Seven

Ash could not sit still. It was the end of the day, and as soon as he got to the Company, he got to talk to Brock, their newest prisoner. They had placed him in the same cell as the man they had failed to kill a few weeks ago. Apparently, after Ash had gone home to do his homework the previous day, Paul and the Elitists had had a meeting about what to do with the man who had beaten their security. Even Cynthia had been there.

Ash had never met Cynthia. He hoped that catching this man would get him noticed enough to be promoted to Battle Trainer, like Paul. Then he could go on missions all by himself, and have his own team, and—

"Yo Ketchum!" Misty called, interrupting his thoughts. "Did you hear anything I just said?"

Ash shook his head. "Not a thing. Was it important?"

Misty looked away and grumbled, "Guess not."

Leaf was busy completing her math assignment, and thus rather oblivious to the conversation. "I had fun at the party," she stated.

"I did too," Ash added. "I'd like to go to the next one."

The girl just nodded. Evidently she did not hear his response. Misty, on the other hand, did. "I think I'll be hosting one soon," she informed him.

"You live in a mansion?" he questioned.

Misty looked ready to punch him. "No you retard. My sisters run an aquatic gym, and they're going out of town soon for another photo shoot." She sat back, her face smug. "So, in a few weeks, I'll be very capable of holding a party."

"This week there's one at Kasey's house," Leaf said.

Ash sighed. "I can't this week."

"Can you do anything after school today?" Misty interrogated. "I asked you this earlier, but you didn't hear me."

He shook his head regretfully. "Naw, I have to go to work." His eyes lit up. "And hopefully Cynthia will let me—." He stopped short when he noticed the two girls watching him intently. Ash swallowed and shrugged. "Do the job I've been wanting," he finished smoothly.

Misty narrowed her eyes at him. Suddenly she was very keen on who this Cynthia person was.


Professor Oak stared idly at the pokeball in his hands. He tossed it once, and caught it again. "Is it merely a coincidence?" he wondered aloud.

"Gramps, you've been babbling like that for the past hour," Gary said, sounding frustrated. He raised one of the glass beakers to his lips and blew, creating a resounding hoot. "What the heck are you talking about?"

The elderly man shook his head. "Just theorizing, Gary," he told him.

Gary rolled his eyes. "So you called me down here to listen to you theorize?"

"Hm? No, I wanted your help." Oak spun around in his chair and wheeled it over to where his grandson was blowing over glass beakers. He placed the ball in front of him. "Look. This is the ball that man stole yesterday. It contains one of my more primitive experiments, a hybrid snake whose body is comprised of rocks."

Gary stared at him, clearly not impressed. "And why is that important?"

"Well, you see, all of the creatures I create have a specific call they make. This one was rather… er, brutish, I suppose, but this is what it sounds like." He tossed the ball. "Come on out, Onix."

There was a bright flash, and the room was abruptly crowded with large boulders. Gary recoiled in shock, only to realize that one of the rocks had eyes, and a mouth like a crude line. It turned to glare at him, and sounded its roar. "BROCK!" it shouted.

Gary frowned. "Did it really just say what I think it said?"

Oak nodded enthusiastically. "Isn't it fantastic?" he cried, bouncing up and down. "This Brock person is destined to be its master!"

The young boy blinked. "I don't think so," he said carefully.

"Oh come now, Gary, it's as close to fate as you can get," Oak insisted.

"No, I really don't think that some random guy who broke into the Company is destined to have a two ton snake made out of rocks," Gary said.

"He can't be just any guy if he beat our system," continued the professor. "All the pokeballs are kept in an airlock chamber when here in the lab, or they are on their persons at all times. There is no way he is 'just some guy'."

Gary looked confused, then enlightened. "You mean he's a spy?"

Professor Oak shrugged. "What do I know? I'm the crazy old man who accidentally discovered genetic code splicing. I spend all my hours with imaginary creatures."

Gary stared at his grandfather. "Do you want me to contradict you or do you like to discredit yourself?" he asked.

"A little of both, actually," replied the old man.

Again, Gary stared at him. After the almost awkward eye contact, he gathered up his papers, took off his glasses, and left the laboratory.

"One more thing!" called Oak, and Gary turned around. "Something you need to tell Paul and Ash."


Paul was about ready to take his gun and place a hole in his head. Cynthia had ordered him to keep the prisoners under watch "until the Ketchum boy arrives," she'd said. And Brock and Leonard (as Paul had discovered was the name of their target within the first five minutes of the two being in the cell together) had really hit it off. They had not ceased talking since Paul turned the key in the door, and it was driving him crazy.

Was it too much to ask for some peace and quiet while on prison duty? If he had wanted this job, he would have become a policeman. Not an assassin.

This work was so below him. Where was that idiot intern? This was a job for him, not Paul.

"So you make weapons?" Brock was saying to Leonard.

"No, I design them, and the factories make them," Leonard replied.

"Oh cool," Brock said. "I take care of my ten brothers and sisters, since my mother died a few years back and my dad left us when I was a kid."

Leonard sounded confused. "Then what were you doing in this building if all you do is babysit?"

Brock hesitated in his answer. "I'm not entirely sure…" he said truthfully. He brightened up. "But that's not all I do!" he protested. "I'm a veterinarian. I run a clinic from my house, and all my siblings help me out."

"That's wonderful that you help animals," Leonard said with a smile.

Paul nearly gagged. Was he really guarding the saps of the criminal world?

"I design things that bring untimely death to millions of innocent people," Leonard continued, sounding sad. "I deserved to have that man there shoot me." Paul rolled his eyes. "And yet, he found it in his heart to spare me! God bless that man, my would be killer!"

"Are you kidding me," Paul growled. He found the deck of cards in the drawer of the desk and dealt them out for solitaire.

Brock sniffed. "That was so beautiful!" he cried.

Paul was just about to lose it when the door opened. He spun around, eternally grateful to whoever his savior was, when Ash walked in. "What are you three up to?" he inquired.

Paul's hope disappeared in a flash. Ash was just as bad as Brock and Leonard in his own special way. And chances were, he wouldn't get to leave until Ash was done interrogating the two. He hated being in charge.

"How did you get into the Company?" Ash asked Brock.

Brock shrugged. "I just… kinda walked right in, I suppose. I wasn't aware there was security." He glanced up at him. "Can I have my ball back now?"

"Why do you want the ball so bad?" Ash continued.

"I don't know, I just do!" Brock cried. "I've got some sort of attachment to it."

"How did you know where the balls were located?"

Brock shook his head. "I wound up there, I think. I don't remember much before you attacked me. Honest!"

Ash turned to Paul. "Is he telling the truth?"

Paul shrugged. "How should I know? I'm not the one with the Alakazam."

"Can we get a psychic in here, please?" Ash asked.

With a roll of his eyes, Paul pressed the intercom button by the keyboard and tapped his password into the number pad. It lit up, letting him know he was on air. "Can we get a psychic to holding cell 11C?" he said into the microphone. His voice reverberated around the building.

Eventually, a middle aged woman dressed in purple came through the door. "You called?" she asked. Her demeanor was unimpressed and she appeared bored.

Ash pointed at Brock. "We want to know if he's telling the truth."

She cast Brock an uninterested look before releasing her Pokemon. Out came an imposing yellow creature. "'Kay. Start asking."

The young assassin turned to his prisoner again. "How did you get to the balls?" he asked again.

"I don't know!" repeated Brock. "I hardly remember it."

Ash looked to the psychic. "Honest?"

The psychic glanced at her Alakazam and shrugged. "In a way."

"What does that mean?" Paul demanded.

The woman shrugged again. "It means he's lying and not lying at the same time. On the surface, he doesn't remember, but deep down, he does."

Ash glanced between the psychic and Brock, the latter of which looked positively terrified that someone could see that far into him. "So… do we break out the truth serum?"

"We could torture him," Paul suggested quietly.

"But we have to go through Cynthia for that," Ash whined. "Is there anything we can do without Cynthia's permission?"

Paul looked thoughtful. "Well, outside of feeding him and interrogating him, no, not really."

Ash grumbled something incoherent, probably some colorful language. "Then this really isn't getting us anywhere."

"Seems to be a recurring pattern, doesn't it?" Paul said.

"You're lucky Pikachu is in the Center," Ash snapped at him. "He'd barbeque you before you could even smirk."

"These men are so strange," said Leonard. "What on earth is Pikachu? A disease?"

The psychic rolled her eyes. "Can I go now? I left my kid in the daycare and she's screaming her head off, I can feel it." The Company had a daycare for children under five years old where parents could drop off their kids while working.

Paul recalled who was running the daycare today (Drew) and told her she could not leave until they made a decision.

Abruptly, the door swung open, and in paraded Gary. "My gramps and Cynthia decided that these two Nutter Butters—," he gestured wildly to the prisoners, "are going to work for the Company."

Paul and Ash erupted in angry tones. They were talking on top of each other, loudly complaining about the fact that such idiots would be allowed to work with the Company. What was Cynthia thinking? It wasn't fair! She wasn't going to let them be Trainers, was she?

Gary had to raise his hands to shut them up. "Yes, they're going to be Trainers, now put a sock in it!" he cried. From his pocket, he produced two gleaming red and white balls. "Here," he said, sticking his hands through the bars. "This one is for the Invisible Man, and this one is for Courage the Cowardly Dog." Brock and Leonard took their pokeballs respectively, staring at them in wonder.

"So I can give this to my sister now?" Brock wondered.

"Enough with the sister crap," Ash snapped. "We know that's not true."

Brock flinched and stared at the ball in fear. "Then why did you give it to me?"

"It's yours now," Gary clarified. "You get the ball, and whatever's inside it."

"Great, a decision has been reached," the psychic announced. "I'm out of here." She left the room eagerly, much to Paul's disappointment. He'd been hoping to torment Drew a little more.

Confused, Leonard gave his ball a shake. "I don't hear anything inside mine," he said.

Gary shook his head. "He's hopeless." With strained patience, the professor-to-be slowly instructed Leonard to press the button in the center to release the ball's contents.

Shock came over the man's expression as he pressed it, revealing a small brown creature. Its tail was curled around it, hiding its small, weak body.

"A raccoon?" questioned Leonard, his expression puzzled.

"Sentret," Paul observed. "How fitting."

Leonard prodded the tiny creature, and it uncurled with a panicked shriek. Leonard responded similarly, fumbling with the ball. "Put it back! Put it back!"

"Aw, they like each other," Ash said with false glee.

"A-buh-bup!" Gary said, looking at Brock, who had been about to release his Pokemon. "Don't open it in there. It's kinda big."

Brock gave the ball a queer look, but he obeyed.

"You push the button again, you imbecile," Paul growled.

Wary, Leonard shied away from the ball and pressed the center button again. There was a flash of red light that made him squeak, and suddenly the Sentret was no longer there.

"Whew," Leonard breathed. "Thank God that thing is gone."

"'That thing' is now your pet," Gary told him, smirking. "Better make friends with her, or else you'll be in for a nasty shock."

Brock looked up at Paul. "Do we get out of the cage now?"

Paul glanced at Gary. "Do they?"

Gary nodded. "Yeah, but they can't leave the building until Cynthia okays it. Ash, take squinty here to one of the battle rooms so he can try out his Onix."

With a gasp, Ash's eyes grew wide. "Onix? What was the professor thinking?" He waited until Paul unlocked the cell before dragging Brock out of the room. "Wow," he breathed. "Onix."

"And Paul," Gary continued, "you get to deal with Leonard."

Leonard gave Paul an enthusiastic smile. For the umpteenth time that day, Paul wondered why he didn't kill the idiot when he had the chance.


Misty stared at the ceiling above her bed. Downstairs, she could hear her sisters giggling with their dates, prattling on and on about things she would rid the world of if she could. The soccer ball she held in her hands had long since ceased to entertain her, and she now only tossed it for the sake of something to do.

The girl had a lot on her mind. First of all, there was that stupid math test tomorrow that she was bound to fail. She did not understand limits. They were far beyond her capability.

Second, there was a swim meet coming up, and she just had to get under a twenty-six in her fifty free. If she could do that, first place was hers.

And third, there was Ash. Stupid, oblivious, adorable Ash. She wasn't going to lie to herself—she had a crush on him. However, the fact that he mentioned someone named Cynthia in such an excited tone unnerved her. What if he was into her? What if she was into him? There was no reason not to be. He was good looking, funny, strong, and had a hint of intelligence. And he was nice, which was something most guys seemed to lack.

If she really thought about it, Misty was extremely lucky. Into her life walked the perfect guy, who immediately became her friend and crush. The only problem with perfect guys was that they were almost always taken, or gay, and it was starting to look like the former was the case.

She sighed and tossed the ball again. Love was the only sport she had never been good at. There were no written rules for it, and nobody played fair. There was no referee to call foul or determine a winner. People cheated left and right. No victory lasted long. It was the ultimate game.

The ball smacked the ceiling at an odd angle, and bounced across the floor. Misty rolled over and watched it spin away from her, not bothering to get it. Her sisters' giggling was uninterrupted by the thumping of the soccer ball.

Maybe she should play the game like them. Her sisters had guys dropping like stones for them. It couldn't hurt to learn a few tricks, since they were obviously good at what they did. Violet, Daisy, and Lily knew the game of love better than anyone, and they played to win, no matter how many hearts they crushed in the process.

Misty sat up bolt right. That was it! She had to play aggressive if she wanted to win. Like any game of soccer, lacrosse, or basketball, she had to intimidate the other players and take the ball for herself. Like swimming, she had to seize every stroke and turn with a ferocity that outdid all the other racers. She had to use every muscle in her body, ever fiber in her being to win.

Luckily, winning was something she was good at.

*AN: HARRY POTTER! Yes, it is HERE! I'm SO PSYCHED! Total Harry Potter nerd over here. ABC was showing all the movies the other day and I was literally reciting scenes. They even showed it with deleted scenes, and I was pointing them out like doing so would win me a large amount of money. I'm going tomorrow to see Deathly Hallows. Everyone should go celebrate Harry Potter-ness, because without J.K. Rowling, I would not be here, writing this story, making all of you happy. She is my inspiration and my hero and the reason I write and the person I would kill to meet. So if you know her, hook me up? Please?*