Chapter 6
Lance the Dragon Master always played by the rules, but tonight was an exception. He would sooner lie dead than see Team Rocket controlling that monster again. The Rockets were not getting it back. Not for anything. Not even for the Pokemon Master's fiancée.
In the Rockets last correspondence they had outlined strict rules for the swapping of Misty Waterflower for the Pokemon. Lance decided that some rules were made to be broken.
The Rockets had specifically demanded that Ash and Lance meet them alone in the Pewter City old stone quarry.
Fine.
Lance and Ash were both, currently, all alone in the middle of the quarry.
The Rockets had also demanded that they turn over aMaster Ball with their Pokemon inside. This is where the rules were going to be amended. Ash was presently carrying a very exact copy of a Master Ball in his coat pocket, and that ball had a very talented Ditto inside. A Ditto which Lance had spent hours training to become a perfect copy of Team Rocket's Pokemon.
Lance used a precise method to train the Ditto. He had begun by showing Ditto some film footage of the monster. Ditto had watched nearly a dozen news recordings of the creature destroying Goldenrod City — the horrific historical event when the Rockets chose to debut their beast. The graphic events on the recordings reminded them all why this monster could never be set free, why Team Rocket had to be stopped. At any cost.
Ditto was wholly disturbed by the visuals and took its job seriously. Ditto had memorized the physical characteristics as well as the movements of the creature. Next Lance brought in an array of high level psychic Pokemon. The Ditto was able to quickly learn and copy several basic psychic attacks. After many hours the Ditto was able to hold the physical appearance of the creature, levitate and create psychic beams. Ideally, Lance would have preferred a few more hours to train, but unfortunately, this would have to be enough. Lance just prayed that Team Rocket would buy their charade long enough for them to snatch Misty back.
This plan was incredibly risky to say the least. Lance and Ash were not dealing with idiot Rocket grunts. No doubt the Rocket Elites would be handling this case personally. However, this plan was the only chance Misty had. If it failed then she would be a sitting Psyduck in their hands. Naturally Lance had a plan B, but that didn't guarantee Misty would still be alive long enough for them to execute it.
The noble Dragon Master sighed. His heart ached with sympathy for Ash. The young Pokemon Master was like a brother to him and, on some level, Lance felt responsible for this dreadful situation. After all, it was Lance who had mentored Ash while becoming Pokemon Master, even fully knowing the risks involved. Becoming the Pokemon Master meant becoming responsible for protecting the monster from the Rockets.
Lance had always known the potential hazard this meant for Ash and his loved-ones. Lance wanted to set everything right again and, he was determined to exhaust all options in order to do so. He HAD to rescue Misty. And, once this situation was resolved, Lance would personally hire the best bodyguards in the country for her. Preferably there would be no future threats to her life, but the preference was not realistic. As long as Misty's was in Ash's life she would be a target for the Rockets.
Lance wanted to apprehend all of the Rockets responsible for Misty's kidnapping and let the law punish them properly. Unfortunately, it was impossible to identify them. They all wore masks in public and never left any tracks, never as much as a fingerprint.
Lance felt nauseous as he recalled Team Rocket's video threat . . .poor Misty . . . he wished that he could find the bastard who was beating her. He would like to personally return the favor. Lance had sent the video to a government analyzing facility. He had hoped that they could study the video and figure out either where Misty was or the identity of her attacker. Unfortunately, the intelligence personnel knew nothing about Misty's whereabouts and reported little about her blue-haired assailant. What little information was known was unhelpful. The blue-haired Rocket was a suspect in several major crimes – as most Rockets were. Lance could have guessed as much. Also, like all Rockets, he never left any clues. All the authorities had were a few blurry pictures from various crime scenes, but he adorned a mask in each one.
Apprehending that guy – or any other Rockets for that matter— would just be icing on the cake. And icing was not the focus of tonight. Tonight was all about getting Misty back.
Lance examined his surroundings, it was darker than Umbreon flesh outside. The sky was thick with clouds which completely shaded the moons light. A touch of starlight did manage to seep through, however this provided sparse illumination. Lance squinted against the night, taking note of the enormous old stone piles around them. Lance wouldn't be surprised if a giant Onix suddenly emerged and made them both jump. Just the though of being startled in this darkness, even by a well-meaning Pokemon, added to the angst of the situation. He and Ash were surrounded by a good dozen rock mounds, each towering nearly ten yards up. In its day this was a very profitable quarry, but all good things eventually came to an end.
Lance turned to his companion, he was barely able to recognize Ash's dark shape by his side. Ash fidgeted like a nervous baby Snubbull. The reining Master anxiously picked up loose stones and pitched them into the blackness. Lance knew that Ash wanted nothing more than to surrender the Rocket's Pokemon and get Misty back. But Ash understood his duty and he was sticking to it like a true Master. Lance was proud.
The Dragon Master's eyes were starting to sting; they weren't use to straining for so long. He did have a flashlight, but he wanted to keep it off until the Rockets came. There was no use wasting the light until then. For now he would simply keep a discreet look out.
Ash shifted fretfully and faced him. "Lance?" he whispered.
"Mm?"
"It's gotta be pushing midnight. Where are they? I have a bad feeling."
"They'll be here." Lance answered sharply. He knew his words held no fact – and Ash probably knew that too — but he nodded, trusting him anyway. "Just wait a bit more."
"I'd wait forever for her."
"I know you would, Ash."
"How touching! Makes me wanna gag!"
Lance froze. Those obnoxiously loud words came from neither himself or Ash.
Lance clicked on his flashlight.
It was showtime.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0 0o0o0o0o0o0 0o0o0o0o0o0o0
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the studly and unbelievably irritating, Dragon Master Lance!" Glare strut across the quarry like a model down a runway. She stopped in front of the Dragon Master and spotlighted him beneath her wrist light. "Is asking for an autograph too much?" She giggled, batting her lashes.
The Dragon Master raised his arm, shielding his sight from her blinding assault. The Pokemon Master was at his side.
The great Arcanine and his wannabe Growlithe pup. Blah.
Glare knew which one of them was really calling the shots.
Looks like our handsome Arcanine needs a major Hydro Pump. He needs to go. As long as he's whispering the rules into Ketchum's ear the kid will never bend to our will. Glare glanced back to her teammates, Remington and N.K. She rolled her eyes, but of course her teammates couldn't see that with her Rocket mask on.
Remington (or "Remi" off the clock) knew her very well. He nodded as though seeing through her mask. Remington agreed with her, that Dragon Master was a roadblock. Glare turned her attention to Ketchum. He obviously hadn't slept or shaved since they snagged his lady love. The Pokemon Master had dark stubble lining his jaw and dark circles beneath his eyes. Glare couldn't decide if it was gross or kinda cute.
"I know you." The Dragon Master stated cooly.
How interesting.
Apparently he remembered her, or rather he recalled her undercover operation to threaten his life a few years back. Glare frowned. She had hoped the Dragon Master wouldn't recognize her with her mask on. She had really failed the boss with that assignment. Glare was supposed to play her 'damsel in distress' trick. It should have been easy. Woo him, seduce him and then make him beg for his life! Make Lance hand her that precious Pokemon on a dammed silver platter. Then she would have throttled him with a smile on her face. But the Dragon Master barely made into the 'wooing stage' before he sniffed her out. She actually had to engage THE Dragon Master in a Pokemon battle in order to — just barely — escape. Thankfully the Boss did not de-rank her over it. The Boss was a reasonable man and understood that Glare could not best the Dragon Master when it came to Pokemon. But still: the humiliation of facing her Boss, as a failure, haunted her. Glare had fantasized about the opportunity to settle her unfinished business with Lance. Crushing the Dragon Master now would really impress her Boss. It would be a little retirement gift. In fact, it might be all she needed to seal the deal for her as new Rocket leader.
"Hiya, Master duo!" Glare smiled brightly at them both, not acknowledging Lance's recognition. "How about we skip any further pleasantries and get down to business, okay?"
Ketchum stepped toward her, she noticed a Master Ballin his hand and he was noticeably sweating. Glare raised an eyebrow beneath her mask. Was he really this nervous under stress or was he hiding something? Gawd, for his sake she hoped for the ladder. The kid might kick some serious ass with Pokemon, but he'd suck as Rocket. Too soft.
Remington moved protectively between Ketchum and Glare. "Not too close, Master. I'll take that." Remington snatched the Master Ball from Ketchum's hand.
"Hey!" Ketchum protested, obviously not ready to hand it over. The boy Master continued to sweat. However, Glare noticed that the Dragon Master was unflinching, unblinking . . . just as he had been when she'd battled him those years ago. The memory instantly annoyed her. The Dragon Master was – seemingly— impossible to unnerve. He reminded her of Shard, and that was dangerously irritating. She would soooo love to finish him off.
The Boss would be so proud of me! He would probably buy me flowers, or maybe even a new gun. Shard never even got a new gun!
Remington tossed the Master Ball in the air like a toy. The Dragon Master cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving the ball. "Okay, you have what you came for. We'll take Misty now and be on our way."
Remington cracked a wicked grin. "All in good time, Dragon Master."
"What do you mean?" Ketchum snapped, fits balling. "Where is Misty?"
Glare chuckled, circling the Masters like a scavenging Fearow. "C'mon, you guys, you didn't think we'd trade the carrot-top that easily did ya? We gotta know for sure that our sweet 'lil Pokemon is, in fact, present within this ball. Obvi! As much as I'd love to trust a handsome Master pair like yourselves, I must know that this isn't just an empty Master Ball."
The Dragon Master's jaw tightened now. Glare pursed her lips, intrigued. "Fine," he spat, "open the ball."
Remington chucked the ball to N.K. who, even in the dark, caught it like a professional baseball player. N.K. took a DNA scanner from his pocket and held it over the Master Ball.
"What is that?" Ketchum asked quickly.
"Oh, nothin' much." Glare winked, deciding that Ketchum was cute all nervous like this, too bad he was wasted on that red-headed loser. "It's just a 'lil DNA scan."
The Dragon Master only stiffened, but Ketchum . . . he looked like he'd just endured a Granbull's Scary Face Attack! Glare shook her head. Lance should have left Ketchum at home.
N.K. turned to Glare and shook his bald head. Glare was momentarily entertained by how the older man's head reflected the starlight. N.K. reminded her of Mr. Clean . . . only, permanently scowling and in a Rocket uniform. Remington walked to N.K. and peered at the scanner readings.
"Humm." Remington frowned, unimpressed. "It seems we have a Ditto in our ball."
Glare shrugged, she had expected as much and thus knew exactly what to do. She pulled a gun from her pocket and aimed it back and forth between the two masters.
"Where's Misty?" Ketchum demanded, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was holding a gun.
"She's not here." Remington said flatly. "We expected you to lie the first time, so we didn't even bother to bring her."
"WHAT!?" Ketchum cried loudly and Glare winced. He really looked like he was about to have a nervous break down or something. The kid needed a chill pill.
"Ash, relax." Came the Dragon Master.
"Tryin' to trick us Rockets, eh, boys?" Glare exhaled dramatically. "Not smart."
Glare pulled the trigger.
The Dragon Master crumpled like a paper ball and dust erupted like a smoke bomb as he hit the quarry floor.
Ketchum's eyes bulged and his jaw dropped as though his bottom teeth were made of lead! Glare found his reaction really freaky and crossed him off her cute-list.
"Yeah, yeah, I shot him, how dare I, blah, blah." Glare put her hand on her hip. "Listen up, Master boy, go home and think about what happened here tonight, okay? We're going to give you one more chance to give us OUR Pokemon and for you to get your fiancée back. ONE MORE CHANCE. After that she'll be hanging out with the Dragon Master in 'shot-by-a-gunville', got it?"
Ketchum dropped to the ground, holding Lance's limp body in his arms. The Pokemon Master peered up at her and Glare decided that he was genuinely pissed. He actually had a savage, dangerous look in his eyes . . . she put him back on the cute-list.
"I understand." Ketchum fumed, clutching his mentor.
"Great." Glare and her associates turned and began walking back to their concealed car. She hesitated for a second and looked back. "Thanks for the Ditto, hon. I've always wanted one. Don't call me, I'll call you, okay?" Glare blew him a goodnight kiss.
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Often those things we regard as certain can surprise us with their uncertainty.
Misty sat alone in her prison room, Shard's earlier words echoed in her mind like a haunted record player. She had no idea what time it was or how many hours had passed since Shard had taken her on their 'outing' of swimming and the secret laboratory.
Often those things we regard as certain can surprise us with their uncertainty . . .
Misty could almost hear Professor Oak saying those words. He use to recite that exact saying to Ash many times over their youthful adventures. As a boy Ash seemed to attract trouble and whenever he had doubts the professor could always counter them with a witty, uplifting expression. The one Shard quoted earlier was one of them.
Misty shook her head bitterly, the professor should still be alive. But he wasn't. He, like so many others, was massacred by the Rocket's Pokemon when Goldenrod and Olivine burned. This was why Ash could NOT trade her for the professor's killer. Not tonight or any night. He just couldn't. If Ash did then that bloody past was guaranteed to repeat itself. Misty could not stand for Professor Oak's sacrifice to be in vain. Even now, years after his death, she missed him. He was like the grandfather she never had. He was wise, thoughtful, caring . . . always there to lend an ear or offer helpful advice. When she was a girl she use to sometimes wish that he was her real grandfather. His own grandchildren did not appreciate him . . . the two of them were . . . disasters. . .
Misty sighed, recalling the fates of May and Gary Oak. It had been a very long time since she had thought about the Oak's. She did not know them well, but they seemed to be a cursed family. When May and Gary were children their parents died in a horrible car crash, leaving the professor to raise them. Then, when Gary was fifteen, he committed suicide. May married some alcoholic bum and was now a single mother of five. And the professor, even with his esteemed career, had died to save them all. He was a true martyr. A real hero. If he had not given Lance's Dragonite that amazing potion the beast could not have been defeated. They might all be dead now. The professor's potion was a brilliant creation, it gave Dragonite Ghost-type properties. Similar to how Shard had created a potion for Electric-type properties. Why Professor Oak had created it, no one would ever know. But the world revered him for his brilliance, his heroism. The world would always miss Professor Samuel Oak.
At least he is with his daughter and grandson in the afterlife now, Misty thought sadly. I have to think of him that way. It's the only way to make this memory bearable.
Misty shook her head as though the act would fling these thoughts from her mind. She had other concerns right now and she could not continue to mourn the past. She had to think of the present and how to save the future.
Misty knew it had to be getting late. Her eyelids felt heavy. However, she also knew that at any moment the Rockets could burst in and try to take her to Ash. Misty longed to be back in Ash's arms. Ash was familiar and predictable — she was always comfortable in his embrace. Ash was her best friend and the man she loved. Misty would do anything for him.
Anything but see that monster freed. When the Rockets came for her tonight Misty would refuse to go. Even if that meant death. Even if it meant not seeing Ash ever again. She was prepared, and she hoped that Ash would understand. She was no selfish weakling. She would make Professor Oak proud of her.
~beeeep-beeep!~
The door suddenly slid open and Misty braced herself. She was prepared to kick, scream and raise hell. Fortunately, her valor was wasted. Behind the door was Shard. He was alone. No Glare or Remington in sight.
Shard entered her chamber, moving cautiously. Every muscle in his face was tense. Despite this, he offered her a small smile.
Misty hesitated, but smiled back. Shard was dressed in a freshly pressed, pristine white Rocket uniform. Even his tactical boots seemed polished. In Shard's hand was another magazine. Misty wondered if he had been in an important meeting?
Misty stood up, meeting him at the door. "What's going on, Shard?"
"I'm not sure." He admitted, a frown stealing his features. "Glare and the others went somewhere. I planned to meet with my boss, but, he was also gone."
"Gone where?"
"I don't know." Shard confessed. Misty didn't have to be a Rocket to know that his clueless response was abnormal. She exhaled, attempting to mask her anxiety. Shard continued: "I'm going to wait here with you until everyone gets back. Just to keep you safe in case things get ugly. I'm not sure why I wasn't notified that the Boss was leaving the base. I have a—"
"-bad feeling?" Misty finished for him.
Shard only nodded, his expression Slowpoke-blank. Misty could tell he was concerned about more than he was letting on, but she asked no further questions. She reasoned that interrogating Shard would get her nowhere fast.
Shard handed her the magazine. It was another Scientific Journal with a cover feature on the Horsea.
"Thanks, but I haven't finished reading about the Sweel yet." Misty handed the Horsea journal back to him, pointing to the Sweel journal on her nightstand.
"That's okay. I think you'll enjoy this one. Please, take it. Here." He seemed rather insistent that she take his Horsea journal, therefore Misty accepted it and sat down on her bed.
She pretended to be interested in studying the pages. But what she was truly interested in studying was: Shard. She had never seen him on edge before. He always seemed as cool as the frosty shade of his hair. Right now he was leaning against the wall, right next to the door. Misty noticed that he was fingering the strap of his large gun, as though he were ready to release the weapon at any moment.
As Misty turned another random page of the journal, she felt something fall from the pages and onto her lap. It was a postcard. On the front was a photographic scene from some tropical island. It looked like a beautiful island – white sandy beaches, palm trees, sun and ocean waves — Misty's favorite destination setting in the world. The front read Ra'Tala Island. The back of the postcard was blank.
"Ra'Tala Island?" she asked, holding it up.
Shard bowed his head, not moving from the door. "I use it as a bookmark," was his nonchalant reply.
"It looks like a beautiful place," Misty began, trying to be chipper and casual. "Where is it? I've never heard of it."
"South of the Orange Islands. Ra'Tala is a small island. My family vacationed there once when I was a kid." The first 'normal person' thing to leave his lips and he delivered it like a robot. Still. . . Misty was intrigued. Shard had . . . a family?
She blinked, surprised. "Have you been back there since your childhood?"
"No, I've just had that postcard for a while. I keep it with me. I enjoyed my time in Ra'Tala. I have nice memories from there."
"Maybe you'll go back someday?" Misty hoped that he would.
"Rockets don't get vacations." His statement was blunt, but there was jest in his tone. "But in my next life, definitely." Shard placed extra-emphasis on his final word and offered her a curious smirk.
Not knowing what to make of that, Misty simply nodded. She carefully placed the postcard back into the journal page from which it fell. Shard shifted his weight and fiddled with his eye mask. Misty wished he would just take it off . . . it still unnerved her. She wanted to look into his eyes when they were speaking. The mask seemed to devalue every word he spoke. Maybe if she asked him to remove it, he would?
"Shard?"
"Miss Waterflower?"
Misty would not get the chance to make her request.
With his Jolteon-reflexes Shard drew his gun and aimed it at the door. Misty half expected him to unleash a Pin Missileattack! She bolted upward, stumbling off the bed. Adrenaline coursed through her veins like the electricity from Shard's potion!
"What's going on?"
Shard ignored her, his finger itching against the trigger.
Misty held her breath as Glare, Remington and N.K. entered the room, oblivious that Shard could potentially blow their heads off.
The Rocket trio was talking casually amongst themselves, but it took less than a second for them to realize a gun barrel threatened their lives. They bounced backward, confusion and alarm clashing on their faces.
"What in the hell!?" Remington's words were dripping with venom. He jabbed at Shard's gun with his finger. "Put that thing away."
Shard pushed Remington's hand away with the gun barrel. "I am giving the orders right now. Where were you three tonight?"
N.K. scratched his bald head and casually walked across the room, helping himself to a sip from Misty's water bottle. Apparently N.K. was no longer concerned about Shard.
Glare pranced over to Shard as though she were about to ask him to the prom. The blond was now also undisturbed by the gun. What was wrong with these people? The gun was not even near Misty and she was freaking out!
Shard moved his weapon closer to Glare's head and she only grinned. Shard and Glare faced one another as a smoldering silence encased the chamber. After a several seconds, Shard returned his gun to it's holster on his back. "Where were you?" He repeated sternly.
Glare shrugged and then reached out to playfully ruffle Shard's unruly mane of spikes. Shard ignored her annoying interest in his hair. "Well?" He snapped. Glare tucked some blue strands behind his ears; she was seemly oblivious to his question.
Remington looked about as happy as a Magmar in the North Pole. The dark haired Rocket pushed his way between them, shoving both Glare and Shard backward. "We met with Ketchum tonight." Remington sneered, grabbing Glare's arm.
The blond was giggling like a drunk. Misty flinched, struggling not to physically pound the woman who (after all) controlled her fate. Instead, Misty clenched her fists and stood upright. Her mind exploded with dreadful questions. If the Rockets went to see Ash, then why didn't they bring her? What could have happened? Was Ash alright?
"You did WHAT?" Shard seized Remington by his shirt collar and slammed him against the wall. Remington's head struck the wall with a loud thud! Misty remembered her own agony when Remington smashed her face into the car window.
Bastard, serves your right! She was disappointed that he wasn't bleeding.
"Answer me!" Shard's face was inches from Remington's own.
Shard's ever-professional facade combusted into fury. For a brief moment Misty wondered if Shard were actually going to kill Remington, right there before them all!
Shard continued his interrogation, invisible fumes billowing from every pore. "Why the hell wasn't I notified? I am IN CHARGE of this operation. I can not believe you did this behind my back!"
Remington paled slightly, he was probably debating the same thought Misty was. Cussing, Remington quickly maneuvered from Shard's grip and he shoved the blue-haired Rocket away from him. "Whatever, Shard. Chill out. You don't sign my paychecks." Remington was attempting to sound calm, but it was obvious that Shard had scared him. Sweat was dribbling down his forehead and his fingers were twitching.
Glare continued to giggle, clearly delighted by their feud. "Shardy," Glare tisked at him, "I think you've forgotten that I actually out rank you. I am the Boss's right hand, you are his left, and we both know that he's right handed."
The woman was so smug! Misty wanted to chuck a rock at her head!
Glare's obnoxious laughing progressed and Misty decided she would chuck an entire Golem instead.
N.K. had now made himself comfortable leaning against the wall. He was still across the room. The large man seemed content to let Glare, Remington and Shard verbally duke this one out.
"What happened with Ketchum?" Shard urged.
Glare finally stopped dancing around his demands and replied: "Ketchum and the Dragon Master attempted to trick us, shocking-not-shocking. They put some lame Ditto in a ball. We're giving him one more chance, hence," Glare pulled a camcorder from her pocket and smiled at Misty, "we're gonna need just one more film."
Here came Shard's Jolteon-reflexes again! He snatched the camcorder from Glare's hand before she could bat a fake eyelash. "No way." His tone did not offer debate.
Glare sighed dramatically. "Ummm, okay, Shard . . ." she faced him, lips forming a puke-worthy pout. "You know I find you to be totally delicious eye-candy and all, but, I will seriously have your face broken if you don't step down."
Shard actually laughed in her face. "Ha! Try it."
Remington must have been part Abra because he seemed to be taking psychic orders from Glare. She didn't voice a thing and her burly 'Remi' came charging at Shard, grabbing him by the shoulders and launching a fist to his face. Shard saw it coming and easily blocked the assault, instead turning the tables on Remington and throwing him to the ground.
Misty gasped, unsure whether or not she should move . . . unsure if she should try to help Shard or not?! She glanced at N.K., he was still leaning against the wall, satisfied to observe.
Remington was scowling upon the ground. Glare looked irritated. And Shard . . . he was casually brushing his hands together, a haughty grin plastered across his face.
"Loser." Shard sneered at Remington. "You punch like an Oddish. A Dunsparce coulda seen that punch coming!" Shard slammed the camera to the ground and stomped on it, crushing the device into little pieces.
Now Glare was really angry. The blond cussed like a trucker, stomped her feet and then turned to N.K. "I've had it with Shard! N.K.? Please? I need you to finish this."
N.K. stretched and exchanged glances with Remington.
Misty could feel the blood draining from her face. Fear seemed to clog her throat and she could say nothing . . . do nothing! Dread clawed at her brain, hissing in her ear, warning her that this was not going to end well for Shard.
He was out numbered, just as she had been when she was abducted. She knew that Remington and N.K. showed no mercy.
Shard did not flinch as N.K. approached him. Instead he peered up at the older man. "You wouldn't DARE lay a finger on me."
"Why?" Glare answered for N.K. "Because the Boss might punish us for harming his precious perfect Rocket? Whatever. The Boss is out of town right now." Shard stiffened . . . and unfortunately, Glare noticed. "What, Shardy, you didn't know? The Boss didn't tell you? You, his very favorite Rocket? Aww, too bad. Not so cocky now, are ya?"
When a Houndour knows it is surrounded, out numbered and doomed it bites and it claws —it goes down fighting. It never runs. This was not the first time since her abduction that Misty had privately compared Shard to that fierce Pokemon. And in this moment, Shard did not hesitate. He stepped toward his adversaries and began to redraw his gun. Only he never got the chance to.
Not surprisingly, Remington played dirty and swiftly seized Shard's gun strap, yanking him forward. Shard attempted to regain his balance – his footing – but he could not do so in time to block Remington's fist. Remington punched Shard HARD! It was as though years of pent up hostility were now being funneled into one powerful strike. Remington's fist landed directly in Shard's stomach. Shard buckled, wheezing, his knees colliding with the floor. But Remington would not allow him to fall, he snared a fistful of Shard's hair and held him up.
"Take him!" Remington growled, shoving Shard at N.K.. The larger man easily twisted Shard into a brutal arm lock. Shard winced, still struggling to catch his breath. Despite Remington's sucker punch, Shard retained the wits to expertly maneuver from N.K.'s hold. He aggressively seized the larger mans left hand, bending his fingers like pipe-cleaners. There was a sickening snap-yelp combo from N.K., equalling a few broken digits. Shard ducked one incoming blow from N.K., and blocked another, but, the third strike hit it's mark like a battering ram! N.K.'s huge right fist impacted Shard's already battered stomach. Shard went down, drooping to his knees like a K.O.'d Pokemon!
N.K. grabbed Shard's shirt collar, preventing his head from hitting the floor. Remington took immediate advantage of Shard's helplessness and proceeded to barrage him twice more with his fists, this time across the face.
Misty shook herself from her shock and assessed the horrific scene: Shard was being held up by one man while another used him as a punching bag. She could not stand by and watch Shard being brutalized. Not after he had stood up for her!
It was Misty's turn to personify the Houndour. A Houndour Raged out if its mind.
Misty charged, preparing to grab Remington by his throat, to choke him, to kick him, hell, she'd even bite the bastard if it would stop him! She HATED that man!
"Not so fast, Tootsie." Glare blocked her path like a stupid blond traffic cop. Misty was going to run her down.
"Move it!" Misty warned.
Behind Glare, Remington was nailing Shard with his boot. Blood dribbled from Shard's scalp . . . his nose. . .
"I think not!" Glare cackled. "Listen, Miss Waterflower, just go sit down and wait your turn. You have a cute fiancé. Don't risk never seeing him again for this soon-to-be dead man, okay?"
Misty clenched her jaw. She hurled consequences to the wind and floored her adrenaline.
"BITCH!" Misty smacked Glare across the face. The blond woman sank to the floor like a cheap coin down a well.
Now for Remington . . .
Misty's actions were barely her own, she was operating on some sort of Amazon Woman cruise control! She rushed at Remington! However, he had seen her take down Glare and was not happy about it. He was already turning toward Misty, no doubt to ram her with his fist.
Misty's sight quickly scoured her surroundings . . . what could she do? She was defenseless and Shard was hanging limp from N.K.'s hand. She doubted that Shard was even conscious . . . he would be unable to aid her. Misty could not reach Shard's gun, and even if she could she didn't know how to use it . . . what could she possibly. . .
THERE!
Misty dove.
She barely missed Remington's punch. Misty scrambled like mad, fingers outstretched . . .
I only need one!
Got it!
Misty seized a random Pokeball from Shard's belt and threw it.
An utterly massive Blastoise materialized before her. Misty at once recognized him from the painting hanging on Shard's laboratory wall. The Pokemon's eyes swept quickly around the room, he was assessing the present situation.
"Blastoise! Help Shard!" Misty pleaded.
Shard was dead weight in N.K.'s hand. N.K. looked back and forth between Misty and the gigantic Blastoise. He was a large man, but even he knew his physical limits. Blastoise snarled, completely enraged, steaming water jutting from his nostrils.
N.K. dropped Shard.
"Dammit!" Remington pulled Glare up off the floor. She was clutching her bleeding nose.
Blastoise seemed delighted by the Rocket's fear of him. He bucked his head, snorting, and began to charge them, clearly preparing a high level Skull Bashattack!
"Let's go, NOW!" Remington yelled. "My own Pokemon can't take this thing. It'll kill us."
Glare and N.K. didn't need to be told twice. The three Rockets rapidly clustered together and scurried out the door.
Blastoise turned to Misty now, his eyes were lit with suspicion.
Misty raised her hands defensively. "No, I'm not going to hurt Shard. I was trying to help him. That's why I released you."
Blastoise must have believed her for he focused his attention upon his trainer. The giant turtle lay a surprisingly gentle paw upon Shard's chest.
Misty rushed to Shard, he was sprawled flat on his back, blood dribbling from his nose. Blastoise gurgled at her, clearly communicating: 'help him!'
Misty swallowed hard, her mouth felt like she'd been force-fed sand. She couldn't speak, but she could think.
Misty jumped to her feet and ran to her bed. She pulled the medical kit out from underneath. She then knelt beside Shard and gently placed his head on her lap. He was unconscious, but his wounds appeared superficial. Misty knew all to well that a good blow to the stomach could knock your wits out along with your breath. She may have had no formal first aid training, but Misty had observed Shard tending to her own injuries and so she went to work.
Blastoise was kind enough to wet the washcloth so Misty could clean the blood from Shard's skin. Fortunately, his nose did not appear to be broken, but it was probably going to be sore.
As Misty worked, Blastoise watched her every move very carefully. Misty feared that if Shard so much as whimpered that his Pokemon mightWater Gun her. Blastoise was not on board with trusting her yet.
Next, Misty began removing what blood had begun to dry along Shard's ears and scalp. She brushed his bangs aside, preparing to wipe his brow when . . . she noticed something . . . curious. . .
. . . Shard had brunette roots.
Apparently his hair color was not naturally blue.
Shard was . . . a hair-dyer?
His brown roots were showing by only a half centimeter, but they were unmistakable. Although Misty never dyed her hair, she knew a thing or two about hair-color. All of her sisters were natural redheads and Misty often helped to color them pink, yellow and violet. Misty was surprised that she hadn't noticed this little guise before . . . Shard's hair was just so thick that one would never have noticed the roots without a thorough examination.
Misty frowned and shrugged this minor detail away. After all, plenty of people dyed their hair. She shoved the knowledge aside and stuffed it into the back of her mind.
Misty quickly continued her first aid task. There was a good bit of blood seeping through his eye mask. No doubt Shard was bleeding from an injury beneath the fabric. It would need to be cleaned. Misty's fingers hovered over Shard's mask, she knew that she had to remove it to properly aid him, it was a necessity. Only a part of her felt as though she would be betraying him, in some way, on some level, by removing it. Misty shook her head, scolding herself. Nonsense, she decided. Shard will agree that his health takes precedence to his masquerade. Besides . . .
Misty bit her lower lip. An urge within was grossly curious about what Shard looked like and why he was so intent to hide? Before Glare and Co. arrived, Misty was going to ask him to remove it anyway. Plus, when those idiots returned they were probably going to beat her blind, so she might as well look now.
Steadying her hand Misty began to peel away the fabric. Luckily Blastoise did not seem to care about protecting his master's mask secret.
Misty held her breath, carefully easing a finger beneath his mask. The fabric was sticky underneath and adhered to his skin like a Band-Aid. This made sense, if Rockets were out committing crimes they certainly did not want to risk their masks falling off and their identities being exposed. Misty peeled very gently, her fingers trembling as the first few centimeters peeled away. Surprisingly, unlike a Band-Aid, this adhesive did not redden Shard's skin and she noticed that his brunette eyebrows were not being pulled on either. The adhesive was oily and lubricated his face. It was a clever invention.
Misty continued to work at the mask, peeling until all edges were loose.
She was still holding her breath as she stripped the final corner of Shard's mask away.
