Chapter 2

The line was long, stretching kilometers. There were only two entrances leading in and out of the town and both entrances were heavily regulated. A four meter cinderblock fence encased the isolated community on three sides while the sea closed out the fourth. The ports there too were regulated, more guarded than the checkpoints themselves.

People shifted on one foot to the other, others bounced on their knees. The waiting period was said to be six hours around midday. The entry process takes somewhere around five minutes for Unova citizens, while outsiders take around twenty. When you first stepped up to the gate, you were asked to scan your Pokédex. Next you must declare how many Pokémon you have on your person. Six was the official limit for people. If you have one or more Pokémon over that limit, you would be instantly turned away. On the third step, your fingerprints would be scanned and a DNA sample taken from you and your Pokémon. Once that was processed, they would finally stick a GPS locator on your ankle for your "safety's sake" before you were finally released into the town.

Those who have went through the process would tell you that you would last two weeks before the local authorities nab you for the most absurd charges, if you try to return you would be arrested on the spot for trespassing. The Unova Regional Police often helped those people with a Get-Out-of-Jail free card. That in turn led to some people disappearing under "unusual circumstances." The city's government was corrupt, rotten.

"Next," the inspector called out as the last pedestrian passed.

. . .

Finally, Mark thought. My turn.

His shiny-sprite Emolga sat perched on his shoulder, clutching his shirt tightly. As Mark approached the counter, a woman with blond hair sat behind the booth, waiting for him. "Scan your Pokédex, sir," she calmly replied.

Mark held up his left arm, strapped to his wrist was a communicator. It had a widescreen with a single button and locking switch. It had a scanner on the bottom and a light in the side. His Pokédex was technically one of the most advanced in the world, and it was only manufactured and sold on Faraday Island. Mark unlocked the Pokédex touchscreen and pressed a few icons he pulled up the code feature. He held it underneath the scanner, the scanner flashed yellow for a few seconds before green-lighting.

The inspector went through his information on the computer. "You were born in Faraday City, correct?"

"Yes," he calmly say.

Faraday City was part of Faraday Island, which officially was a providence of Unova. Therefore, Mark was a Unova citizen and the entry processing time had decreased dramatically.

But he would never get that far.

"How many Pokémon you have?"

"Four."

"Show me."

Mark reached into his pockets and pulled out three more Poké balls. He tossed them, three white beams arched onto the ground and three Pokémon materialized. A Plusle and Minun stood side by side, and a Pikachu sat behind them. Mark scooped them up and propped them on the counter, then sat Emolga among them.

His four Pokémon said nothing. They glanced at each other, their eyes both curious and afraid.

The inspector went through the information. "What are their genders?"

"All female," Mark replied.

"Were they bred in captivity or caught in the wild?"

"The Emolga and both Cheering Pokémon were born in captivity, the Pikachu was caught in the wild."

The inspector scrolled down in the information, "Hmm."

Mark raised an eyebrow, "Something wrong."

The inspector turned to Mark, "Where exactly did you capture your Pikachu?"

Mark's Pikachu froze.

"In a forest, near some railroad tracks. Why?"

"I think there may be a problem."

Mark raised an eyebrow, "How come?"

The inspector scrolled through the information again, "It says here your Pikachu was caught in Unova, yet the Mouse Pokémon is only found in Kanto and Sinnoh, and those regions are nowhere near Unova."

Mark felt a drop of sweat trail down his neck, "Surely someone might have introduced some Pikachus into Unova."

"Could be," said the inspector. "We can clear this up doing a DNA test."

"And how long would that take."

"Just a second."

The inspector pulled out a biometric scanner, it was around the size of a portable defibulator with fancy sky-blue and silver plating. Pikachu blinked and stared at the bio-scanner with curiosity, as if she was familiar with the device. "May I see your hand, Pikachu?" she asked, her tone stanch and blunt.

Pikachu stuck her arm out, the inspector seized it and slapped it on the scanning pad. There was a click and Pikachu yelped, she quickly withdrew her hand and stuck it into her mouth. "Chuuu," she whined.

She held out her hand to her trainer. The palm was puffy red, seemingly burned.

Mark's temper flared, he bounced on his foot and looked around. To his right he could see the ocean, the crystal blue he traveled just to get to the mainland. Looking closely, he could see that the land dropped suddenly into the ocean. Not a natural smooth edge, but a sudden drop. A sheer wall, Mark guesstimated it was at least two hundred meters down.

"Okay," said the inspector. "Here we go. It says here she had grandparents, both on her mother and father's side, who had escaped from a derailed train thirty years back. That isn't far from here."

Mark said nothing.

"It also says that these Mice Pokémon were children of a single Pikachu, which seems to be a celebrity. You know of a Pikachu by the name Tesla Westinghouse?"

"Yes, I do. He was part of the family. I heard about the train derailment and I went over there to investigate. I found myself a Pikachu, who let me catch her. There was no hassle or anything."

"Chuuu," Pikachu whined again, waving her burned hand in front of Mark to get his attention.

Mark rubbed Pikachu's ears. "Are you okay, girl?"

Mark's Pikachu held out her hand, there was a pin-sized hole in the center of her palm, "There there, girl, you're going to be alright."

"Pika?" she asked.

"You'll be fine, that bio-scanner was tuned a little too high."

She pressed her head against Mark for dear comfort.

"Tesla was there," he went on. "He oversaw the whole capture process."

"What did he say about it?" the inspector asked.

"He said I sucked at it."

"Okay," said the inspector, she made a few clicks on her computer. "That explains everything."

Mark's Pikachu breathed a sigh of relief, he patted her on the head and went back to rubbing her ears. He had dodged that major hurdle. Just how did they figure out where he first received each of his Pokémon? Had they scanned the intensity of their Poké ball's beams? No, Emolga was already out, and her Poké ball was at home. Mark couldn't see any other electronic besides the camera mounted on the ceiling, staring directly at him. Oh well, he could figure everything out later. He was almost done. Soon they'll let him through and he would be on his way.

And then the inspector asked, "You have any weapons to declare?"

Mark froze. Technically he had a .22 Ruger tucked away in his backpack, along with a suppressor. Not only was the suppressor illegal and unregistered, his conceal-carrying permit wouldn't do him much good in mainland Unova. If the authorities find that out, he is f*cked.

But there was no need of a permit when carrying a knife.

"I have this pocketknife," he said, he pulled it out and sat it on the counter. It had a black carbon fiber handle with a comfortable grip. The inspector extended the blade, it stuck out roughly 10 centimeters

The inspector shot a look at Mark, "Sir, the legal limit for carrying a pocketknife is seven centimeters. This extends 10 centimeters."

He smartly remarked, "If it's illegal, then why do they sell it?"

"Cause you purchased it where it isn't illegal, and I bet a hundred Pokédollars you're carrying a concealed firearm on you with something else illegal."

Mark whipped out his wallet and pulled out two 50 Pokédollar bills, he sat them on the counter without saying a word. He realized what he had just done and blurted out with semi-humor. "Sh*t."

The inspector folded up the knife and stuck it in a drawer. "Sir, you are under arrest."

Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a flash-bang grenade, he pulled the pin and dropped it on the ground.

The inspector shot out of her chair and dove to the ground. "SECURITY!"

Mark scooped up his Pokémon and made a bee-line for the cliff. The people behind them saw the flash-bang and scattered back.

The flash-bang went off, turning the world white with a heavy ringing noise. Mark staggered on his feet. He grunted, blinking hard to get his vision back.

He could make out the cliff's edge, it wasn't that far now. Mark held his Pokémon to his chest, all four were screaming in terror.

"Hang on guys!" Mark cried.

Mark vaulted over the cliff, then realized his stupidity big time when he saw huge boulders mingling with the waves.

"Oh, sh*t!"

Emolga slipped through his arms and bailed. She extended her arms and legs and glided for safety, Mark held onto his three remaining Pokémon for dear life. The ocean was coming in fast, Mark bent his knees and held his breath.

The world exploded into black as he plowed into the ocean below.

. . .

The old Mouse Pokémon at the other checkpoint wasn't having much luck either, he sat on the counter and watched as the inspector went over his information on the computer.

"You must have a trainer accompany you when you enter Soho," he said. "And you must be kept in a Poké ball when outdoors."

"For what reason?" Tesla spoke with human words.

"The measures were put in place by the City Council to stem the tide of terrorist attacks caused by rogue Pokémon. No Pokémon must be left unintended. Any Pokémon caught out of their Poké ball within the town limits will be taken into custody, if no trainer claims that Pokémon after 72 hours that Pokémon will be euthanized for the common good. Do I make myself clear?"

Tesla wasn't stupid. He would spend all day arguing his rights and pull up a discussion on how effective the laws were in handling terrorists. But he didn't wanna press the issue any further. There were other people waiting behind him, the line stretching who knew how far. The old Pikachu stood up on his hind legs and nodded. "Sorry for wasting your time."

"Move along, please," the inspector grunted. Then he looked passed his shoulder, "Next!"

The old Pikachu jumped off the counter and walked away. He passed by several people in line, their eyes rolling over him as he headed back the way he came.

Second-class citizens, Tesla thought. Here we go again.

Tesla walked up to a bench and sat down, he needed a moment to rest. He'd just spent two hours waiting in line. His legs were sore. The old Pikachu had no energy left in him to stand any longer.

He sighed, he adjusted his eye-goggles and stretched out across the bench. Tesla closed his eyes and yawned, then dosed off.

Throughout Tesla's long life, he had seen his fair share of civil rights abuse. The past was no different from the present. Pokémon were expected to be obedient to their trainers, not to roam around a town on their own accord. They were kept tucked away in Poké balls, fed the same food almost every day, and trained to battle other Pokémon for the sport and prestige of their handlers. Tesla had spent several decades of his life with the concept. Though his trainer treated him far better than any trainer he knew, Tesla could still feel the harsh reality of the world bearing down on his head.

And now, after two decades of freedom, he felt he hadn't gotten anywhere with his life. He was still reeling from the loss of his great-great granddaughter, and whatever minor accomplishment he'd done so far hadn't felt as rewarding as it should be. The old Pikachu was tired, drained, he could barely hold a charge anymore.

The old Pikachu sat up and looked out among the crowd. A few folks were staring at him, seemingly curious of him. Tesla looked on with cold tired eyes, then turned away. He doesn't feel like talking, there was nothing to say.

Should I really pursue this further?

Technically speaking, there was no legal way to get into Soho, and even if he got in, he would be arrested for simply crossing the street. There had to be a better alternative.

Tesla got off the bench and walked casually on all fours toward the woods. Once he was out of sight of the humans, he broke into a run. His aging body may be failing him but his will was still iron-solid. Tesla dashed through the woods, keeping an eye on where the forest began and end. After covering some distance, he popped out of the woods to get his bearings.

There was at least some 50 to 60 meters of clearing from the cinderblock wall, just an empty plot of carefully trimmed grass. Beyond that wall was a human settlement, a community who valued security and safety. This town's only significance was that of being a highly prosperous port, whatever funding Soho earned from the sea trade went into personal protection. Tesla scanned the wall a second time, and saw that there wasn't even a crack in it.

Not only did they built it, he thought. But they keep it so well-maintained that it looked like it was built yesterday.

The inspector said the town was protecting itself against the PRA, but what was the PRA? The closer he seemed to get to Soho, the more the acronym cropped up. He had thought about asking, but he got a feeling that may not be such a good idea. There was something about the PRA that was giving Pokémon and humans alike grief in Soho, but what?

Tesla disappeared back into the woods. If the wall was constantly maintained, then there wouldn't be a hole or a crevice he would squeeze through. All minor chips were patched the moment they happen.

So if I can't get through the wall itself, then I might have to find something that can.

. . .

Around the same time when Tesla was turned away, Mark was struggling to keep his head above the water. He clutched his Pokémon with one arm, and using whatever strength he had to keep their heads up with the other. They whimpered and cried, screaming his name in their language. He looked frantically around for Emolga, but there was nothing but navy-blue water and the offending rocky cliff-face. Mark felt his heart sink, wherever Emolga was she had to fend for herself. Right now he must get his remaining Pokémon and himself out of the water before the cops come to collect them.

"Get on my back and hang on!" he ordered his Pokémon.

Mark let go of his Pokémon, the Cheering Pokémon duo and Mouse Pokémon swam around and climbed onto Mark's back. Once he was sure they were on, he puffed his chest and kicked his legs. Having spent a quarter of his life in military school, he was well-equipped for this kind of scenario. His diving instructor, Lieutenant Browns, was one heck of a swimmer. He constantly whipped Mark and his squad buddies into learning the front strokes, the back strokes, the diving methods, emergency escape, ocean survival. The training took three weeks. Grueling as it was, Mark loved it. Which was not a surprise, since he was born and raised around thousands of clicks of ocean.

And now that very same ocean was putting that training to the ultimate test.

With his Pokémon hanging tight to his backpack, Mark swam hard and fast. The waves constantly overlap him, trying to push him into the rocks. Mark steered clear, but it already proved to be a losing battle. One wave rocked him up and shoved him straight for a boulder. He slammed chest first into the rock, Mark grunted, he wrapped his arms around the boulder and hanged on for a few seconds.

Ow.

He struggled to climb up on the boulder for some breathing room, but another wave smashed against his rear. Mark fell back into the water, somersaulting twice before remerging.

"Guys, you okay!?" Mark cried.

"Plu!" cried Plusle.

"Min!" cried Minum.

"CHUU CHUU!" his Pikachu screamed.

Mark turned back and saw his Pikachu being carried away from the currents. He lurched forward and grabbed his Pikachu by the tail, the Mouse Pokémon sobbed as he pulled her in. "You okay?" Mark asked as he cradled her in an arm.

Pikachu nodded. "Pika!"

Pikachu climbed back onto his back and Mark resumed swimming. This time he swam for the cliff-face. Mark relaxed, he must work with the waves, not against it.

He timed himself carefully. When the next wave rolled over him, Mark jumped hard, swimming in a fast sprint towards the wall. He covered a lot of water in the first few seconds, then slowed as the wave lost power. The next wave came in, Mark picked up the pace. The cliff-face got closer. Finally Mark reached the rock wall, he grabbed onto the cliff-face with both hands. Another wave blast against him, pinning him to the wall, "Hang on, guys, we're almost out!"

Mark climbed along the cliff-face. His hands dug into the rock, the ocean constantly bombarding him with its merciless power. The cliff-face was slippery and there were few hand holds, so Mark pressed his feet against the cliff-face and used the ocean to help him stay on. His Pokémon climbed up to his neck, grabbing onto his backpack and hair. They cried and sobbed, begging him for mercy.

"Just a little farther now!"

His progress was somewhere around a snail's pace, the cliff-face was so vast that it might take hours to reach a beach or a dock. Mark didn't have hours, the ocean was draining his strength. Even if Mother Nature doesn't carry him off, the Unova Coast Guard will, and they'll have the Soho authorities right behind them.

Mark clung to a boulder and rested again, his arms were straining at the seams and his lungs were burning. He must go on, his Pokémon were relying on him. Just when he was about to continue, he heard the buzz of a motor. Mark turned, his eye bulged. A red and white speedboat drove around the corner, the words, UNOVA COAST GUARD, wasconveniently labeled on each side. The emergency light was flashing and the sirens blaring."Hold it right there!" screamed a voice on the intercom.

"Hold your breath, guys!" Mark cried.

He jumped back into the water and dove straight down, his Pokémon cling to him for dear life as he swam towards the ocean floor. This is stupid, he thought, How did I get myself into this mess!?

His concentration of thought broke when he got scooped up into a current. Mark's lungs almost exploded when he started tumbling, he felt his Pokémon rip away from him. He looked up and saw of the surface was the silhouette of the speedboat, its propeller churning bubbles as it cruised over him. His Pokémon spun in circles around him, their cheeks puffed up with air.

As Mark reached out for them, the current blast them toward the cliff-face. Mark turned, before him was a gaping maw the size of a city bus. The maw sucked him and his Pokémon in like a large water monster, they went in so fast that there was no time to scream.

Everything went black.

The currents rocked Mark as he tumbled further into the abyss. He smashed against more rocks, Mark covered his head as he spun around in the vicious vortex. His chest burned, he couldn't hold his breath for long.

Oh sh*t, he thought. I'm going to drown in this f*cking underwater cave and so will Pikachu and my Cheering Pokémon! Emolga's going to be all alone, heartbroken. F*ck, I wouldn't even get to say-

The current had slowed. Mark's eyes popped open, he looked up and saw ripples bending and twisting faint light from above. He spat out foul air and swam frantically for the surface, using up whatever energy he had left. His head broke the surface and sucked in humid air. It was a cavern, a pretty large one too. Stalactites towered over Mark, their tips fined to a point. The cavern glowed with a blue-green nightlight atmosphere. It was humid and cold, but it was better than nothing.

"What a relief!" he told himself.

A second later, Pikachu's head broke the surface. Then Plusle, then Minum. They gasped in fresh air, then cried. Their sobs echoed madly off the cavern walls. Mark grabbed his ears and moaned, "Guys, shush! The cops might hear us!"

His three Pokémon with silent, when the last of their echoes ceased Mark swam towards them and scooped them up. They were beat, they just floated in the water instead of swimming for shore. Mark swam for the rock ledge and hoisted them over, then climbed out of the water.

Pikachu began coughing, spitting out seawater while trying to breathe. Mark patted her on the back, she licked his hand in return. "Is everyone okay?" he whispered.

"Plu," Plusle nodded.

"Min," so did Minun.

"What about you, Pikachu?"

Pikachu nodded, "Pi."

Mark scooped up his Pokémon and stood up. His legs were rubbery, numbed by the cold. Mark stumbled and slammed his bicep into a large stalagmite, his Pokémon nearly slipping out of his arms.

"Pika?" his Pikachu asked worriedly.

"I'm okay," he said. "We just need to get into the sun."

Mark switched on the flashlight on his wrist-bound Pokédex, the tiny flashlight beam lit up the cave like a supernova.

Thank Arceus it's waterproof.

He walked through the cave, passing more million year old stalagmite and stalactite formations. Mark's Pokémon shivered in his arms, his body heat alone won't warm them up. He picked up the pace, keeping a lookout for sudden drops and loose rocks. Mark imagined what the cops were doing around the cliff-face, probably getting out Swoobats to search the damn place. If they know about the cave, then there wasn't much time till they find him and his Pokémon.

I wonder if they got Emolga.

That last thought sent a shiver down his spine.

Mark stopped for a moment to rest, he sat down and let his Pokémon slipped into his lap. He turned on the Pokédex's GPS. The words, NO SIGNAL, flashed across the screen in red bolded letters.

"How far down are we?" Mark thought aloud.

He killed the screen and held up the flashlight, revealing more of the cavern's mineral features. Mark shook his head and scooped up his Pokémon, then resumed course.

His Pikachu climbed up his shirt and settled on his shoulder. She softly whined as her body shivered, "Chu," she murmured under her breath.

"I'm sorry, guys," said Mark, "For getting you three into this mess."

"Pika Pi," Pikachu padded his head, she pressed her forehead against his cheek, "Pikachu."

"I hope Emolga's alright, she must be worried sick by now."

Up ahead, Mark could make out what looked like faint sunlight. He lowered the flashlight and stepped closer.

The sounds of the coastline sounded crystal-clear. Mark jogged up, his hopes running high.

He was greeted by bright sunlight, its warmth felt ever so pleasant. Mark stepped out of the cave and found himself staring out over the beach. To his right was the ocean, his left Soho, and up ahead was the concrete docks about four kilometers away. The town was small, yet there was so much space. Mark stepped around the sand and slumped into the grass, dumping his Pokémon beside him. "We're in," he said. "We're in Soho."

"Pika," Pikachu chirped.

"Plu," Plusle chirped.

"Min," Minun muttered.

Mark took a moment to relish in the sun, just when he was about to dose off he heard a soft squeak above him. He looked up, a faint silhouette of the Sky Squirrel Pokémon soared over head. It was coming down, fast.

"Emolga!" Mark cried.

He held out his arms, Emolga crashed right into his chest. Mark crashed into the ground and laughed as he and Emolga hugged each other tightly, his other Pokémon sat up and cheered. "Emo!" Emolga sobbed.

"Emolga," said Mark, "It's alright, it isn't your fault or anything. That stunt you did was a smart move, it would've made things harder for us trying to get to shore. I'm glad you're alright."

Emolga smiled with pride, "Em!"

Mark fished out his Poké balls and aimed them towards Pikachu and the Cheering Pokémon duo, "Return, guys!"

Three red beams shot at their respective Pokémon and absorbed them back into their Poké ball. Mark shrunk and pocketed them, then turned to Emolga. "Okay, girl. I need you to hide in my backpack. This is Soho, we would get in trouble if they see you."

"Emo?" Emolga asked.

"I don't know why, just stay hidden until I could find my former squad mate. He's the only person we can trust."

Emolga nodded, then climbed into Mark's backpack. It was soaking wet from the currents, but she didn't seem to mind. Mark started towards Soho, dreading what was waiting for him beyond.

TO BE CONTINUED…