Chapter 6
The Path of the Righteous Man
"These people are batshit crazy."
Edie flipped through another page of the binder, sitting at a table in the Cerulean Pokemon Center. She read in the bright morning sunlight. The page was an old newspaper clipping, carefully laminated. At the top of the page was the frozen image of a large building exploding, a massive hole filled with fire and smoke. The headline shouted: TERRORIST ATTACK ON RICATTO BELLO FACTORY. Scribbled on the bottom of the picture in half-illegible handwriting: TR building eliminated.
"They attacked an Italian restaurant factory…" she muttered.
Charles frowned at her from his seat at the table. "What?"
"You know that shitty Italian chain, Ricatto Bello?"
Feolan's ears perked up. "They have the most ballin' unlimited breadsticks ever."
"Yeah, well, the KDF attacked one of their factories."
He gasped. "That's sick. People probably didn't get any breadsticks!"
What purchase did they have in attacking fast food? She had never been there because it received a sub-par rating from her mother. She flipped through the entire binder, through pages and pages of newspaper clippings detailing the exploits of both groups— Team Rocket hostage situations, Kanto Defense Force attacks on seemingly random buildings, many pages of complicated computer coding belonging to presumably both groups. The KDF was smart; there were no documented names or photos of the members, only scribbled-down codenames: Red. Blue. Gray. Black. Yellow.
"I don't know about these KDF people," Charles muttered, peering at the binder. "They make their base in an abandoned warehouse, use bombs, hack into computer systems, attack Italian restaurants, and allow a random girl to be a part of their team."
"It's not like I trust these people, Charles. But I trust them more than Team Rocket."
"I think they're badass," Feolan mentioned. "They blow shit up. Too cool."
"And besides," Edie continued, "we already had a run-in with Team Rocket. Which is worse? And we're not actually working for them. We're just…whatever Russell called it. Scouts, or something."
Charles shook his head. "I know. Just…let's be careful."
"But let's be badass, too," Feolan mentioned. "Because that's just as important."
Charles glared at him. "Feolan, why don't you go home?"
There was a pause. "Huh?"
"Home. Like, your family. We saved you from your trainer, who you clearly didn't care about, so don't you want to go back from where you came from? Home?"
He gaped at them for a moment. "Uhh…I thought I was staying with you guys!"
"Huh," Charles said, as neutrally and passive aggressively as he could.
Feolan's ears flattened back as he studied his paws. "I, uh, I've been passed around trainers since I was born, so I, uh, don't really remember. I don't really have a home to go back to…"
Charles's annoyance withered. "Oh." He glanced at Edie and she glared at him. "Well, you could stay with us if you wanted." He paused. "I mean, we could always use another teammate in case anything happens…"
"So I can stay with you guys?"
Edie cut in. "Definitely."
Feolan jumped from his seat. "YES, MOFOS!" He bounced back, grinning. "Dudes, you will not regret this. We'll be so awesome….beating up bitches, saving the world!"
Charles grimaced. "Right…well, we don't really plan to, uh, 'beat up any bitches'…"
Edie toned out the two Pokémon, starting at a poster across the room. She had eyed it ever since she woke up that morning, its words burning a hole in her mind. It was a painting of a massive ocean liner, its lower half a glossy bright red, with fireworks spiraling above it. Embossed across the boat were bold white words: S.S ANNE GALA TONIGHT! DANCE AMONG THE STARS!
She was somewhat like a Meowth in that she coveted anything shiny or glamorous. She didn't consciously want to drip in diamonds or drive expensive cars— she simply was drawn to it. She always assumed that it was because people covet what they can't have.
There was a sharp ringing tone from her backpack. The three jumped before Edie fumbled in the pack and removed her new phone, the source of the ringing. She answered the phone hesitantly.
"Hello?"
"It works!"
She recognized the voice. "Miguel?"
"Yeah! Sorry. I'm happy this works. It's just a cellphone with a few little tweaks. It's my newest project."
"Oh." She glanced at the phone briefly. It was heavily modified.
"Yeah, well, look, I need to meet up with you for a few minutes. I'll grab the binder from you, if you don't mind. And I have to tell you something that, uh, that Russell didn't tell you."
Something that Russell didn't tell her. She frowned, her guard rising. "I'm in the Pokémon Center."
"Great, I'll be there in a few minutes." The phone clicked off.
Charles looked at Edie. "What was all that about?"
"Something secret, apparently..." She smoothed her thin hand over the old binder, feeling the tattered edges of plastic. A date on the front of the binder said 1970. It seemed so in the past; before she was even a thought.
She took her medication and paused to check in with her mother via phone. Frida was either working or doing nothing, as usual. Her wavering voice always dropped a hunk of emotion on Edie's heart. Said emotion was a mixture of guilt and gloom— she could imagine her mother, one hand on the phone, the other picking at her eyebrows. She was a skin picker, and Edie clearly remembered a few terrible months when she was ten and Frida had to draw on her eyebrows.
Edie didn't mention the Kanto Defense Force.
Miguel arrived soon after, peering around the Pokémon Center before he made his entrance. Edie watched as he checked for invisible enemies; he stopped when he met her gaze.
He shook his head as he took a seat at her table. "You can never be too careful."
"It's a Pokémon Center."
"I'm pretty sure that one in Viridian got attacked a day or two ago."
She shoved the binder at him. "So, you guys blow up chain Italian restaurants?"
Miguel frowned. "What?"
"This newspaper article? You guys attacked the headquarters of that Ricatto restaurant."
"Oh…" He slowly took the binder from her. "Well, you know how Team Rocket has men in the police force?"
She frowned. "Don't tell me they also control shitty chain restaurants."
"Ricatto Bello is delicious," he warned. "But evil. Don't go there. That's all we know about. They could own more businesses. They put out feelers and go for whatever will make the most profit. Team Rocket is just an incredibly violent business empire. With mafia influences."
"And we're up against them."
"Team Rocket used to be scared of us. Now, they're too powerful. We're nothing. That's why we went on a hiatus. Russell just…" he rolled his eyes. "He's gone a little soft in the head after he realized that the Kanto Defense Force is screwed and it's his fault." He paused. "Don't tell him I said that. We still have a small chance, I guess, if you dig up anything."
Edie frowned. "So it's all on me?"
His eyes widened. "Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that! Seriously, don't think that. If anything went wrong, the guilt would kill me. God knows we put pressure on my little brother."
"Right, your brother…" she paused. "That Rocket guy, Archer…he, uh, mentioned him…"
Miguel's face shifted into a poorly masked pained expression. "His name is…was Noble…" She waited as he stumbled over his words. "I— I don't think he's alive."
She paled. "…I'm sorry."
"He wanted to help out with the Kanto Defense Force and Team Rocket captured him. Two years ago. He'd be a little older than you now."
Her heart seized as she watched Miguel, struggling to maintain composure. "I'm really, really sorry."
He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It's in the past. Years." His sighed, starting to clean his glasses on his shirt. "Just…be careful. That's what I needed to tell you. Russell makes it seem very heroic and everything, but this is dangerous business. Even if you aren't really a member, Team Rocket is a scary group. So many people have been killed working with us. If you need anything, call us. Call me. We'll help you."
"O-okay."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, but you need to know the truth. And we're always a phone call away."
"Do I have to do this? I mean, is there anything else I can do?"
"You could go home right now, but I wouldn't advise it. Just wait it out a bit and then when everything seems fine go back home. Patience is key."
"Okay. I guess I can just shift around…"
"Do you have anything planned?"
She nodded her head at the S.S Anne poster. "A fancy boat party, I wish."
He noticed her uncertainty, eyes flickering to the S.S Anne poster. His pained expression slowly replaced itself with a grin. "What if I told you that I had a ticket?"
"Huh?"
He took out his wallet and pulled from it, with a flourish, a shining gold ticket. She gasped and went to grab it before stopping herself.
"Here, take it." She took the ticket and examined it, eyes wide. Miguel laughed. "One of my best friends is named Bill. You may have heard of him, he created the first Pokémon Storage System. He always gets a ticket to the party, but he never goes. He always gives it to me and I never go, either. So, it's better off with you."
She grinned and looked up at him. "Are you serious?"
"Sure! You deserve a break after all of this mess."
"Wow…" She smiled sheepishly. "This is awesome. I've never been to a ball before. Thanks a lot."
"No. Thank you." He checked his watch and sighed. "I should go. Enjoy the party." He stood up and gave her a little salute as he left. "Remember, call us if you need anything."
"Will do. Thanks again."
As the doors closed behind him, Edie clutched at the ticket, reading it obsessively. "It's tonight! And there's…alcohol!"
Charles tried to grab the ticket from her. "You're sixteen!"
"Hey!" She held it out of his reach. "Calm down, mom. We deserve a break!"
Feolan smirked at him. "Yeah, mom."
Charles huffed. "You two seem to have forgotten that Miguel just told us that his little brother was kidnapped by Team Rocket! And murdered!"
Edie stuffed the ticket in her pocket. "I know, Charles. It sucks."
"But that's what happens when you get involved! You get kidnapped and killed!"
"We'll keep our distance, okay?"
"Good." He sniffed. "At least they seem a little more trustful now, I suppose."
"Why, because Miguel lost his brother? That's a good thing? That makes them more trustful?"
"No! It's just— well, it reminds me of a quote. 'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the tyranny of evil men'."
Feolan raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"
Charles shrugged. "It's a Biblical passage."
"Ooh, so you're a bible thumper."
"I'm not a bible thumper," Charles shot back. "It was the only thing to read in Professor Birch's house besides The Joys of Jello!"
"Oh. You just study it." Feolan nodded in mock wisdom. "So…you're like one of those bald guys who wears giant brown paper bags."
"…A monk?"
"Yeah, whatever."
"Ugh." Charles shook his head.
"Quit it, guys, we should head out soon. The party starts at 10." Edie shifted and looked out of the window. She could spot the top edge of the warehouse over a few tall trees. "Let's just see how righteous we can be without getting killed."
Archer sat in a Cerulean payphone booth, sulking, phone in hand. He stalled, watching people pass on the street. He would have to make the call.
He held the phone up to his ear, sitting through the dial tones.
A bright voice answered. "Ricatto Industries, how can—"
"This is Archer."
"Oh. One moment."
There were a few more tones and then another voice.
"Yes?"
"Hey." The other voice didn't respond and he continued hesitantly. "We finished up with the house and…we saw Gold. He came out of nowhere. And there was another one. Some girl. A teenager. Got her photo. Pale, thin, pretty average looking."
Archer waited for a response before continuing. "Yeah, we, um, we tailed them back to a coffee shop and…well, they kind of beat the shit out of the Grunts. " He paused. "We, uh, we didn't get them."
There was a heavy, ambient silence on the other end of the phone. It went on for a full minute, and then: "You failed at your most basic task."
"I know. I'm sorry. I— I really fucked up on this one." He scratched at the back of his head. "We didn't leave any trace, though, we offed the coffee shop guy who saw us and we busted the security camera, so—"
"You failed at your most basic task."
"…You're right." Archer's gaze went to the window, tired.
And then, there she was. His eyes bugged and he squirmed in the phone booth to get a better view. He spied her on the street with her little Pokémon troupe, gangly and lean, a decided spring in her step. In her hand was a flash of gold paper that she marveled at with wide eyes. He squinted and recognized the famous symbol of wealth— a ticket to the annual S.S. Anne gala.
"Um." He returned to the conversation. "Just kidding. Change of plans. Are you going to the S.S. Anne party?" The other end was silent and Archer hurried on. "Can someone get me a ticket to the S.S Anne party?"
"Consider it done."
"Thank you."
"Clean up the mess."
"Right."
The line went dead and Archer hung up the phone. He was too young for this shit.
