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Chapter 1
"Hand me another one."
The hobo popped open a beer bottle and handed it to Tesla, the goggle-wearing old Pikachu slammed it down his throat faster than any human.
"I never seen a Pokémon drink before." exclaimed one of the hobos.
"Well," said Tesla, "now you had."
The freight train groaned and lumbered along the rail at a steady speed, Tesla didn't mind the darkness of the freight car. The metal interior proved warm and cozy. He had been riding with the hobos for a day now, and they sure know how to make a place comfortable with limited stuff. Using a tattered blanket, crumpled newspapers, cardboard boxes, and duct tape. They crafted a makeshift couch. It looked similar to a redneck couch, but more rough and crude. Tesla took delivery of sitting on it, since his reputation precedes him. For once in his life, he was glad of it instead of annoyed. Or maybe that was the alcohol working its magic.
"So what have you been doing since you retired, Tesla?" asked the hobo who called himself, the "Hobo Lord."
Tesla thought up an answer, "Oh, just roaming around, seeing the world for its natural beauty. I get around, like you guys, though I'm more of a tramp than a hobo. I often claim old age as an excuse, but I doubt most of everyone I encounter knew it's bullsh*t."
Hobo Lord laughed, "Hard to believe your a century old."
"Most Mouse Pokémon never even reached 50. I blame technology for keeping me around, everyone want to see me battle on the telly. The kids often get cocky and try to battle me, in public. They pulled out a reasonable Pokémon, often a starter, then battle me. Guess what I did?"
"You battled?"
Tesla shook his head, "No, I fought. Different from battling, because when you fight, there are no rules. You should had seen the look on the kids' faces when I incapacitate their Pokémon with my clever karate moves, watching them cry home was better than any movie."
"Why?" Hobo Lord asked.
"Well . . . I'm retired. I don't want to battle anymore. I'm done with that life. So I played dirty and bend amateurs to my rules, they abort their capture attempt and ran for the hills. I just simply walked away like nothing even happened."
Tesla laid down on the couch and sat the beer bottle aside, the buzz in his brain was ticking and bubbly. He had enough booze for one day, "You know, people never leave me alone. I'm so damn popular that I often wish to dig my own grave and bury myself. Nobody gets it, they never do. They don't know how a Pokémon's life is like. They had no idea that I was brought into Pokémon battling in a rusty cage, I'm just glad that my trainer took me out of it. He understood my suffering, and maybe his best-friend. I don't know if I would ever meet another person who knows."
The car went silent, nothing but the rumbling and groaning of the locomotive cruising along. Tesla slept on the couch, giving off light snores. It was a dreamless sleep. He doesn't entirely trust the hobos so he kept an ear finely tuned in case something stirred. Sure enough, it had. The train started slowing down, he could feel it tug his body as it decelerate. Tesla opened his eyes and turned toward the hobos, "We're almost to the rail station?"
"Yup," said Hobo Lord, "we're almost there."
Tesla sat up and scratched his back, "I'll be getting off here, its nice talking to you guys."
"Take care, Tesla," said one of the Hobo Lord's friends, "Hopefully you won't have any problems to deal with."
"I hope so to."
Within minutes, the train ground to a halt. Hobo Lord unlatched the car door and opened it, bright morning sunlight shined through. Tesla took one last swig of his beer and tossed the bottle aside, he jumped out of the car and Hobo Lord closed the door behind him. The old Mouse Pokémon found himself surrounded by other trains with their cars. Faint whistles and voices toot and yammer in the distance, the feeling of civilization. Half drunk from beer, Tesla wobbled as he walked along the rail tracks. He kept his head low, any humans coming around to make an inspection of the trains might spot him and raise chaos. Not what he wanted right now. Tesla took a deep breath and crawled underneath the trains, making a stealthy past as the rail yard tend to routine business.
He stopped, Tesla held his breath and watched as a human walked past him. The human was wearing blue jeans and a pair of work boots. Tesla poke his head out to get a better look, sure enough it was an inspector, walking down the tracks with a clipboard in his hand and a pencil on his ear. Tesla crept out from underneath the train car and scuttled past the inspector. He didn't noticed a thing. The old Pikachu squeezed underneath another train and popped out the other side.
Up ahead he saw what looked like the train station itself, turns out there were passenger trains on the other side of the rail yard. Tesla could see the people lining up to the ticket booths, waiting patiently for a seat on the trains. One train was heading to the town of Dixie, he could see people packing into the train as it was getting ready to leave, "That's gotta be it," Tesla thought aloud, "I gotta get on there."
Tesla crawled to the edge of the concrete platform and scurried across its edge, he kept an eye up for anyone who might be watching. There were none. He reached the other side of the platform and peaked over it, one of the workers in the train yard was telling people to get back. The train steamed and whistled, it was getting warmed up. No time left. Tesla crouched and crept up to the train, once again he checked to see if anyone was looking. No one noticed as he climbed up on the passenger car and hopped up onto the roof.
He laid flat on his belly and waited. The locomotive blew its whistle and started moving, in seconds the train started picking up speed and pulled out of the station. The train passed by many freight and passenger trains, the station slowly becoming more of a speck in the distance. When he felt the train was far enough from the station, Tesla relaxed. He won't need to worry about authority for-
"Hey," called out a voice, "what are you doing up there!?"
Uh-oh. Tesla thought.
. . .
Ash sat by the window, it took his breath away. These pristine forests almost look untouched. In Unova's most isolated providence, land development was rare as it was foreign. No cabins built, no campsites established. Nothing. Just a huge patch of untamed wilderness for countless wild Pokémon to enjoy. All that forest surround a town so small, maps would mark "Actual Size" right underneath the name. Ash tried to remember what it was called. Dixie, right? Not a single road connect to Dixie. Used to, but for unknown reasons, the local populace had planted a dense cluster of trees in the dirt roads. Thirty years of growth formed an impenetrable wooded area. The diversity of the trees help it roughly blend in with the forest between the reforest area. Not very noticeable on the ground, but sticks out like a sore thumb by air.
The only access to Dixie was by train, Ash and his friends managed to buy a ticket for the next train ride. It was difficult. The clerk at the station was hesitant at first. Strangely though, he changed his mind when he saw Pikachu on Ash's shoulder. The change from nervousness to calm made Ash wonder what was up. Yes, Pikachu wasn't native to Unova and he'd been getting a lot of attention. Ash couldn't recall the last time Pikachu's presence calmed the nerves of a stranger. Maybe he had before, but he couldn't remember. Stuff like that roughly gets remembered.
"Pika Pi." said Pikachu.
Ash looked down and saw Pikachu leaped on his lap, the Mouse Pokémon snuggled by his side and looked up at him with glazed eyes. Ash stroke Pikachu's ears and smiled, "How you're doing, buddy?" he asked.
"Pikachu!" Pikachu said cheerfully.
"So what are we going to do in Dixie, Ash?" Cilan asked, he sat next to Ash as Iris and her Axew sat in the seat behind them. Ash pulled out a small notebook and checked it,
"We're going to find someone named Andy," said Ash, "He's a Pokémon doctor who lives out around here, we're going to track him down and ask a few things."
Cilan made a puzzled look, "What are we going to ask him?"
"I heard that Andy knows of special tips about Pokémon training, tips that few people would ever know. Pokémon Masters use his kind of tips and tricks to get at the top of the field. If we learn those tips, we may stand a better chance in future Pokémon battles."
Cilan glanced around the train car, "I wonder what those tips are, could they be useful?"
"I don't know," said Ash, "If they aren't, then we could stick around and figure out the oddities of Dixie. Like, why aren't any roads connecting to it."
"Pika." Pikachu nodded in curiosity.
"Get off of there!" an angry voice cried.
"No." a calm voice replied.
Ash and Cilan looked to where the commotion was coming from, outside between two passenger cars a train attendant was yelling at something on the roof. His patience running thin, ready to blow his stack. The door was wide open, everyone in earshot turned towards the train attendant and listened in on the argument, "Unova transit regulations firmly stated that no one, and I repeat, no one, should be on the roof of the passenger cars! I please ask you again to get off!"
"But it has a lot of wind up here," said that calm voice again, "Very breezy and roomy, and open."
"Don't whine at me. Wait a second, how are you even talking? You're a Pikachu, a-"
"A furry ball of piss with nothing better to do, but to piss people off."
Uh-oh, Ash thought, I know that attitude.
Pikachu saw the look on Ash's face and understood. He hopped on his shoulder as his trainer stood up, "I better check this out."
"I'll go with you, Ash." said Cilan.
Iris and Axew stuck their heads up, "What's going on?" Iris asked.
"Axew?" Axew asked.
Ash shrugged, "I don't know. But whatever it is, it's not going to end well."
Ash walked up at the front as people and Pokémon looked on, his friends followed right behind him. They stepped outside, the world zipped by as the train's momentum kicked up. Wow, so it was breezy out here. Ash wondered why there was no such thing as convertible cars for trains.
"What's wrong, sir?" he asked the train attendant.
"Pika Pika?" Pikachu asked as well.
The train attendant looked at Ash, then pointed up on the roof, "That's what's wrong. That Pikachu won't come down, is he yours?"
Ash looked up on the roof, his eyes went big. 107 year old Tesla Westinghouse sat on the roof of the car, calm and relaxed with a smile on his face. Turbulence from the freight car breezed across his fur like a gentle hurricane, giving youth to the elderly Pokémon. The old Pikachu looked out into the horizon, enjoying the view of the natural wilderness.
"No," Ash answered, "nobody owns him."
The train attendant grumped, "Well someone's gotta pull him down from there, he'll might fall and get ground up in the tracks."
Ash held his hands over his mouth and yelled, "Hey, Tesla!"
Tesla looked down at Ash, he lit up with excitment, "Ash, it's good to see you again! I never thought I would bump into you in a train! What a coincidence. Well, anyway, come up here. The air's amazing!"
"I have to pass on that, Tesla," said Ash, "You gotta come down, you'll hurt yourself!"
Tesla frowned, he stood up on his hind legs and held up a fist, "That sounded like something came from your Ma. Well how about that, goody-two-shoes," Tesla spun around and stuck his tail up at him, "You're not my trainer, not even my Pa! I put up 70 years of strict rules from my trainer and I deserve some freedom for crying out loud!"
He spun around and faced him, "I had doctors who died on me, you know. They all told me the same thing! Don't eat too much fat! Always avoid the junkfood! Get plenty of exercise everyday! That's what they all yammer at me for all these years . . . and so I disregard them and they died on me! How about them apples!"
The train attendant turned to Ash and asked, "What is he talking about?"
"He's making excuses to stay up there, he's not making this up. He really did had doctors who died on him."
"Pikachu." Pikachu nodded.
Ash turned back to Tesla and called up, "Well then, can you come down so we don't have to shout over the wind?"
"No!" was Tesla's terse reply.
The raven-haired boy sighed and pulled out a Poké ball, "Snivy," he commanded, "use Vine Whip to get Tesla down!"
Ash tossed the Poké ball and Snivy materialized before him in a bright white light, "Snivy!"
The Grass Snake Pokémon uncoiled her two vines and stretched them out. Tesla laughed, "So that's how its going to be. Well, guess what, Ash?"
"What?" Ash asked.
"Pika? Pikachu asked as well.
Tesla waved a fist at him again and spoke in a defiant voice, "You'll never take me alive!"
The old Pikachu spring his legs and leaped off the train. Up ahead, the train passed a large green welcome sign. Just when Tesla was mid-air, he plowed straight into the metal sign at a hundred kilometers an hour with a heavy metalic thud. The train attendant's jaw dropped. Ash and his friends gasped, "Tesla!"
"Pikachu!" Pikachu cried.
"Axew!" Axew cried.
The group went silent, staring at where Tesla once sat as the turbulence continued to blow around them. People and Pokémon who saw Tesla leap off panicked, one girl cried, "No, the poor Pikachu!" Ash shook his head. Horrified as he was, he had to admit. That was pretty funny. That Mouse Pokémon could take in a lot of abuse and live to tell the tale. But he wasn't sure about this, getting a face full of metal from a sudden stop could kill. Tesla needed help, he was old and his bones was laced with arthritis. What was even wrong with him, anyway? Why was he talking like that, acting like an immature child? That wasn't like him.
"Can you stop the train!?" Ash asked hesitantly.
"Pika Pika!?" Pikachu asked.
The train attendant shook his head, "This train won't stop for anything. All I could do is place a call to the Unovan police and pick Tesla up, they'll take him to the nearest Pokémon Center. The closest one happened to be in Dixie. Say, you're heading over to that town?"
"Yes." said Ash.
"Well, kid. If you stumble into that Pikachu, find out what his problem was. A Pikachu his age with a medical condition shouldn't be a loose cannon like that," the train attendant ran a hand through his hair, "Damn, I never seen anything like that before. A talking Pikachu jumping off a train, my wife won't believe this."
The train attendant left toward the front of the train. As Ash's friends head back inside, he pointed Snivy's Poké ball at her. She turned to face him, the Grass Snake Pokémon wasn't thrilled at what happened either, "Snivy," Ash commanded, "return."
A red beam shot at Snivy and was reabsorbed into the Poké ball. Ash shrunk the Poké ball and clipped it back onto his belt, then rejoined his friends in the passenger car, "I hope Tesla's okay." he said to his Pikachu.
"Pika." Pikachu muttered.
. . .
A throbbing ache pound inside Tesla's head. He let out a moan as consciousness came too. When he opened his eyes, blue sky greeted him. He felt his head, something was wet. Tesla looked at his hand and saw it was caked with blood. Strange, how did that happen? Tesla sat up, his chest and belly ached. He looked up and noticed a large sign in front of him,
WELCOME TO THE DIXIE
POPULATION: 150
A massive dent took up part of the sign, vaguely shaped like a Pikachu. With tail and all . . . Oh, now he remembered. He jumped off a train and hit the damn sign like a cartoon character on TV. Tesla laughed, then yelped. His recent injury, a broken rib that barely healed, stabbed him with pain. Tesla stood up and felt blood trickle down his forehead. The old Pikachu felt his head and looked at his hand, his fingers were painted red. His forehead started throbbing with gradual pain, making it difficult to think.
"Why did I do that?" Tesla asked himself.
Because you're drunk, you old fart! swore an ominous voice inside his head.
"Old fart?"
Yeah, you heard yourself.
"Damn."
Start moving you bastard, day's wasting. The police are coming to get you. Ugh, again.
"How do you know?"
They always do.
Tesla nodded, "Okay then, the town should be . . ." he spun around and pointed off toward some trees, "That-a-way, I think."
Get away from the railroad, Tez. They're coming.
"Okay, okay . . . I'm moving."
Tesla put pressure on the gash on his head and walked off towards Dixie, bumbling and singing a tune along the way.
. . .
Business in the isolated town went on as usual. Small stores opened and pedestrians walked in to browse their wares. A street cop whistled a tune as he strolled down the sidewalk, passing by tight alleys around fast food restaurants. He peaked around for any sign of the Dixierats. Often at times they would come out from Dixieland National Park in search for food. Those hungry things. The Dixierats were notorious for digging into the trash, digging up all kinds of scrap food. They make a big mess as they eat, entire alleys would be covered with trash after an eating period. Usually they come in groups of three and five, breathing in garbage like no tomorrow. Sometimes there would be loners that would come around. They were less of a concern since they don't make as much mess as the groups. Lone Dixierats often walk around town, sniffing trash cans. When they find one full of scrap food, they climb right in and start eating.
To combat this problem, all organic and natural waste was separated from trash. They dump them all in green trash cans and dumpsters, all marked with a lightning bolt. The idea was the Dixierats would investigate them and find a good cache of scrap food, then they associate the green cans and lightning bolt as a storage for food. The idea worked. The Dixierats started eating out of those cans and ignoring the main trash bins. Only two problems with the cans, one was that sometimes people throw away in the wrong bin. Confusing the Dixierats. The second problem was when they go empty. The Dixierats would complain, some would search the regular trash again for any food. Others decided to break into homes and help themselves to people's pantries. When that happens, the police would come in and remove them. Since the Dixierats were feral Mice Pokémon, half-tamed in most cases, they don't put up a struggle. The police often pick them up with their bare hands and chuck them outside. But to be on the safe measure, they wore rubber gloves while handling them.
The street cop continued down his patrol, passing by a green trash can in the process. When the cop passed, the can stirred, and a Dixierat poked its head out. A young Pikachu climbed. His arms and legs were rubber, wobbling as he struggled to get his balance. His belly stuffed with garbage, the Pikachu planned to sleep it off once he got back to the park.
The Dixierat mumbled and cooed as he strolled down the alley, he head out into the street and strolled down the sidewalk. People looked on, wondering if he was up to something mischievous. But he wasn't, he was just passing through. A girl stopped and adored him. The Dixierat smiled and cooed as she petted his head. The mother stepped in and grabbed the girl's arm, pulling her away into a store. The Dixierat sighed and moved on.
He strolled down the sidewalk, sniffed at anything that caught his curiosity. He looked both ways at the street, then scampered across. The Dixierat looked at everything and anything. He had all the time of the world to do something, often Dixierats couldn't find anything to do. So they usually spend a lot of their time laying around, sleeping as such. This Dixierat was a little explorer, he always explore the town for anything new. He knew every street cop by name and travel route, know every trash can locations, escape routes in town, special safe zones to lay row after stirring up trouble. The Dixierat knew them all, and he always update his knowledge. Those who were too scared to venture out rely on him, give him their trust. He couldn't let them down, it would ruin his reputation and pride. Since he had nothing better to do, he took the moment to get a refresh from the town. He might not be able to later.
As the Dixierat passed through another alley, he spotted another Pikachu. Oh, it was the elder Pikachu. A first generation Dixierat. The old fart was in bad shape, always had been for decades. Missing an eye and hand, arthritis attacking his joints, old injuries healed into grotesque positions. The old Pikachu was in the world of hurt. He limped along slowly on all fours, staring straight out with a face of dispair.
The Dixierat stopped and watched the uncle past by. Just as he was about to walk out of the alley, the elder Pikachu glanced at the Dixierat. He stopped. His good eye got a fix on him. It was heartbreaking. The elder almost never talked to anybody. Any human who comes his way, he cries. Nobody knows why he cries when interacted. Some say it was a defense reaction, others say he was voicing his feelings. Maybe it was just habit, didn't really meant it. But nobody knows. Nobody will ever know.
Five minutes went by, the young and old Dixierats stared each other in vague silence. The younger one finally stood up on his hind legs, and asked, "You need any help?"
The old Pikachu was silent, he just stared at the Dixierat for a few more seconds before turning around and heading back the way he came.
"I could help, you know."
The elder Pikachu kept walking, this time holding his head low, dragging his battered and chewed up tail behind him, Pour uncle, the Dixierat thought, how long had he suffered like this?
The Dixierat left him be. The uncle could take care of himself, albeit barely. The youngster looked on and watched him vanish turning a corner. The Dixierat got down on all fours and strolled off, sniffing any object along the way.
. . .
"That would be 150 Pokédollars, sir." said the clerk lady.
A young man in his late teens handed her the money and picked up the ice cream bars and coke. A Plusle and Minun stood behind him, their eyes glazing, barely containing their drool. The Emolga sitting on his shoulder couldn't help it either, it clutched the side of the teen's head as he nod, "Thank you."
"Have a nice day." the clerk said.
Mark Kissinger stepped out of the store and sat down at the curb, then handed his Pokémon the ice cream bars, "Here you go girls," said Mark, "I know you've been begging for them a while now."
"Emolga!" Emolga cheered, she jumped on Mark's lap and he handed her an ice cream bar.
"Plu!" Plusle cheered when she got hers.
"Min!" Minun cheered as well.
The Pokémon pulled off the wrapping and bit into the ice cream sandwiches, Mark popped the coke bottle's cap and sipped it. The shade from a thick spruce tree covered him and most of the road, the thick temperate climate was nice today. The weatherman said that it might stay around 20 degrees Centigrade for the next few days until the thunderstorm. For now, clear skies 24 hours a day.
Mark looked around him, he didn't see much. One of few Dixie's convenience stores sat in the outskirts of town. Well within the town limits, though it don't felt like it. More like a store was dropped in the middle of a forest. He took another sip of his coke, it was cold and strong, just what he liked on a nice day with his Pokémon.
Officially, Mark was a Unovan citizen, but technically speaking, he was from an island well far off from the mainland. Faraday Island they called it, known for being a rebellious province. Mark had no interest in politics, it didn't faze him that his island was part of something politically bigger. The Island's nonsense proved too much for him, things went hairy since its famous Pikachu left Faraday Island for maybe the final time. Good for him. That old Pikachu's been a close friend and a detriment to his family for generations. Yes, generations, literally generations! Mark chuckled, amazing his dad forgave the piss ball for all the hard time he caused in his childhood. Back then the old Pikachu was grumpy and mean, now ripe with old age, he'd cooled to a nice demeanor. But doesn't mean he stopped being an ass.
"Old fart," Mark thought out loud, he sipped his cola and groaned, "I can't believe I'm tracking Tesla down. Can't you believe it guys? We're following him because one, he's well associated with my family, and two, we have nothing better to do than to sit on our asses and stare at the TV all day. No wonder my dad didn't object when I told him I'm heading to the mainland to look around."
"Emo?" the Sky Squirrel asked.
"It didn't take much persuasion, Emolga. He probably considered kicking me out of the house for a while," Mark took another sip of his cola, "I'm eighteen now, old enough to own a house. Not old enough to drink though. Screw you, Unova. So long as I'm living under my dad's roof, I'm under his rules," Mark snickered, "Like he had any rules, ironic for having a cop as a father."
Mark stroke Emolga's ears and scratched her back. Emolga held her head back, her mouth gaping open in awe revealing half melted ice cream and pulverized brown cookie bread, "You like Tesla?" he asked his Pokémon.
Emolga nodded vigorously, "Em!"
"Even after he fried your tail with a Thunderbolt?"
She nodded again, "Em."
Mark snickered, "Well, that's what happened when anyone tries to battle him. He fries your ass till it melts into the asphalt. I bet he had the intention of killing you," he looked back out into the forest, nearby birds sang their songs as the wind blew gently against his hair, "I wonder what world he lived in before he came to Faraday Island all those years ago."
Plusle and Minun crawled up on his lap and rubbed their heads against Mark's shirt, he sat down his coke and scratched their ears and back. They laughed and giggled as he scratched the hard to reach places, "I see you finished your ice cream bars already."
The Cheering Pokémon nodded, "Plu/ Min!"
"Okay," said Mark, "We're going to poke around town to see if they know any secrets. There's a reason why train tickets to this place are priceless, they don't want us here. Not us Unovan citizens!" he snickered, then propped up a boot, "Damn my feet ached in hiking through that forest, tickets outta here are remarkably cheap. I'm not hiking outta this town through the brush."
Emolga giggled.
"Hey, I'm the one doing all the walking here. I might as well have you walk from the ocean to here. Come on, let's see if there's anything in town we could find to help get some word about the forest."
Mark finished his coke and tossed it in the recycling bin, Emolga hopped on his shoulder as he carried Plusle and Minun on top of his backpack. He stretched his arms and legs and head down the road, it was wide and empty. Nobody coming through as far as he could see.
"This road's deserted," Mark noted, "either because it's still morning or I'm just a city boy."
He head off down the road towards town, leaving the lone store behind him.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .