The bad news: This is really late. I blame college.
The good news: I haven't forgotten about you guys
The better news: This will be even better in the morning, when I can edit it.
The best news: It's super long.
EDIT: Added a decent amount of information to everything after the campsite was set up, and fixed a lot of typos. I felt it warranted the chapter being re-updated, so that everyone knew of the changes. They are fairly important. Well, at least, to me. They made it more believable as well as adding clarity. Anyways, I added a line where the major changes are. Enjoy!
The thrill of adventure wore itself down soon enough. Mike's legs swung in to a steady rhythm after his sprint and stayed there with startling consistency. Faster than a normal walk, but not by much: a well-practiced trainer's march. Many of the other trainers had decided to release their Pokémon and jog ahead, either by themselves or in groups of two or three. Rodger had released his Dratini and marched off alone, the tip of a blue tail being the last that they saw of him or his Pokémon. Kait's shorter legs had her keeping up a good pace next to Mike, and their Poliwag waddled around at their own leisure. Mike couldn't help but notice that Little Mac was certainly little compared to Kaitlyn's blue tadpole. Both of the Poliwag were legless, however, which made them miserably slow at worst and tolerable at best. Their trainers would often stop and urge the little things along, until finally one of them got fed up.
Not surprisingly, it was Kaitlyn.
"They aren't even attacking anything!" She had been complaining for a few minutes now, to which Mike had been stoically listening to, but she had only just become loud, "look at them, Mike! They're just derping around back there! Derp derp! I'm a Poliwag!" She squished her lips together and began to waddle as Mike arched an eyebrow. The tadpoles finally heard her and looked in their direction, the larger of the two waddling back towards its trainer.
"They're doing what?" The term was rather foreign. Kait looked at him as if he were rather foreign.
"Don't they have memes in Hoenn? Or do you guys not get internet out in the willy-wax?" Mike looked at her levelly.
"I've been out t-training non-stop for the last eight m-months," Mike spoke, which immediately silenced Kait's whining, "and I n-never much liked computers."
"Liar, nobody hates computers." Kaitlyn's awe was gone, and she returned to her prodding and complaining, "I know you play video games. Little Mac's from Punchout, huh? That one is really, really old! But he doesn't even have arms, so it's not like he'll do much punching. I was smart and named mine something relevant. Isn't that right, Dewey?"
"Pli! Poli!" The larger one made a noise that one could accurately describe as a helium-fueled croak as it approached, and Kait reached out and very lightly patted his head. Mike rolled his eyes before connecting them with Mac. He gave a shrill whistle, which made everyone else present jump. The little tadpole simply looked at him, blinking its large eyes. Mike looked back, giving a slight nod as if to say 'yes, Mac, I am whistling at you' before he puckered his lips again. Another shrill whistle sounded, and the Poliwag got the message and began to waddle towards Mike. The Champion smiled and knelt down as soon as Mac was close, showering it with praise.
"Good boy, Mac! You remember to come when I whistle, okay?" Unlike Kaitlyn, Mike was unafraid by the slimy skin, playfully rubbing the little creature under his good hand. It chirped and cooed, not quite able to make all the sounds that Dewey could make, but loving the attention nonetheless. "You know what a whistle is now, right? Whistle," Mike demonstrated, but much quieter. The playful expression vanished from Mac's face, replaced by one of pure attentiveness. After a moment, the tadpole shook his whole body as if to nod, slipping around in his trainer's hands. Mike smiled a little wider, moving back in to another shower of praise, rubbing and scratching the slimy skin.
"It's not a baby," Kaitlyn remarked, but thought for a moment, "Well, uh, is it? Mine's three months old, and about as big as a Poliwag usually gets. Yours is teeny tiny, how old is he?"
"About t-ten weeks, according to the lab," Mike shooed Little Mac off in to the grass, and Dewey immediately followed him, their tiny feet slapping dully against the ground as they went. "Go fight something, you two!"
"You really think they understand us at that age?" Kaitlyn continued her walk, and Mike followed, nodding.
"I bet the l-lab assistants talk to them all of the t-time, to foster early recognition," Mike explained, "and even if they don't understand, it's better to start t-talking to them early. Gives them ample time to learn." Kait huffed at this and crossed her arms.
"Well, they aren't exactly learning how to fight, that's for sure," Kait complained, "are you sure we should just be letting them run around? Shouldn't we keep them close so we can sick 'em on the first Rattata we see?"
"Rattata, you mean." Kait gave him the same outlandish look from before.
"It's Rattata. Ruh-tat-uh. Quit being a know-it-all."
"I s-swear to Arc it's Rat-ah-tah."
"I suh-swear to Arc you're annoying! And," she wiggled her head in a mockingly playful fashion, trying her best to imitate Mike's natural sound, "your accent is silly." Mike rolled his eyes at this, but she continued, "anyways, so long as one of them sprays a Ruh-tat-uh out of the grass pretty soon, I guess it doesn't matter. Or even a Pidgey."
"You mean Pee-shay?" Kait thumped him on the arm as he chuckled, and they continued on down the path. Every so often, they would catch the end of a purple tail darting away, or a Pidgey being disturbed by their Poliwag and taking to the air. Half an hour passed. Then an hour. And still no obvious sign of their Pokémon battling anything. As the sun began to lazily drift further east, maybe two hours later, Kaitlyn finally lost it.
"I haven't even seen what attacks he can do! Where the hell are they!" Kaitlyn reached up and began to pull on her hair. Mike placed his hands on her shoulders, gently lowering her arms away from her scalp. He knew all about being easily frustrated, and silently made an oath to nip her attitude in the bud. Just as soon as he reigned his back in.
"How old are you?" Mike asked rather seriously.
"Fourteen! I've been waiting four years for this, and-"
"Then act your age, Rodger." There was a tangible change in mood as Kaitlyn took a deep breath. Her hands returned to her sides and balled in to white-knuckled fists. After a moment, Mike let go of her arms and gave her a gentle push forwards to resume their pace.
"I'm sorry, Mike, I just want to see one little fight!" As if her whining was a cue, there was a wet slap to their left, followed immediately by a purple rat tumbling out of the grass and on to the path in front of them. Kait's fists shot straight in to the air as she withheld most of a squeal of delight. As the slimy rodent staggered to its feet, a jet of foam blew him back off of them.
Both of their Poliwag waddled out of the grass after it. Mac spun around and sliced his large tail at the Rattata in a very slick movement. Literally. The little rat was knocked clean off his feet and had no idea what was going on as the two tadpoles bore down on it. Dewey shot out another spray of bubbles, which the Rattata frantically tried to scurry away from. It wobbled its way over towards the trainers, realized what it was doing, then turned and bolted right back in to Mac and his impressive tail. With a final, wet, powerful smack, the creature was flung in to the air and hit the ground hard, twitching on the side of the path.
"Woo-hoo!" Kaitlyn cheered, running over to Dewey and - hesitantly - patting his head, "you did a great job, Dewey!" The Poliwag croaked its approval, trying to mush itself up in to Kait's hand to little avail. She was thoroughly resistant in getting her hands too slimy, but managed to allow herself to rub her Poliwag's head a little bit.
Mike, on the other hand, had a good reason for not touching Mac. As he approached to congratulate his companion, he noticed that he wasn't in the best shape: red marks where his skin was very slimy, black marks where his skin wasn't slimy at all, and the general heaving of Mac's body as he rested were worrying him. Mike set his bag down next to his friend and began to rummage through the various contents. He must have been fighting a lot out there, probably because most of the wild Pokémon were weak.
"Good job, little guy," Mike whispered soothingly to his team mate, "looks like you've been training hard out there." Mac cooed weakly at him as he pulled a bottle of water and a potion from an inside pocket, almost fumbling them as he clumsily gripped them in his off-hand. "How is Dewey doing," Mike called over his shoulder, turning to take a quick glance at the two.
"Dewey's great! He's got, like, one little bump on his forehead, but he's such a trooper!" Mike could have sworn that Mac rolled his eyes at this, and the irritated slap of his tail against the ground confirmed his suspicions. The trainer chuckled at this, placing the bottle of water on the ground and unwrapping the potion.
"I bet you've been protecting him all day, huh?" The Poliwag gave a vigorous nod, turning to face Mike as he shook up the potion bottle, "now this will sting a little bit, but you'll feel better afterwards. Close your eyes for a sec." Mac's eyes clamped shut tight as Mike coated the Pokémon in a layer of mist. It shuddered at first, but seemed to sink in to a relaxed slouch as Mike finished, leaning back and using his tail as a built-in kick stand. "You know he's the bigger one, right?"
"Wag-po-polii!" The creature was indignant, but definitely proud. Mike could tell he would have fun trying to pick up on his new friend's personality. He was actually tickled pink that the Poliwag understood his own language so easily, and doubly so that he was already trying to communicate back, despite his age. He hadn't expected near-sentience so early on. Mike happily unscrewed the cap on the water bottle with his teeth before he held it up for Mac to drink. The creature gave a small squeal of delight before taking the lip of the bottle in his mouth and upending it, sucking the plastic bottle dry within seconds. It crinkled in upon itself almost completely before the vacuum was finally too strong, and the crackly pop that the bottle made surprised the Poliwag as he dropped it to the ground. It was nearly dry, and Mike upended the last of the water over his teammate before tossing the empty bottle out in to the grass; he loved buying the biodegradable trainer-friendly junk. The creature chirped happily, and he could have sworn that one of the rather large bruises he had was completely gone.
"You heal quick, Mac. Did you like that water?" Mike reached out and rubbed his teammate all over, making sure he was nice and slimy. Mac gave a chirrup of delight at the apparent massage as his trainer, and Mike gave a smile of delight when he didn't find any obvious sore or dry spots on his Pokémon. With a poor - but funny - attempt at wiping the slime off of his hand on to Mac's tail, the champion sent his little trooper back out in to the wild. The wet feet slapped against the dirt right up to the edge of the grass, where he turned around and made a high-pitched - but surprisingly loud - croak to Dewey.
"Hold on, Mac!" Kait was kneeling in front of her Poliwag, a look of frustration on her face as she tried feebly to get an already slimy bandage to stick to her fussing Pokémon's head. "Dewey! Hold still! How are you supposed to get better if you won't protect your bump?" Mike could see that she was working out of her comfort zone: she very clearly didn't want to touch her partner, even though she wanted to help him. And she was trying to put gauze on a slippery Pokémon. For a tiny bump, no less. Mike picked up his nearly empty Potion spray bottle from the ground and approached Kaitlyn's fussing form.
"Don't," she snapped, finally overcoming her resistance to slime to firmly press the strip of gauze over the bump, to which the Poliwag gave a small squeak of pain, "I can handle this! I don't need a potion for a little bump, anyways." Kait rubbed her hands in to the short grass on the ground, giving the Poliwag's bandage a hesitant look. Much to everyone's surprise, it finally stuck to the slime. Until Dewey gave a small shake, sending the bandage straight in to Kaitlyn's face with a wet slop. Kaitlyn gave a short shriek as the bandage slopped down her front and to the ground, which sent her Pokémon waddling away as fast as it could go. And just like that, Mike was left alone with an incredibly upset - and rather slimy - teenage girl.
"You little freak!" Mike felt a chuckle bubble up inside of him and had a very hard time suppressing it as she continued, "this was a brand new shirt! And I was just trying to help you and you ruined it!" Mike finally broke as she wiped a thick layer of slime off of her face and made quite the display of having nowhere to clean it off. Noticing Mike, she marched over to him and wiped her hands down his front without hesitation. Mike just laughed harder, which made her even madder.
They marched in nearly-complete silence for another hour, broken only by the occasional squawks and squeaks of Rattata and Pidgey falling prey to their Poliwag. The sun baked off a good amount of slime from the both of them within that time, and was well on its way to setting. It wasn't long before Mike was subconsciously looking for places to camp. If anything, the campfire would get the irritated Kaitlyn to open up a little bit. Every time Mike wanted to bring up a topic, he would think himself in circles until he found the idea either frightening, offensive, or completely unimportant. But campfires always seemed to bring about good conversation.
"So," Kaitlyn broke the silence between them as they approached one of the many small, steep hills that littered the route, "why haven't you let the rest of your team out yet?"
"All of the Pokémon here are f-fairly small and weak," Mike explained, "and my Pokémon are fairly large and terrifying. The Pokémon would h-hide, and our starters would have nothing to fight." This idea had obviously not occurred to Kaitlyn at all, but didn't stop her curiosity.
"Well, they've been out there goofing around for hours. Let them out!" Kaitlyn reached for Mike's belt, and he swatted her hand away. She made another attempt, seeming to home in on Goomba's relatively normal pokéball and snatching it from Mike's waist. Mike's hand snapped out and stole it back just as quickly, however, and met her slight surprise with a glare.
"You really need to learn some trainer etiquette," Mike commented, rolling Goomba's ball around in his good hand, "don't just try and g-grab someone else's balls. It's impolite." Mike instantly realized what he had said, his poker face faltering.
Kaitlyn snickered openly, which caused Mike to finally break out in to laughter. Content that his lesson would at least be memorable, he placed Goomba's orb in to the dent in his cast and gave it a decent toss. It was actually a rather cool sight to see: Mike had turned his arm in to a catapult, and the Breloom sprang out with a raspy croak of delight. The Pokéball rebounded back to his good hand, and was replaced on his belt.
"Looooom!" Mike smiled as his friend began to bounce around the path, springing up the steep hill as if it were nothing, only to run back down and come to a halt in front of his trainer with practiced ease. One of its arms extended, scratching one of the spore bulbs on its cap, a small cloud of white spores loosing itself. Mike took that as an instruction and began to scratch his bulb with his good hand, which triggered another small puff of spores and a bout of contentment in the Breloom.
"So what is she?" Kaitlyn slowly circled the creature, and Mike saw her eyes constantly looking at the scar on his neck. Guilt welled up in his stomach as he hoped she wouldn't ask.
"He." The Breloom snorted at her, shifting his head underneath Mike's absently scratching hand, "and he is a Breloom. Grass-Fighting, and one of the strongest fighters on the p-planet. I've heard of these things going toe-to-t-toe with Machamp and coming out on top. Goomba's actually done it twice." He felt the Breloom swell with pride underneath his hands. He should know better than to feed his ego, especially after the thing had taken down a Regi, but he didn't mind a little showing off to a newbie.
"Bullshit."
"Swear on my life," Mike started their pace back up again, the Breloom plodding along next to them as they made their way around the side of one of the world's tiniest cliffs. Kaitlyn began to ask questions about the foreign creature, which prompted Mike to begin to yammer on about the physiology and training methods for the grassy fighter. Said fighter took this moment to wander off in to the grass, taking short hops through it. Mike was always so impressed that his Pokémon knew how to flush out his opponents, but this time, Goomba wasn't looking for opponents. From the corner of his beady eye, he spotted one of the blue creatures that stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the grasses. He was accompanied by a second, smaller creature of the same hue. With a tiny smile, Goomba knew who he was looking at: the new guy.
"Popopo!" The bigger Poliwag croaked out the order, causing the smaller one to shoot out a thin stream of bubbles at a soggy Pidgey in the next clump of grass. The Breloom snorted: he was so easily dominated. It was something that Mike would ease him out of in time, but Goomba had other plans. He made his way in to the small clearing, observing the feeble bubble attack from the new blue thing as he sized up the both of them. They were very, very young.
"Bre." The bubbles dribbled down to nothing at the raspy voice, and both Pokémon looked to their superior. The interruption wasn't taken kindly to by the larger Poliwag.
"Po! Popopo!" the smaller one looked back to his superior as if he were insane, but still turned back to face down the Breloom. It was then that Goomba noticed something peculiar: There was no fear in the smaller one's eyes. Anticipation, nerves, self-doubt, all of those were obvious. But the Breloom saw no obvious signs of fear.
"Loom-oom?" Asked the Breloom.
"Lili-po. Poliwag." Goomba gave a nod to Little Mac, who returned the respectful gesture.
"Wag-li," chimed in the larger Poliwag. Dewey, however, was shown no such respect. Flustered, it croaked out another order, "Popopo!"
"Bre." Mac looked between the two of them. Dewey was his superior, but the Breloom was thoroughly intimidating.
"Popopo!"
"Bre! Loo-brel breloom!"
"Popopo-o-o-o!" With Dewey becoming irate, Mac gave in and shot a weak foamy jet at the Breloom. Goomba jumped over both the foam and the smaller Pokémon easily, before whipping around with an exposed arm and slapping the tiny creature with practiced restraint. It tumbled through the grass and out on to the path, the larger Poliwag letting out a croak of shock. Breloom paid him no heed, bounding out of the grass and after his new team mate. He would learn independence in time, but first he would have to learn the difference between the 'superior' Poliwag and a truly superior teacher.
Mike heard a squishy thump and a shrieking croak from behind him, turning to see his small Pokémon with a large red welt across his back. Kait turned too, giving a slight look of relief as she realized that it was not her starter. Mike didn't notice this, instead scooping up his barely conscious Pokémon and transferring the Poliwag to the crook of his right arm before wiping off his slimy fingers and pressing them in to his mouth, blowing out a shrill note. A Breloom bounded out of the grass, pointedly looking away from his trainer.
"Goomba, what the hell was that for?" Mike scolded.
"Bre-loo, loom loom bre." The Breloom replied, not at all sheepish.
"So you swiped him?" Kait's mouth dropped open at this. For some reason, this was her confirmation that Mike was just as good a trainer as everyone made him out to be. The Breloom nodded, scowling up at Mike just as hard as Mike was scowling back.
"I am the trainer here, Goomba," Mike placed Mac back on the ground, propping him up on his tail, and slid off his backpack again. He pulled a canteen out of it, checked to see if it was empty - it was - then handed it to Goomba.
"Breloom?"
"Yes, this is your punishment. I haven't seen any signs of water all day. Make sure it's clean, and if I catch you trying to do my job again, I'll have Caito make the fire extra big for a week. And you'll have immediate vicinity guard duty." Goomba's eye gave a small twitch of fear, but nothing more. "Are we perfectly clear?"
"Loo-om" The Breloom gave a salute before sniffing the air. After a moment, he bounded off eastward, and Mike pulled another bottle of water out of his bag.
"This is the last one I've g-got," Mike unscrewed the cap and took a swig, "I think Mac can heal using water or s-something like that, so I'm gonna try this instead of a p-potion. Wanna drink first?"
"You can talk to your Pokémon!" Kaitlyn took the bottle from his hands after the exclamation, eyed it squeamishly for a moment, then attempted to dribble an amount from the bottle to her mouth without touching her lips. It seemed like she was used to this practice, but she still dribbled a fair amount on to her shirt. The crust of the slime was suddenly gooey and fresh once more, but she didn't seem to mind, "Isn't it hard to do that? How do you do that? Can I do that?" Mike stretched out his hand for the water bottle, which Kaitlyn provided. Without a second thought he squeezed the bottle empty over the Poliwag. The large eyes snapped open as the pink lips went to work slurping up as much water as he could. Mike whipped the bottle out in to the grass again, which Kaitlyn didn't even bat an eye at, before zipping his backpack up and throwing it on to his back again.
"I can talk to Farran and Goomba," Mike admitted, "because I've known both of them for at least a decade total," he pushed Mac back on to his feet with his toe, spinning him around to check his back. It was still somewhat red, but only just, "and my Grumpig, Babe, is psychic-type. Caito is smart, but Ninetales aren't exactly…" Mike searched for the right word as he wiped some slime from the cast on his right hand, "sentient."
"Sentient?" Kaitlyn asked as they continued to walk, the Poliwag deciding to putter along close behind them, occasionally shooting looks out towards the grass.
"Maybe it's not the right word, b-but…" Mike didn't want to say, 'some Pokémon are not as intelligent as others,' but didn't know a nicer way of saying it. Sure, Caito was a brilliant fighter, but he couldn't compare to Goomba or Farran in terms of intelligence. Caito didn't have a defined language, just barks and yips. When he was hooked up to a translator, the words that came through - if any - were very basic: 'Mike', 'Pokémon', and 'help' were the brunt of his vocabulary. Mike would still give Caito commands, though not nearly as often as his Gyarados. Floater was, as one foul-mouthed trainer had put it, "a genuine trainer-fucker-upper," but seemed to only have a mind for fighting. Strategies would have to be worked on for weeks, and even then just a handful at a time. His Magneton, on the opposite end of the spectrum, actually understood basic computer scripts: a copy of 'Programming for Morons' had Magnus fighting incredibly well within a month.
"You mean, like," Kaitlyn had been mulling the idea over as Mike had, "he can't talk?"
"Kind of. Not all Pokémon are c-created equal." Mike made his way around the steep hill, Kaitlyn and his Poliwag trailing behind him as they went. "Goomba can think like us because, strange as it seems, fighting-types have very powerful b-brains. Usually they use all of their m-minds to memorize lots of different f-fighting styles, but they can get very intelligent with a capable trainer. And Aggron, like Farran, are just plain intelligent. Even wild Aggron have well-developed l-languages, social structures, and concepts of land ownership and diplomacy."
"Wow."
"Yeah," Mike smiled down at the dented Pokéball at his belt, "wow."
Mac was content to follow the two trainers as they made their way further north, which worried Mike slightly. Dewey, even if he was bigger, was out in the grass alone. And Goomba wasn't returning as quick as he had hoped, either. Kaitlyn, as usual, seemed pleasantly aloof to the potential danger of the situation, and after another hour or so of walking, Mike decided he should bring it up.
"Have you seen Dewey?" Kaitlyn gave the area a quick scan, furrowing her brow.
"I haven't in a while," Kait remarked with a frown. Mike watched the worry seep in to Kaitlyn's face as her eyes looked towards the setting sun, "and it's starting to get dark. Where is your mushroom guy?"
"I'm not w-worried about Goomba." Mike pressed his fingers in to his mouth and whistled hard, twice. One blow meant 'return' and two meant 'urgent'. He hoped he wouldn't have to get to three. They heard Goomba before they saw him, bounding through the grass at an alarming pace. The canteen was slung around his neck and clamped firmly in his hands, and he was panting slightly, but was otherwise unharmed. The Breloom offered up the canteen immediately, and Mike gave it a shake. It sounded halfway full, and was still wet.
"Did you just try fill this?" Mike asked. Goomba gave a nod. The lazy little bum. "It doesn't matter, go find Dewey. Poliwag, almost twice as big as Mac. We're setting up camp under that hill over there," Mike pointed to a spot about a hundred yards away, which Kaitlyn hadn't even noticed as she spun her head to look, "and if you so much as-"
"Bre-bre reloo?" Goomba inquired, tapping the middle of the brim of his mushroom cap.
"Yes, actually," Mike was slightly surprised he remembered the injury himself, "you've seen him?"
"Loom lo-oom," the Breloom rolled his eyes and bounced back the way he came. Kaitlyn, once again, was dumbstruck. Mike turned and gave Little Mac a short whistle, prompting the tadpole to stumble up closer to his trainer. The young girl watched the Champion with a mixture of awe and sheer confusion as he made his way towards his predetermined camping spot. Kaitlyn followed him after a moment, just staring at him as he placed his bag on the ground and began to pull out various capsules. The Pokéball-like objects were labeled with masking tape, a particular one labeled 'Cooking Stuff' ejecting the contents of a small kitchen on to the ground in front of him in a glow of blue light. He placed the ball in a large pan before reaching for his regular set of spheres. In assorted flashes of lights and patterns, his team materialized in front of him. Four members of it, at least. Farran stretched his arms wide, as he always did, the creaking and scraping of metal filling the air. The rest of his team took up similar actions: a large Ninetales stretched itself out, arching its back and individually flicking out its tails; Babe stretched his stubby legs behind him, warming up for his odd dancing that would construct the campsite; A Magneton… floated.
"Farran, we need a bench," the orders came instantly and without hesitation, "at least try to find a dead tree this time. No pulling up trees just because you want to take them home. That's a risky teleport. Caito, we need firewood and tinder. Magnus, go-to scan. If hostiles, go-to stun. If help needed, signal, if… blue swirly-bellied tadpole, signal. Babe, you do that voodoo that you do so well. Any questions?"
"Who's the new guy?" Farran looked down at the small, spellbound blue tadpole like it was some strange, delicate curiosity. Which, for the time being, it might as well have been. The rest of the team took notice as well, sans the already patrolling Magnus. Mike snapped his fingers, instantly drawing their attention back to him.
"Introductions at dinner, so the quicker you go, the quicker you'll know!" Mike shooed them off with his hands as the Aggron and Ninetales took off in opposite directions. Babe instantly began to dance, his psychic powers assembling a ring of stones for the soon-to-be fire. Kaitlyn had watched this thirty-second affair in silence. She was just as bewildered as Mac was. Not for the first time that day, they fell in to an awkward quietness, standing around and waiting for something to happen...
Mike and Kaitlyn both jumped as a tree snapped in the distance. It sounded fairly rotted to the champion, so at least that was going in his favor. He wouldn't have to make an unnecessary trip back to Hoenn to keep a pet tree tomorrow morning. Caito made the next appearance, dropping off a mouthful of tinder near the circle of stones as Babe set up a spit over the ring. Mac waddled towards the pig, who paid it no heed as he began to lay out the pots and pans in a particular order. Farran lumbered in to camp hauling a rather fresh-looking tree behind him, laying it down with a thump a few feet from the fire pit. It was a lot greener than he had expected, but at least it wouldn't crumble in on them.
"Shouldn't you be worrying about Dewey," Kaitlyn asked, taking a seat with a huff as the Ninetales dropped another load of tinder with the first before moving to the end of the tree bench and gnawing off branches for the soon to be fire. Somewhere in the distance, there was the faint snap of electricity. Magnus must have tazed some poor Pidgey or something.
"Isn't Dewey your Pokémon?" Mike hadn't expected himself to say that. Her mouth dropped open in shock, which soon twisted in to anger.
"You- You told me to let him roam!" Well, she had a point. Mike had been trying a new training technique that had worked with Babe months ago, but maybe it didn't translate well to non-psychic Pokémon. Or lab-trained Pokémon. He would be sure to remember to keep better tabs on Mac from now on. Total independence wasn't his best idea.
"I have two of my best out there l-looking for him," Mike conceded, "and with any luck, they will find him before sundown."
"Which is soon." Kaitlyn looked hopelessly towards the horizon in a wide circle. All she could see were the distant, wispy columns of smoke beginning to spring up. "Are those trainer fires?"
"Probably, the wildlife would be p-panicky if it was a grassfire." Mike shifted from his seat to his knees, shuffling up to the fire circle and sorting out the smaller twigs from the larger sticks that Caito was diligently gnawing off of the tree-bench. He made two neat piles with them before turning to face Kait. "Ready to learn?"
"How am I supposed to learn with my starter missing?" Despite her worries, she crouched down next to the circle and wrapped her arms around her knees. Obviously pouting, and obviously not listening. Mike, however, pressed on.
"Know how to make a fire?" Mike picked up a few of the bigger sticks and began to snap them down to a manageable size as his assistant glared at them over her folded arms. Placing them in a wide square, he assembled layers of alternating large sticks, before stuffing the empty center with tinder. He adjusted the entire log cabin-esque structure, making it a little tighter, but not at all suffocated. Caito arrived with another batch of dead branches before sitting pointedly opposite of Mike. He reached over the spit and scratched his living tinderbox behind the ears appreciatively.
"Did you see what I did," Mike asked, looking to his unwilling student.
"Yes," she mumbled.
"Semi-loose log cabin?"
"Yes."
"Tinder in the middle?"
"Yes."
Mike picked up the entire thing and dumped it in a messy pile in front of Kaitlyn. This finally got her attention.
"You'll have no problem m-making it for us, then," Mike couldn't help but smirk at the shocked expression on the young girl's face as he stood up and dusted off his knees. Somewhere in the distance there was another snap of electricity. Magnus must have taken it upon himself to make dinner.
And then another.
And again. And again. And again.
Mike took off with Farran on his heels as if this had been planned. Mike's fears began to realize themselves: there was a blinding flash of light right where he had figured Magnus would be. The signal. But there was no Magnus to be seen. Caito bolted past him and headlong in to a deep patch of grass where the Magneton had been hovering a few moments before. Within seconds, the screams of a young woman filled the air. Mike brushed through the grass and towards the noise, coming in to a small clearing as a loud bang rendered him nearly deaf. A metallic ping was all that broke through his now-muffled hearing.
The screams had been from a young boy, one of the other trainers that Oak had sent out that day. Caito, however, was focused on a man in a black outfit who had a gun shakily leveled in his direction for all of a second. The Ninetales wrapped his teeth around the assailant's wrist and crunched down, the gun dropping to the ground and a deeper scream of pain filling the air. The free hand whipped around to punch Caito hard in the nose, and the Ninetales released in a daze. Mike dove for the gun as the other man did, and he was supremely lucky enough to reach the weapon first.
Mike had never held a gun in his life, and it felt especially foreign in his off hand, but he was able to press it in to the temple of the man easy enough. For a split second, Mike saw pure fear in the hazel eyes that were staring back in to his own. He instantly tried to memorize his face: pale, hair concealed by the hat but he could guess it was blonde from his eyebrows, and hazel eyes. He didn't seem much older than him.
"Give me back my Dratini!" The other trainer was very suddenly courageous, kicking the man incredibly hard in the ribs. He gave another shout of pain as Mike took a quick look around to see where his Magneton had gone. He had disappeared.
"Look, just let me go," the man begged, "I didn't- I didn't-" Mike pressed the gun against his head as he tried to wiggle towards the pokéball, and both Caito and Farran gave intimidating growls.
"Didn't think you would get caught!" Another kick was given, and the man rolled over on to his back. A large red 'R' was on the front of his shirt, another thing for Mike to remember. "a Rocket attacks a relative of a Champion, with another Champion in the area, and he thinks he won't get caught?"
"Shut up," Mike hissed, leaning on his bad hand for a brief moment to try to push himself up. A jolt of pain caused him to drop the pistol from his shaky hand, which the man immediately grabbed up. Caito, however, pounced before he could level the weapon and gnashed at his other hand, rendering both of them useless and leaving the gun on the ground for Mike to snatch up again. He leveled it at the man, who was thrown to the ground by the furious Ninetales. Mike jumped on him and landed hard, causing the man to let out a wheeze.
"Get his Pokéballs from him," Mike ordered to the trainer behind him. There was no hesitation as the boy stripped several Pokéballs from his belt.
"So you're robbing me now," the man groaned, nearly breathless beneath Mike's weight, "fucking fantastic. Both fucking hands are fucking broken, and you little fucks are-"
"Watch your mouth," Mike warned, pressing the barrel of the gun in to the man's temple again, flicking his hat off in the process. Short blonde hair, almost bleached blonde. "Grab his hat, too." The boy did so, using it to hold the pokéballs. Mike looked up to Farran and jerked his head towards the man's feet. The Aggron circled around slowly to the would-be theif's legs, and Mike could feel him shuddering as claws wrapped themselves around his ankles. The Champion pushed himself to his feet as the man dangled by his. Mike brandished the weapon at the man, who flinched. It was only then that Mike noticed that he had his finger around the trigger, which he removed.
"I should tear you in half for attacking my trainer," Farran growled darkly, "but I would want to turn you around first so I could see the look on your face as I-"
"Farran," Mike barked, motioning with the barrel of the gun in a circle. Farran roughly rotated the man so that he was the right side up with his arms pinned to his sides.
"Are you gonna kill me," the man deadpanned, "cause I'd rather you do it than fucking psychopath Arch-"
"We won't kill you," Mike had thought about it, though, a fleeting idea that scared him slightly, "but we're keeping these Pokémon with us. What's your name?"
"Fuck you." Farran squeezed the man hard, who began to groan, "Michael! My name is Michael Almus!"
"Bullshit," Michael hissed, nodding to Farran who resumed his squeezing, "you heard that on the Battle Network. Don't I look familiar to you?"
"What kind of idiot gives a fake name to the person with that name?" The boy remarked behind him. Mike knew that voice.
"I know, right?" Farran spoke incredulously, squeezing the man even harder. He let out a shout of agony as one of his ribs broke with a loud crack.
"Fuck! Jonathan! My name is Jonathan! Jonathan Cristoph-aaauuugh!" Mike nodded to Farran again, who relaxed. So did Jonathan.
"Jon," Mike started, lowering the pistol, "do you have any other Pokémon on you?"
"No," Jon replied, "you fucking took them all."
"Any weapons?"
"Switchblade in my left pocket." Mike looked for the safety on the pistol, engaged it, experimentally pulled the trigger - which terrified Jonathan - and placed it in his pocket so he could use his good hand. He reached in to the man's pocket and pulled out the switchblade, pocketing it as well.
"I've got a psychic back at my c-camp," Mike was trying to think of a solution, "we're going to knock you out and teleport you to the hospital in Viridian."
"Knock me out?" The man protested.
"We're helping him?" The question came from both Farran and the boy behind him.
"Are any of these Pokémon actually yours?" Mike pointedly ignored the remark.
"The purple one is mine," he blurted out, "just that one. And it's really valuable. It's my starter."
Mike went over to Rodger and held out his hand. The boy pulled the purple Pokéball out of the hat and handed it to Mike, who looked it over. There was a small 'M' on the front, seated between two pink patches. He placed it in to the man's pocket after a moment, then returned his attention to the criminal.
"Caito, go and get Babe for me." The Ninetales barked before bolting back towards the camp. There were a few tense minutes of silence before the Grumpig appeared next to them, looking up at the trainer.
"What do you want me to do?" Babe asked, looking at the man like he was absolute filth.
"Knock him out and get him to Viridian City," Mike began, "he has a broken rib or two and Caito chewed up his hands and wrists pretty bad. He needs a doctor. Can you do that for me?"
"Do you want to know exactly who he is first?" Mike looked up at the man, who was looking back at him fearfully. His day must have been hellish. Mike's hadn't been much better.
"No," Mike decided, "I'm going to t-trust him. I'm not gonna press charges, either. But who d-do you work for?"
"Team Rocket," the man grunted out, which came as a surprise to Mike, "Giovanni may be gone, but the Rockets live forever."
"And if I ever catch you wearing their logo again," Mike patted the gun in his pocket, "you won't."
Using that as a cue, Babe flicked his hands and the man went limp in Farran's arms. The Aggron dropped him in to a heap as the pig made his way over to him. A second later, and they were gone.
"Nice line," Farran commented with a nod, "no stutters, either." Mike gave a shrug, releasing a breath that he felt like he had been holding in forever. Remembering what had just happened, he began to look Farran over for a bullet hole. The Iron Armor Pokémon turned himself to show some of his back plates. And the large dent where the bullet had ricocheted. "I was on all fours chasing you, so I got pretty lucky."
"Full mobility?" Farran twisted and turned at Mike's question.
"Seems so," the Aggron affirmed.
"I have never seen anything so big move so fast," commented Rodger from behind them. Mike felt his self esteem crash down, but Rodger quickly noticed what he had said, "oh, no, I meant your lizard thing! Honest!"
"You were bookin', though." Farran patted Mike on the shoulder as his Grumpig reappeared in front of them.
"He's at the hospital, I woke him up and disappeared as soon as I made sure he was taken care of," Babe reported. Mike gave him a nod of approval before turning towards Rodger.
"Are you alright?" Mike looked him over. He looked scared, angry, tired, but physically unharmed.
"I'm fine, but why didn't you take him to the cops instead?" Rodger looked at Mike like he was stupid, then verbalized the look, "are you stupid or something?"
"I didn't want t-to ruin his life," Mike admitted, "if we took him to the cops, he would have g-gone away for a long time. Assault with a deadly weapon, theft, attempted m-m-murder…" Mike was very aware of the weight of the weapons in his pocket. "say you made a really bad decision, wouldn't you want a chance to fix it?"
"Well, yeah," Rodger admitted.
"And I gave him his chance." Mike took a deep breath, trying to return his heart rate to normal before he continued, "now, come on, you're camping with us tonight. Don't lose our Pokémon, how many balls are there?"
"Three now."
"Alright, remember that number. Let's get back to camp, then, we'll sort out who belongs to who."
What Mike had felt like he had covered in seconds actually turned out to be a decent walk. It took them five or ten minutes to get back to camp, and the sun had set by the time the affair was over. When they pushed through the last of the grassy bushes, Kaitlyn and Mac were admiring a messy pile of sticks in the fire pit and trying very hard not to look worried. Mac noticed them first, and immediately gave a squeal of joy as he began to waddle his way towards his trainer. Kaitlyn let out a sigh of relief herself, standing up and jogging over to meet them. She stopped a few feet short, noticing the new boy in their company.
"You leave, I hear a gunshot, and you come back with him," Kaitlyn folded her arms as she looked Rodger up and down, "what exactly happened that warranted bringing him back to camp?"
"Some Team Rocket guy tried to steal our Pokémon!" Rodger couldn't have said it better. Mike nodded at Kaitlyn's gaping mouth. She seemed to have a habit of doing that.
"But," Kaitlyn fumbled with the idea, "but the Rockets… Red disbanded them months ago, Giovanni even told him-"
"Where I come from, we p-put criminals in to prisons instead of letting them pinky-p-promise ten-year-olds that they won't come back," Mike had just about reached his limit for the day, and was now fluctuating wildly between extreme relief and extreme irritation. But he also knew that naïveté wasn't something to keep for long. According to himself, at least.
"Caito, get the fire going," Mike ordered as he lead the way back to the campsite. There was a coughing bark that sent a spray of white hot embers in to the fire pit, and the kindling caught as the three trainers seated themselves on the log bench. Roger began to explain what had happened before Mike had shown up: How the man had found him trying to set up camp and pulled a gun on him, catching the Dratini with an Ultra Ball at gunpoint, and the Magneton that had shown up and tried to zap the assailant. How the man had moved to pull out a ball before Rodger was blinded by Magnus' signal. Mike took over at the point where he was coming in to the scene. The gunshot, the exchange of the weapon, the body slam, the confiscation, squeezing the man for information, the ridiculous choice of fake name, and letting him have his second chance. Rodger would embellish on the action as he saw fit, while Farran only interrupted whenever Mike had a hard time stuttering out a word.
"And s-so," Mike took the black hat from Rodger, placed it on his lap, and fished out one of the Pokéballs, "we got our Pokémon back from him. And an extra, I suppose. We'll turn it in when w-we get to town." He rolled the first Pokéball around in his fingers. It was a plain Ultra Ball, completely devoid of any sort of markings, and brand new. Mike maximized the ball and held it out to the side of the fire. There was a glow of light, and a serpentine Pokémon took shape.
"Baha!" exclaimed Rodger, leaping up from his seat and embracing his Dratini tightly. The blue dragon squirmed for a moment, obviously surprised, before wrapping itself around its master and resting its head contentedly on Rodger's shoulder. Trainer and starter reunited, the boy returned to his seat on the log.
"Wasn't he in a Luxury Ball?" Mike asked, remembering seeing it at the lab.
"The guy broke it and re-captured Bahamut so that he couldn't be traced back to me," Rodger spoke after a moment, pressing his face in to the blue body of his starter. The Dratini made a content noise that was equally soothing to the rest of them.
"Which explains why they're all Ultra Balls," Mike thought aloud, fishing out the next one. He maximized it and summoned out the contents again, and another serpentine Pokémon took shape. This one, however, was a bit bigger than the Dratini, and began to hiss as soon as it materialized.
"Ekaannsss!" The snake reared up, its yellow eyes catching the firelight. It was definitely doing a decent job of intimidating the group: it was down-right terrifying. The rattle on its tail began to buzz angrily as Mike recalled it and stuffed the ball in to his pocket.
"Must have been that guy's Pokémon." Rodger's words made the gears in Mike's head begin to spin.
"He took his starter with him," Mike spoke, "and it's in an Ultra Ball as well. He probably stole it from one of the trainers earlier today. Did any of them get an Ekans?"
"Nope," Kaitlyn replied with a frown.
"One was offered, I think," Rodger offered himself.
"Well, either way, we're down to Magnus now. Better let him out and explain what happened." Mike took the last ball out of the hat and shook it out. He looked down at Little Mac, who had been eyeing the hat since they had shown up. Mike reached over and dropped the hat on his head. It slid down the Poliwag's back and settled quite nicely over him. Mike thought the paper-boy look suited him. He maximized the last Ultra Ball with a smile, glad to have Magnus back safe and sound.
What he released, however, wasn't Magnus.
"Dewey!" Kaitlyn exclaimed, jumping off the bench and giving the bewildered Poliwag a hug before she could realize that he was slimy. Dewey looked frightened, and thoroughly beaten up. There was even a chunk missing from his tail. As Kaitlyn looked over Dewey to make sure he was okay, a general feeling of unease settled over everyone else.
"That sh-sh-should have b-b… b-b-been…" Mike searched his brain for what might have happened. What could have possibly gone wrong. The purple ball. The purple ball that he had given back to the man.
"What k-k-kind of p-p-pokéball did Jonathan use to c-catch my M-m-muh…" Mike couldn't even force it out.
"I couldn't see it, the thing used a Flash attack right before he disappeared," Rodger exclaimed, "how am I supposed to know?"
Mike put his fingers to his lips and blew sharply three times. Goomba was still missing, too. He didn't want to be three Pokémon down. However, it only took a few moments before Goomba was back. He was all riled up, too: head snapping from place to place, eyes on the move, bouncing from one foot to another.
"Breloom, bre bre loom-loo bre-" Goomba explained, but Mike cut him off.
"Magnus is gone," Mike couldn't believe what he was saying. Or how trusting he had been. "I just wanted you back. We have Dewey. But Magnus- If you saw his signal, why didn't you come!"
Goomba retreated, fearful of Mike's sudden mood swing, "Breloo brel bree!"
Mike took a deep breath. "You're right," he admitted, "you didn't know. But he's gone now! I need you and Babe to go back to Viridian. Find him, get Magnus back!"
"Why aren't you coming with us?" Babe's question made Mike want to recall his order, but he wondered about Kaitlyn and Rodger. Would they be okay to spend the night, alone, in a now very frightening area? They would worry about being robbed the entire night, even if Mike left his team with them. And Mike wasn't going to chase after this guy with only two team mates.
"I have to stay with these guys," Mike said hurriedly, "it's just easier this way. I can't take them all with me, and I would just slow you down. Find that man! He's hurt, he can't have gotten far. I don't care if you have to kill him-" Babe flinched at the idea, while Goomba went rigid with the seriousness of it, "but I want Magnus back. If you can't find him by midnight or so... Just find him, okay?"
"Yes, sir," Babe replied, the two Pokémon making their way towards each other and vanishing as soon as they made contact. Mike immediately began to pace, running his fingers through his messy hair, pulling as if the pain would bring Magnus back. He couldn't believe he had been so stupid. He had placed Magnus back in to that man's pocket without a second thought. What kind of Pokéball was that, anyways? Magnus was incredibly strong for how long it had been training. And it didn't even struggle. Mike didn't even notice that he was yelling until he needed to breathe again, completely oblivious to how furious he was or how upset he must look. Kaitlyn and Rodger could do nothing but watch, each one of them embracing their own previously stolen Pokémon and trying to understand his pain.
"Mike," Farran placed his claws on Mike's shoulders, turning him around and pulling him in for a hug. "Babe and Goomba will have Magnus home in no-time," he soothed as Mike pressed his cheek against his cold, smooth stomach, "it was an honest mistake. Being so trusting is what makes you an amazing person."
"I don't feel amazing," Mike mumbled. He didn't feel much of anything at this point.
"But think about how amazing you were today," Farran rubbed Mike's back, gently scratching and gently comforting, "you went toe-to-toe with an armed Rocket."
"With you and Caito's help."
"You body-slammed a guy."
"… Okay, yeah, that was kinda cool," Mike admitted, smiling slightly.
"And you gave him a second chance. Which was incredibly awesome of you, despite what he did with it." Farran pushed Mike away from him so he could look him in the eyes, "if that doesn't say what an awesome dude you are, I don't know what does."
"Thanks, Farran," Mike spoke after a moment, smiling up at his team mate. He reached up and tickled his chin with his good hand before falling in to a full hug.
"Okay, that was adorable," Kaitlyn spoke, causing Mike to laugh, "you two are the cutest things ever."
"Well, the day can't get much worse, right?" As soon as Rodger had said it, both Mike an Kaitlyn began to swear at him profusely. After a few minutes of silence, and sitting in the Aggron's comforting cold grip, Mike finally felt as if they had averted the curse that Rodger had given them.
That was, until his phone rang.
Mike didn't bother to look at the caller as he pulled out the phone, flicked it open, and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?"
"Hey, Mike," Mike felt the blood drain from his face as Rodger's curse took effect. He didn't respond, as any and all expressions he had for the next few weeks had been spent. "Uhm… is this a good time?"
"Yes, Bertha," Mike sighed as he pushed himself from Farran's arms. His entire team, even Mac, was looking at him with worry. "You have the most impeccable timing."