulder to boulder revealing his comfort around the rocky bones of the earth and its pokémon. Jessie tenses to spring as soon as she spies him, she clutches Arbok's ball more tightly. "Prepare for trouble!" she crows as Brock passes beneath her aerie. He looks up too late to react properly to the onrushing huge violet snake which strikes a glancing blow to his shoulder. He rolls, regains his feet, and hurls his own pokéball releasing a roaring onix. Arbok's poison sting causes the rock snake to barely flinch as it hurls a hail of boulders at the agile serpent. There is little soil high in the mountains, Arbok cannot go underground to escape. "Arbok use strength!" commands Jessie, and the great cobra hurls a boulder of its own with deadly accuracy. The rock hits Onix in the head and hurts it. Brock responds, "Kick up a sandstorm!" Debris and stinging ice particles fill the pass causing Jessie and Brock to take cover. "Strength again!" screams Jessie over the tumult. The boulder misses Onix and hits the adjacent cliff face with tremendous force. A loud crack sounds above the howl of the wind and the ledge gives way.
Jessie's eyes open, she rode the rock slide like a rag doll from her perch on the mountain wall. "Lucky to not be crushed like an egg" she thinks to herself. She rolls over and looks for Arbok, she sees her, she's weak, but conscious and warily keeping company with Onix. "What's Onix doing?" she thinks, ignoring her stiffness and bruises. She gets up painfully, and gingerly picks her way through the still swirling dust over the new rock pile. Next to the pokémon she sees the young man under a drift of rock, he looks pale. A pang comes to her chest and a tear wells up, "Oh no! I didn't want to kill anybody!" her inner voice wails.
"Don't just stand there Arbok! Move away some of these rocks!" she commands as she goes to her own knees and starts clearing the more manageable stones. Onix helps, and they soon have the youth clear of debris. She touches his face and chest and finds he's apparently not breathing. She feels desperate, she recalls her training as a nurse, and immediately sticks a finger in his mouth to clear his tongue, and puts her lips to his, blowing her hot breath into his lungs, praying all the while. To her huge relief, he coughs into her mouth, and his eyes flutter in less than two minutes. She looks down on him, and smiles at her success. He perceives this unexpected rescuer and smiles in return, groans and closes his eyes again. "What happened?" he croaks. "Um, the mountain came down on us. That's what happens when you throw rocks around up here", she says resentfully.
"Yeah", he intones weakly but decisively, "What do expect ambushing someone in a place like this?"
"Hmph! I didn't strip away your friends and attack humans with powerful pokémon, I haven't frustrated your ambitions at every turn. You have a lot of gall stalking me like a renegade pokémon", she says irritably.
"Well I didn't steal another trainer's pokémon and run off into the mountains!" Brock rejoins angrily. "Where is Pikachu anyway?"
"He's in a pokéball in my pack in a cave not far from here."
"How did you get him into a ball? He never goes into a ball", queries Brock.
"I used an ultra ball, and no it wasn't easy. I wasn't going to run around with him in a sack all the time", she says matter-of-factly.
"Well it looks like you got me, but Ash, Misty and Jenny will hunt you down", Brock says with resignation.
Jessie smiles ironically, "I haven't got you, I'm stuck with you now. Let's see what else is wrong with you."
"Hey! Get your ...ow! Off me! I ...I, uh, well...what's wrong with me?" Brock protests.
"I'd say you have a couple of broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder," Jessie says primly.
"And why can you say that?" he winces.
"Because I studied to be a pokémon nurse, and fighting pokémon bone structure is pretty much like yours", she retorts.
"Then that crazy blissey did know you then?" Brock accuses.
She sighs, looks at him sadly and nods, "Don't hold it against it, I was still an idealistic naive girl then. It had no idea of what I am now."
Brock looks at her more narrowly than usual, "And what are you now, Jessie?" his voice thick with contempt.
Her eyes tear briefly at the corners, she sucks in cold air and releases a puff of smoky breath, "I'm a failed thief with no faith in anything. There, are you satisfied?"
For all his social clumsiness around women he's empathic enough to see the wound he's opened, "Hey I'm sorry, we don't need any more pain after this disaster."
She actually manages a thin smile, "Thanks, but no thanks. You're just calling a spade a spade", she sniffs.
"I didn't need to hurt you when I owe you some gratitude", he says still apologetic.
"Forget it, I just woke you up so we can share freezing to death", she says dismissively.
"I'm going to have to use my jacket to make a sling for your arm, and let's see, do you have any bandages in that pack?" she's becoming businesslike again.
"Yeah", he groans, adjusting himself into a sitting position.
She goes about her business with an expertise that surprises Brock. For some reason he has felt no reason to respect this young woman beyond her trim figure and well proportioned face in countless previous encounters. Beyond this he could only see anger, spite, and a fearsome ferocious ambition that prevented him from even noticing she was indeed a girl only four or five years older than himself. Then there was always that stylish, goofy, tall, blue-haired fellow James always at her side. Certainly she was not an available option. But for some reason a thought worms its way into conscious thought. Ah, but no! Dismiss it, but still...
She's just finishing wrapping his mid-section, and is removing her white jacket. "Lord, she is a tight little craft!" he gasps internally. "Um, Jessie?"
"What, did I wrap the bandages too tightly?" she asks.
"Um, no...I was just wondering...", he ventures.
"What?" there's that ironic little smile of hers.
"What exactly is your relationship to James?"
She stops, the smile is gone replaced by a look of confusion, "He's my best friend in the world, we're seldom apart. When we're together it's like our half wits make a full wit. It's not like were in love I guess, but he understands me and, sometimes, I think I understand him. We're the dashing highwaymen."
"You sure you don't love him?" Brock sounds tight-chested.
She looks emptily at him, not sure if she should look at him or at some point far beyond his shoulder, "No, I can't say I am."
"Then what are you doing up here instead of sharing a cell with him?"
"I have Pikachu, that was our mission. I'd fail James if I didn't deliver it to the Team", she says half doubting the words as soon as they are said.
"Perhaps you have a choice after all", Brock says simply, "Go to James' side, or do your duty by Team Rocket."
She snaps to attention and returns to business as if turning on a fog lamp, "I'll think about it, but right now you need a sling."
.............................................
"Name?" the officious but pretty police officer intones primly.
He sighs, "J. P. Morgan."
She looks up at him with more mischief in her impish brown eyes than he had expected, "Seriously sir, what's the full name?"
"It's true, I am James Palmer Morgan", he says with a hint of a twinkle in his own soft green eyes.
"Funny parents', she notes as she inscribes the name in neat block print with her left hand he observes bemusedly.
"Oh yeah, very funny, they've imposed a lot more that that name on me over the years."
"Is that why you turned out this way?" she says looking surprisingly concerned. Her's is a pert face with a small turned up nose, a pleasant little mouth with thin lips, rather large, warm brown eyes, and carefully pinned blue hair save for a wispy curl that falls between those remarkably sympathetic eyes for a peace officer.
"No, I'm just a bad seed. And what's your name?" he says trying to sound seductive.
"I am Officer Jennifer A. Guy, but you can call me Officer Jenny. Everyone else does", she says in her official business tone.
"I see you're a lefty", he says trying to extend the conversation, "I thought all you Jennys were alike."
She rolls her eyes, "That's what all of you say. Sure there's family resemblance in looks and career, but we do have our little differences. Can't be helped, not even two stones from the same rock face are alike."
"Touché," he says smiling with a hint of a blush, "Then maybe you can let me off since you don't have anything against me or Meowth beyond some 13 year old kid's say so."
"As soon a those kids get back with your partner and the stolen pokémon we'll have plenty of evidence to lock you up here for a long time."
"I bet that would please you no end given you'll be seeing me every day", he says flippantly.
She unexpectedly flushes igglybuff pink, and says, "You wish."
"Not interested", he states, "You haven't seen my partner up close yet."
"If you expect me to get jealous, forget it!" she snaps a little too emotionally, "Let me conduct you to your stateroom Mr. J.P. Morgan."
The steel barred door clangs behind him with a disquieting finality it seems to him. The policewoman smiles wryly at him, and says, "We hope you enjoy your stay."
As Jenny walks away she's nagged by perverse thoughts. What a difference from the usual Rocket functionary she sees. They usually have shifty eyes, three days growth of dark beard, and dusty, unkempt looking black outfits. This one has manners, looks after himself, and carries himself well. He even shows flashes of good natured charm. "Boy, I've been working too hard", she says to herself as she hangs up the keys on the pegboard above her desk and sinks gratefully into her cushioned swivel chair.
James looks into the chipped mirror next to the commode in his cell. "Not bad", he thinks, "for a jailbird." Indeed, his well proportioned face with its frame of lank blue hair looks pretty good to him. He tries to push an insistent strand away from his eyes, but it falls back impudently. Just the right nose, compassionate eyes that give no hint of the wearer's sinister intent, a surpisingly resolute mouth for a fellow with so many misgivings about, well, everything. He flops on his cot and stares at the ceiling. Where was Jessie now? Where is Mewoth? He wishes he knew; the former was probably halfway to the nearest Team Rocket outpost before resuming the search for Mew that had brought them here. Pure dumb luck the twerps coming to La Paz for a pokémon tourney. Now, Meowth, they had probably stuck him into a pokéball and sent him to the local Poké Centre no doubt. This looked bad for the old team, at least Jessie might succeed. He sighs, stands up and starts a long bout of leopard-like pacing.
...........................................
"Hey, lemme outta here!" shouts the half metre tall cat pokémon.
"My you are an amazing little loudmouth", clucks a smiling, blue-eyed red-haired nurse. "I've never seen a talking pokémon before, but now that I finally have one here it won't pipe down."
"Lissen sister I've half mind ta cut ya where ya stand if ya don't turn me loose. I am notta abandoned or stolen pokémon. How many times do I haveta tell ya I belong ta da Viridian gym leader Giovanni?"
"Then I guess I will just repeat my question," the nurse patiently says in a smooth, slightly syrupy voice, "If your owner is Giovanni, why were you in the company of two notorious Team Rocket operatives when you were picked up?"
"No can do, can't answer dat", the Meowth flatly states crossing his front legs across his chest and closing his eyes.
"Then we're back at an impasse my little friend", Joy firmly notes.
With that she turns and quietly slips out of the holding room, "Be thankful we honour your desire to stay out of pokéball storage", is her parting shot.
"Geez. What I wouldn't do ta get outta here shorta fingering Gio and da Team", Meowth grouses disconsolately.
"Joy's nice enuff I s'pose", he thinks, "but deres nuttin' but poké chow in dis dump, I really could use a legga toiky. Dis is just great, I never knew catchin' Pikachu once n' fer all would cost Jim and me our freedom. Careful whatcha wish fer I guess."
He thinks back to the operation. Pretty typical save for the result. They tricked the twerps good, disguised themselves as Poké League officials they convinced the always credulous Ketchem kid to hand over the rat and ran for it. Only like 'The Cocaine Blues' says 'made a good run but ran too slow'. "That stupid Victreebell grabbed James and I got turned around in Weezing's smokescreen, so only Jessie slipped away from Jenny and the twerps. Success tastes pretty bitter", he thinks, and he curls up into a cozy ball on the floor and goes to sleep.
.................................................