JMJ
CHAPTER 4: Fields and Flowers
There was something about Chaz that Guzma did not like. It was not the attire so much, though the industrial suit he wore reminded him somewhat of the Aether foundation as though in some sort of rivalry. His uppity snout held up like some stiff-necked art critic from Kalos, was highly irritating, but it was more than that. It had mostly to do with how that skinny little critic seemed to look up at Guzma as though he was some pathetic excuse for a statue. Together Chaz and Jimson made a wonderfully annoying pair, and even as he thought this Guzma let out a "tch."
But Chaz did not stay long as Jimson sent the man away to the hospital.
"Don't forget Mr. Guzma's clothes," the doctor reminded him.
Chaz nodded, and hardly had he left the jeep when the good doctor climbed into the front and Guzma got in beside him.
"So what are we exactly going to do?" asked Guzma as they stepped onto the ferry, jeep and all, from Ula'ula to Melemele; he wore the long lab coat, but he did not think about it now that they were on their way.
"Well, my base is near Seaward Cave, so first we'll get there. Then we'll treat you with the antidote. We have an ultra beast captured at this moment."
Guzma glowered. "You do?"
"Yes," said the doctor, "it's part of the process. Poison must be extracted in order to be neutralized, isn't that right?"
"Yeah, so you have the antidote now?"
"Not quite," said Jimson. "Remember I was going to see you this afternoon, but my staff are working on the finishing touches as we speak. It needs to be proven safe to use, of course."
Once having landed Jimson drove his jeep through Hau'oli city eastwards. There were a couple sandwiches and a water canteen for Guzma on the way, and Jimson promised him a proper meal once they reached the base.
"Fine, just as long as Chaz brings my clothes," Guzma muttered.
"He will, he will."
Though, Guzma had to admit that he was glad he was not wearing his clothes, so that no one would immediately recognize him. He lived on Melemele, after all; though driving through the city was good, for without the X-Team Skull leader dressing as he appeared on TV citizens of Hau'oli wouldn't know him by sight. His home neighborhood was way on the west side of the island, and he was glad that they did not have to pass that way. It was not as if he was afraid anyone would try to stop him, but just the thought of someone trying annoyed him. Besides he was not in an overly talkative mood with such people. He was almost glad Dr. Jimson was not an Alolan native. That way he did not insist upon talking overly cheerful and expecting Guzma to respond the same.
They turned at the Hou'oli Outskirts up the west-lane of Route 1, and then again at the sharp-nosed needle corner away from the straighter road towards Iki Town. They were headed out to the northern edge of Kala'e Bay at which point the jeep was rolled onto a low barge-like boat and up to the mouth of Seaward Cave.
Although they had traveled in silence for some time, at this point Guzma crossed his arms and turned to Jimson with a raised brow.
"So your base in along the mouth here?"
"No it's in the cave," replied the doctor.
He spoke with nearly a shrug, but he was too stiff to let it out in more than his voice and a slight roll of his shoulders.
Guzma slumped his, and glowered harder, not especially liking how things were going, but he ignored the inner voice of concern. He wanted to be cured. He wanted it now, and a few eccentricities of a foreign doctor were not going to stop him from getting that, especially not in the form of a little voice of a concern. Though, he had to admit it he found that voice a little more keenly than he had the last time he had felt it, because that little voice remembered what happened the last time he had ignored it. For it was when he had decided to jump into the Ultra Worm Hole after Lusamine, and look where that had gotten him.
Just inside the opening of the cave, Chaz was strangely there to meet them. The only explanation for his getting there ahead of them was that he had flown over on some pokémon, but Guzma was less happy to see him than he had been to meet him as they landed just inside upon the metal dock.
Chaz calmly handed Guzma his clothes. Guzma snatched them roughly away as his due.
"So where's your lab or whatever?" demanded Guzma. "This is just a platform at the entrance of a cave. There's nothing exceptional about it. People can come through here all the time. I didn't know you could build in here. Where'd you get the permission for that? Yo, you listening to me or what, doc?"
Neither Jimson nor Chaz seemed to be listening at all as they walked up against the cave wall and Chaz reached under a ledge as though he had hidden a few coins there. Guzma marched his way over to them losing his temper, but he had no chance to say anymore when he found what Chaz had been looking for had been a door handle.
Well, not so much a handle as a button or lever of some sort. He still could not see it, but he saw the result of it and it staggered as he looked up to see the very cave wall moving to one side.
"What the—"
A dimly lit hall was on the other side, and as he followed the men into the hallway, Chaz pushed something else on the inside and both the dock and the boat were sucked under the entrance to the corridor. Looking back out into the cave Guzma made a slight "Tch."
"How long's this base been here?" he asked.
"Before I came to use it," said the doctor.
"Well, I didn't know anything about it," said Guzma, and the cave wall covered the view outside as it slid back into place.
"You're not too strained by all this excitement I hope," said Jimson, checking his watch.
"It doesn't matter, doc, if you cure me now that we're here."
"Indeed," said Jimson with a sharp nod. "Chaz, lead the way, and we'll follow."
"Sir," said Chaz curtly and led the way with a strange expression that made Guzma bristle slightly and want to give him a good sock in the face too.
But he did not have to look at his face as he took the lead, the doctor next and Guzma at the rear. He glanced back briefly at the false stony wall blocking the cave, and he could not help but wonder if it was easy to get back out of this place again without one of those losers' permission. Suddenly he had a desire to have his pokémon with him, but he remembered that he had left them at Shady House.
Plumeria should've brought my pokémon to the hospital, he thought.
She had promised to get them for him during her visit, but she had forgotten them when they first decided to come. There had been no time for a second visit since that ultra beast had broken him out of the hospital.
The corridor led them into a wide metallic space like a great hall. The ceiling was not overly high but a couple feet above his head; though in some spots the ceiling went up into pockets with wire and tubes. The wires also ran along the ceiling into walls in some spots. Doors lined the hall on either side almost like a wing of classrooms at a university, except that there were no windows. Voices of people hummed above the hum or electric pulses, and there was the sound of some pokémon making some irritated call.
"The ultra beast?" asked Guzma, eyeing his host.
The doctor nodded, but did not speak for another moment as Chaz led them through the hall, down a short flight of broad steps and to a small door with a latch handle.
"You can go in here to get dressed and rest a little," said Jimson then as Chaz opened the door to reveal a strange but not uncomfortable dark bedroom. There was a bathroom to one side like at a nice hotel, and the bed was low but broad. The walls gleamed metallically as Chaz turned on the low but clear light.
"Where will you be?" asked Guzma.
"Checking on your antidote, Mr. Guzma," said Dr. Jimson. "In about an hour I'll get you for a decent meal, as I promised, and we'll discuss how the procedure is to be done. Meanwhile I would suggest that you take a bath and rest a little."
Guzma glanced at Chaz.
"What about him?" Guzma demanded.
"He won't be any trouble to you. He's coming with me."
Somehow that did not satisfy him, but other than a "tch" Guzma said no more and he was left to his room alone.
#
Although he had thought about leaving while Jimson and Chaz were away, Guzma found himself nonetheless at the table of that strange doctor three hours after he had last seen him. The meal admittedly tasted quite good. Steak, gravy, potatoes, beans, and rice— all top quality, and normally he was not much of a green been person, nor was he much of a vodka person either, but he thought he could almost change his mind with the stuff Jimson brought. On top of that he had felt much better after having been able to take a shower and after he had eaten he felt at least content if not refreshed.
Refreshed was still a long way off, he found as he began to yawn wearily. Although he had slept a little in the room they had provided, he felt himself nodding off even as Jimson tried to talk to him. Thoughts swam in a lazy sort of way but overpowering enough to take him away from the present. A battle with a certain little girl that he never seemed to be able to beat came hazily within his vision. As his imagined figure sneered in his squatting stance to order Golisopod to attack Snowdrop's icy ninetails he was almost falling asleep face-first into his bowl of rice when he at last heard Dr. Jimson say in a manner as though he had already repeated it several times, "Mr. Guzma."
"Hmrrph?" grunted Guzma blinking and straightening himself. "Oh, right. You gunna tell me or what, doc?"
"Well, I explained what's good for the present, if you were listening," said Dr. Jimson, "but I'm afraid you're already quite far gone. When you finish your meal you may want to get a little sleep first."
"No!" Guzma said, quite awake now. "No. Now!"
Without a word, Jimson studied him a moment as if trying to decide something. He glanced idly at his watch then and afterwards said, "I think you need to finish your meal first. Then straight afterwards we'll begin. The antidote isn't quite prepared yet."
"But you're going to explain some procedure, aren't you?" asked Guzma, but he did pause for a drink.
"Only that it requires you to be very still once we start," said Jimson. "It isn't that complicated, but it may sound a bit graphic for the table."
Guzma laughed. "I don't care about that. Besides if it's that intense of a procedure it's probably better if I don't eat a lot, right? I'm mean you know your job, but I always thought you needed an empty stomach to perform serious medical procedures."
"Oh, you won't be unconscious," said Jimson, "otherwise I wouldn't have told you that you have to be still, but if you're done eating, then follow me and we'll get started then. I was only trying to put you at ease."
"Right, let's started," said Guzma; though he had to admit that the more Jimson spoke about ease and comfort and simplicity the more Guzma felt that there was something Jimson was not telling him that he knew Guzma would not agree with.
He wanted him to just come out with it already. He was tired of the "ease the patient" game. He was no weakling. He could handle it. Unless there was something experimental about all this that not even the doctors knew about.
Maybe Chaz never even went to tell the hospital...
It was not the first time this thought crossed his mind, but only now did it feel possible. Not only did it seem possible it soon became plausible as a woman dressed much like Chaz whispered something into Jimson's ear just before they left. Jimson glanced at Guzma strangely as the woman turned to leave them, but neither Guzma nor Jimson said anything about it until they left the bright dining room and stepped into the cold dark corridor outside.
"Out with it, doc," said Guzma then.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't give me that," said Guzma. "What's going on here? What's the secret? How is this gunna work?"
Jimson cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Mr. Guzma. You're right. It's not fair to leave you in the dark any longer."
Guzma crossed his arms. "That's right, it's not."
"So here's what is going to happen," said Jimson. "We are going to take you out into the meadow."
"Meadow?"
"Melemele Meadow."
"I know where you're talking about! What do you mean in the meadow? Are the fairy pokémon from Unova gunna do some heal bell dance around me?"
"No," said Jimson, "you're going to sit there until an ultra beast shows up."
"But you said you had an ultra beast, is this some kind of joke?"
"They are attracted to you, and it's hypothesized that one has already been lurking about in the meadow just outside our cave. I know it will come. You've been in the worm hole. You've had exposure to the ultra beasts directly against you. Directly injected into your system. Even if only for a few seconds you were one with the ultra beast just as Lusamine. In this world they are confused and the scents you carry from the alternate dimension are infused inside of you. You bring them familiarities of home, but of course the whys are just theories. Heh."
It was the smile that broke the dumbfounded spell that had befallen Guzma as the doctor spoke. That smile that spread over that mad scientist's face as he finished was just the last straw. Quite abruptly Guzma lunged forward and grabbed Jimson by the shoulders and rammed him into the nearby wall next to the dining room door.
"You squealie little freak! You brought me all the way here to catch a stupid ultra beast!" snarled Guzma. "I should just—!"
"Shut up and be still," said a gruff voice behind him.
But before he could turn around a sound of a whip swung towards him and two very strong green ropes wrapped him as tight as a fly in a web. It was a pokémon's vine-whip though he could not see which one.
Breathing heavily for a moment, the doctor recovered himself and straightened his collar and lab coat as Guzma continued to struggle.
"Now, now," said the doctor dryly, "although you have a right to be concerned, struggling will only wear you to your death like a pokémon that's run out of enough energy to fight with any useful attack."
"Who do you think you are?!" Guzma snapped in return, "you can't do this to me!"
"Yes, I know, you're Big Bad Guzma," said Jimson, "the hated boss of the infamous Team Skull. Infamous for being a pathetic display of a team. A miserable joke. Pawns to a foolish madwoman."
The rage that flared up inside of him inhibited Guzma's very ability to speak, or maybe he was just too tired by this point to fight. He felt so weak and helpless. Even if had not been tied up, he was not sure he would have been able to overpower Jimson long enough to escape, especially as his workers seemed to come out of the woodwork all around him. He fell to his knees and shook with anger and clenched his fists which were held at the wrists to his sides.
"You have no idea what a team truly means. This facility was once a secret base for the ever-groping fingers of Team Rocket back in their imperial prime long ago. Crime syndicate. Perhaps you've heard of them? Perhaps they were your inspiration. I admire that. Really I do."
"You're from Team Rocket?" grumbled Guzma.
"No," said Jimson, "but I fought them once. I used to work as a scientist for Team Plasma. Now there was a team that was no joke. There were certain complicated matters that made it practical to leave, but I learned all I needed to know. All teams are much too flashy to go on without being rooted up, but Team Skull is almost more pathetic than the rival Teams Magma and Aqua, and its leader is the stupidest one to date. Some administrators in other teams are more of a threat than you. Just some punk kid. Had it disbanded because you were afraid of a few island policemen and had to go crying home to your mother."
"Shut up!" Guzma shouted, but his voice cracked. He was so worn out, and his passions were making it worse.
"Come, let's get this X-Team Skull boss to the meadow before he explodes and kills himself," said Jimson.
His followers obeyed. The pokémon, a victreebell, a species mostly unknown in Alola, brought Guzma along with them through Seaward Cave around the deep pools and amongst the dripping and echoing in the darkness. The way was lit by a single lantern, and there was no one else in the cave that he could see. Nevertheless Guzma tried to yell out, but he was quickly gagged. When they emerged in Melemele Meadow the first of the stars were just peaking out overhead. A light breeze blew to meet them, which might have been refreshing if it had not been for the situation.
They had already bound Guzma in ropes by now, and as they dragged him across the ground, he made this as difficult as possible for them. Shifting and struggling at just the right moments to make at least one trip up over the shifting mounds hidden beneath the sleeping flowers, but it was no use in the end. They tightly tied him with his back against a tree of gently blowing leaves, and as the last of the day's light disappeared over the cliffs and all the stars lit up brightly overhead, they waited out of sight.
Nothing happened. Some petilil moving about were the most exciting thing in the whole meadow for quite some time until a couple of Jimson's men dressed as policemen gently convinced a trainer out for a night catching was told that police business was being conducted there. After he left, still the party waited. In time Guzma could not keep his eyes open; though he meant to stay awake until he could escape.
He was too weary. It was a weariness that could be felt to the very core of his body and mind. The poison of the ultra beast as Jimson had said? Guzma did not know, but he was asleep before he knew it. Though, admittedly he was not alone. The peaceful quiet of the night meadow had most everyone nodding at least once. Even Dr. Jimson himself was asleep by the time dawn crept over the meadow, and still nothing had happened.
Then suddenly Guzma was awake. From a dreamless sleep he opened his eyes to the dawn making the yellow flowers look golden. Oricorio sang their morning songs and the breeze was so gentle it barely tickled the ends of his hair. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first, and the only thing that he could think of that might have woken him might have been the passing of a butterfree or a cutiefly flying by, but that was when he noticed something else. There were no butterfree or cutiefly or even a cottonee about in the meadow. Although the oriocorio could be heard they could not be seen either, and they did not exactly sound like happy birds greeting the day.
There was a tone of urgency. Some of Jimson's men noticed it too and woke up rather befuddled. Then the oricorio went silent.
The meadow seemed to hold its breath a moment. Guzma could hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest as though the whole meadow could hear it.
I'm not afraid, he thought.
But he was. He began to feel himself tremble a little. He was so bound he could not even cry out. An ultra beast would have him in a second, and he knew that was what had to be coming. That was when the wind picked up.
Even before it appeared Guzma had his eyes shut, but he heard it. A buzz like a beedril on loudspeakers filled the air. It was almost like the sound of a whiny helicopter. Shouts came from the people around him. Jimson woke just then with such a start that he might have fallen flat on his face even without the wind and the deep droning of the ultra beast.
"Catch it! Catch it!" he cried.
Pokéballs flew, and pokémon appeared, but Guzma already knew that the ultra beast would pay none of them any attention. The buzzing did not grow any louder or closer, and at last Guzma dared to open his eyes. It was a bug, he guessed, but that was about it. It looked like it had the strength of an eighties action figure in the flesh. Its chest looked to be enough to knock down whole buildings behind the plating of its exoskeleton, and along its face as a long mosquito-like nozzle, and the whole body gleamed, a ruby shell in the first peaking of sunlight over the rocky bowl around the meadow. It was like being thrust into a coliseum and tied to a stake for a hungry beast to attack at will.