DISCLAIMER: Pokémon is owned by Nintendo, this story was made for non-profit use only.
INFO: Go to my Pokémon forum or my FanFiction profile for updates on my Pokémon stories.
Chapter 11
Tesla's breakfast was an energy drink, a large bottle filled with bright yellow liquid. Hipp said he had to drink all of it. The old Pikachu sipped it first, it tasted like flat lemonade. He downed the contents into his stomach within half an hour and handed Hipp the empty bottle, when she asked how the energy drink was Tesla simply shrugged, "Sour, but not unbearable."
Just as the day was getting started, the otolaryngologist had arrived. He was an older gentleman with graying hair. Tesla instantly liked him when he saw him, apparently this man had a lot of patience. His name was Dr. Ricardo, he never said his first name. Hipp led Tesla to a room where Dr. Richardo sat the old Pikachu on the table, "Lay down for me, please," he said.
Tesla laid on his side as Dr. Richardo pulled a paper sheet over him, "I've never worked on a Pikachu before," he said, "so bear with me."
"Take your time, Doc." said Tesla.
"You can talk?"
"My trainer taught me a long time ago."
All conversation ceased from there. Dr. Richardo pulled out his ocular scope, attached to the end was a pair of alligator clips for grabbing the ear wax. He insert it into Tesla's ear and began to work. The old Pikachu almost fell asleep as Dr. Richardo rooted around in his ear canal, he could feel the alligator clips tug and pull against the buildup of earwax. First pulling off bits and pieces, then big chunks. Time passed as Dr. Richardo managed to dislodge the ball of earwax. At the moment he removed it, his hearing increased three times.
Wow, he thought, I can hear!
After cleaning out bits of remaining earwax, Dr. Richardo turned Tesla over and worked on the other ear. When he pulled out the plug, the world was filled with sound he hadn't heard in years.
"That was a lot of earwax," said Dr. Richardo.
Tesla grabbed his ears and cringed, "Please, not so loud!"
"Not so used to the sensitivity, huh?"
"My ears were sensitive enough. By the way, what is that humming in the background?"
"That's the air conditioner." said Dr. Richardo.
Tesla raised an eyebrow, "It is that loud? Oh damn, I dread what the AC in the Red Rock Hotel sounds like. This AC sounds like a freight train!"
As Tesla stepped out of the hall, he constantly pressed his ears. When Hipp tried to speak to him, he cupped a hand over her mouth, "Shhh," he said, "Not so loud, the walls echo like crazy."
Hipp gently pulled Tesla's hand away, "Let's step out for a moment," she whispered, "and gets some fresh air."
Nurse Joy looked up from the reception desk, "Don't hurt yourself, Tesla," she warned, "I hate to see you come back with a gash in your head."
"Don't you worry about me," Tesla said with a smile, "I'll be fine."
"You know I don't like this one bit, Tesla. But if it's for your little Pichu, then I hope she does alright."
. . .
Outside, Wotter casually leaned against a lightpole, pretending to read a newspaper. He had seen spy movies where spies would use local newspapers to disguise their espionage, sometimes they would cut holes over the eyes of faces and peer through them. Anyone on the other side wouldn't notice, a casual observer would only see an average guy reading a newspaper.
Wotter managed to get a hold of the latest issue of the Vegas City Times. He couldn't read some of the sentences, though he recognized the more simple words. Wotter tried pronouncing some of the words in his head, even moving his lips to speak it. He only succeeded in giving himself a headache.
Smugleaf knows how to read this sh*t, damn I hate literature!
The Discipline Pokémon shifted his gaze over the pictures. Not much interest him. There was the Faraday Power Tournament the humans were talking about, Wotter wondered about dropping this in the next report. Hopefully he didn't have to write it. Let Smugleaf draft the damn report. Besides, she enjoys writing more than any other PRA operative he knows. The book-smart Nobark Westinghouse couldn't bring himself in using a typewriter, or a computer, or anything that had to do with buttons with symbols on them. Wotter tried to block it out of his mind, refocusing on his objective.
Sure enough the old pissball was coming out, on two legs as always. Wotter grit his teeth as he watch the Pikachu walk down the sidewalk with the Audino. Good golly, that Pikachu had been around humans more than Pokémon. He even moves like humans, the way he moves his hands and the way he says his words show outstanding maturity. Wotter dared a peak over the newspaper as the two Pokémon passed by. The Pikachu's goggles glanced over him, then raised an eyebrow.
Wotter buried his face back into the newspaper, half-pretending to read its articles.
. . .
An alarm bell went off in Tesla's head, he silenced it and groaned, "Do you ever feel like you're being watched?"
"Sometimes," said Hipp, "Why?"
"Cause I swear I've seen that Dewott before, but I just couldn't remember."
"There's a lot of Dewotts in Vegas City."
"Yeah, but I think I keep seeing the same one."
Nothing screamed "I'm a spy!" louder than leaning against a light-pole while reading the newspaper. No doubt the Dewott had glanced at him, even giving him a disgruntled look. True, all Dewotts look angry most of the time. But this Dewott clearly was frustrated, the way he was gripping the newspaper with his nose dipped into it. Tesla wondered if he was a forgotten rival from his Westinghouse days, he had pissed off a lot of Pokémon back in the day but how often do they hold a grudge this long? It couldn't be that Oshawott that he'd kicked the crud out of, no way he evolved from being horribly injured. Besides, he broke its wrist and the Dewott had no cast. So it wasn't that Pokémon.
"Don't think too much over it, Tesla," advised Hipp, "Just focus on the fresh air."
"You mean the stale smell of asphalt and rotting garbage we call fresh air? Sure, why not?"
. . .
Volta couldn't sleep for the rest of the night, even with Pikachu by her side she couldn't seem to catch even a little Zs. She couldn't stop thinking of Tesla, stuck in the Pokémon Center, maybe on the verge of dying. The Tiny Mouse Pokémon lost control of her bladder, and that wasn't the worst part. That following morning, she simply sat up and stared at the wall. She didn't feel like doing anything today, a part of her wanted to sleep but the discomfort in her chest won't let her relax. As Ash and his friends got up and get dressed, they didn't notice her distress until after they put their shoes on.
"Volta didn't get enough sleep last night," said Iris, "Look, her eyes are sunken in."
Ash picked up Volta and stroke her head, "Don't worry, Volta, we're here to help you."
"Sure, you are." Volta said sarcastically, another trait she picked up from the old Mouse Pokémon.
She wasn't hungry for waffles or cereal, her appetite wasn't feeling it. Though Volta drank her entire milk carton, she was extremely thirsty. Everyone around the table just looked at her, their concerns steadily growing.
"You gotta have something other than milk, Volta," said Cilan, "You're still growing."
Volta just looked at Cilan like he was a stranger, then turned back to her cooling waffle. She cut out a piece and chew it up, it tasted like a kitchen sponge. When she swallowed it down, it grind against her esophagus like it was sandpaper, then dropped into her stomach like a lead weight.
She couldn't have another bite.
"Tesla." she whimpered under her breath.
"Yeah, Volta!?" Tesla's voice called out from the edge of the room.
Everyone turned and saw Tesla approach, an Audino following behind him. Volta's eyes went big. She jumped out of her chair and ran for Tesla, she leaped up into his arms and Tesla gave her a big hug, "Tesla," she cried, "I missed you! I missed you! I missed you! Please tell me you're alright!?"
"I'm fine, Volta," said Tesla, "I have to pull a few strings to get out, the agreement was I had to have an Audino follow me around everywhere. And boy, she can't take her eyes off me."
The Audino blushed, barely grinning a smile.
"Volta," said Tesla, "This is Hipp, I'm going to be putting my life in her hands when the time comes."
Volta leaped out of Tesla's arms and jumped into Hipp's, "Oh you're so adorable!" the Hearing Pokémon cheered.
The Tiny Mouse Pokémon crawled up to her shoulder and whispered into her ear, "Don't let him drink alcohol," she warned, "Don't even let him get near anything with alcohol in it, I've seen him drink mouth wash one time."
"He's on a short leash, Volta. No way he won't fart without me knowing about it."
Hipp shot a finger at Tesla, "You're testing me, Tesla?"
Tesla grinned his rotten teeth, "Testing you on what?"
"You know, I've heard that toot."
"Well, Med's fart was anything beyond silent."
Hipp broke down laughing, she hugged Volta and buried her face into her chest, muffling the laughs.
"You're in good spirits today, Tesla." said Ash.
"Very good spirits." said Pikachu.
"The Audinos were that comforting," said Tesla, "No wonder my trainer gotten a hold of one."
Tesla turned to Volta, "Alright, Volta. You're ready for training?"
"Hold on," said Volta, "I gotta finish my waffle first!"
"Well hurry up, we don't have much time today."
Volta jumped out of Hipp's arms and climbed back into her chair, she added a load of syrup onto the waffle and chowed down like there was no tomorrow, "Wow," said Iris, "She was merely picking at it earlier."
"She couldn't sleep last night either," said Cilan, "She was up from dusk to dawn."
Tesla shrugged, "Happens to all of us one time or another, but I'm sure that wouldn't be a problem."
. . .
For hours he ran Volta hard, the hardest he ever pushed her. The old Pikachu had Volta ran the kilometer again, she completed it without throwing up or complaining. After a quick rest, he had her do one hundred sit-ups, then one hundred pull-ups. Volta was so determined that it surprised everyone that she hadn't given up yet. The Tiny Mouse Pokémon was more exhausted than before, Tesla had her drink a full bottle of energy drink. She could barely keep it down, Volta bubbled some of it back up as Tesla wiped her mouth with a towel.
Concerned of Tesla's methods, Cilan almost intervened when Volta signaled she was fine. She hadn't thrown up. So far.
Hipp was more concerned than everyone else, the little Pichu was pushing herself to the breaking point. She spat and coughed as she struggled to get air into her lungs. Tesla patted her on the back, then hold her up, "Don't breathe too hard, you'll dry your throat."
Volta nodded and tried breathing through her nose, only to cough out snot. She spat the mucus on the concrete and muttered, "I don't think my nose is keeping up."
Tesla felt her head with the back of his hand. Volta held still for a moment, holding her breath, "Okay, we gotta cool you down."
The old Pikachu carried Volta into the restroom – the family room – and propped her in the sink. He turned on the cold tap, Volta yelped as ice-cold water poured over her belly. Tesla plugged the sink. As it filled up he scooped up cold water and rubbed it over her chest and back. The Pichu shivered down to her tail as her teeth chattered like a typewriter, "Try to relax, Volta," said Tesla, "You'll constrict your blood if you shiver."
Volta glanced at Tesla for a moment, then took a deep breath.
"Now you got nerves of steel right there," said Tesla, "Irvin had me swim in a near-frozen lake one time, and boy that was cold! If you go diving into a refrigerated lake, you'll come out fine as a fiddle."
"Tesla?"
"Yes, Volta?"
"I have to pee."
"Can you pee in there?"
Volta shook her head, "The cold water won't let me."
The sink high enough where it reached Volta's collarbone, Tesla drained out some of the water before plugging it back up, "Why?"
"My bladder's locked up by the-"
"Then unlock it, you've got to relax. You're going to get pummeled hard in the Faraday Power Tournament, if you relax you won't take as much damage when stiff."
At this point, Tesla wasn't sure what he was doing. But he spoke true. Having the body lock up before receiving a damaging blow would rupture blood vessels or break several bones. Relaxing makes the body more flexible, Tesla heard a rumor that a guy was tossed 200 meters in the air in a tornado and hit the ground hard. He got up with only scrapes and bruises, cause he was relaxed the whole time. How was he relaxed? Tesla wondered if he was unconscious. Yes, he was unconscious! When he got knocked out, his muscles relaxed, and so his body flopped like a rag doll when the tornado picked him up and spat him out. If true, then that showed how far a person's stamina could really go.
"Try to pee, Volta."
Volta held head low and clenched her teeth. Tesla reached up and grabbed her jaw, "Relax everything," he said in Pokémon speech, "Down to your tail!"
The Tiny Mouse Pokémon breathed and exhaled, she sat there as if she was in a trance. Tesla waited for 5 minutes. Just before Tesla pulled Volta out of the sink, a cloud of yellow urine formed around her legs, "There," she said, Volta held her head up and looked at Tesla, "I did it."
Tesla unplugged the sink and pulled Volta out, "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Calm and . . . what is the word that starts with an S?"
"Serene?"
"Yes, that word. Serene."
The old Pikachu wiped Volta down with paper towels, then had her sipped some more energy drink, "Ready for more?"
Volta eagerly nodded, "Yeah, I'm ready!"
. . .
"Are you sure you know what you're doing, Tesla?" Ash asked as they head back to the Red Rock Hotel.
It was getting late, and Volta was sore to the core. Tesla was going to carry her back but Hipp carried her instead, saying he would "strain himself." The old Mouse Pokémon looked up at Ash and shrugged, "Yes, I do. I have decades worth of experience."
"You made Volta ran so hard that her leg cramped," said Iris, "I couldn't bare watching her scream like that!"
"Me neither!" added Axew.
Just an hour before, Tesla had Volta ran another kilometer. Just near the end of her run, Volta's thigh locked and she went down screaming. Tesla was by her side in seconds, he grabbed her leg and vigorously flexing it as he commanded her to move it. The cramp relaxed itself within seconds, but the soreness it left behind was all but gone. When everyone expected Tesla to call it a day, he had Volta ran an extra lap. She had done it without question.
"Why push her so hard, Tesla?" Ash asked again.
"Why?" Pikachu added.
"If she's going to battle against other Pokémon," said Tesla, "She first have to battle herself. What I'm saying is that she had to know her strengths and weaknesses, most importantly, she has to know her limits."
"You've pushed her to the breaking point." said Ash.
"Actually, I pushed her beyond that. Her leg cramps says otherwise."
"What I want to know is why she didn't complain," said Hipp, "I've never met a baby Pokémon who back-talks or complain, she's so loyal and hardy!"
"Volta's been bred for following orders, Hipp," said Tesla in Pokémon speech, "Do you ever back-talk when Nurse Joy gives you a command?"
Hipp shook her head, "No."
"The breeders built that into your system, same thing for my family when they were in captivity. They were bred to obey, enough said."
The group made it back to the hotel room, when they got in Volta was starting to wake up, "Tesla?" she asked.
"Yes, Volta?" he asked?"
"What's going to happen to you tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, they're going to do a liver transplant. Once they're done sorting through the cells, they're going to add it to the printer and print out the organ. The transplant would take place once the print-job is done. I'm going to be sedated throughout the process. The doctors would then cut me open, pull out what's left of my bad liver, then stitch the new one in its place. Simple as that. However, if something goes wrong. I'm dead, no questions asked."
"Sh*t." Tesla swore when he realized he said that last part.
Volta broke down in tears, Tesla picked her up and rocked her, "The chance of me dying is pretty low," said Tesla, "There's emergency procedures in place to be sure of that."
"Please, don't die! Don't die! Promise me that you won't die!"
"Volta, I am not the one you should be pleading to. This is out of my control."
Tesla sat down on the bed and propped her next to him, "I've been cut open and stitched up so many times, I've lost count of it all. I'm no stranger in the operating room. Heck, I've been in surgery so many times that I've updated textbooks about Pikachu biology."
Hipp asked, "After you get the transplant, will you go back to drinking?"
Tesla just looked at her, "According to my track record, I might have a beer or two a few weeks after the surgery. Maybe after a few months, I'll get downright drunk. If something goes badly for me – which always does – I expect to get drunk a few hours later."
"You sound like you don't wanna live."
The old Pikachu got down and sat his hand on her shoulder, "By the time you reach my age, most of the people and Pokémon you've cared for will be dead. I'm 107 years old, I have done all what can possibly be done. The world I see through my eyes is tedious and unfun, I dread every minute living in it."
He then turned to Volta, "Maybe someday," said Tesla as he picked her up, "the world would brighten for me. But right now, family comes first. Get a lot of sleep tonight, Volta. Sleep in if you want, while I'm out cold practice controlling your electricity. Ash and Pikachu would help you on that."
Volta nodded, "Okay."
The Tiny Mouse Pokémon kissed Tesla in the cheek and crawled up on the bed, then he turned to Ash, "Will you be there after I come out of surgery?"
"Yes, of course." said Ash.
"We will, Tesla." said Pikachu.
"When I regained consciousness, you're going to see me in a state where I've mostly regressed to my Pikachu behavior and instincts. Whatever vulgar language comes out of my mouth, hopefully will be in Pokémon speech. But if it's in human," Tesla giggled, "You might wanna consider leaving the room when that happens. If you do leave the room, I'll be pleading you to stay and might try to use guilt. Trust me, I've been through it before. Every time they sedate me, it happens."
Ash nodded, "I'll keep that in mind."
"When you talk in your sleep," said Volta, "Half of it would be about you giving Polly a-"
"Volta!" Tesla barked.
Tesla and Volta stared at each other for a moment, then broke down in laughter.
. . .
"How did you find him, Wotter?" Smugleaf asked.
"Scent trails and a good pair of eyes. You know, the usual."
Smugleaf and Wotter watched as the goggle-wearing Pikachu and the Audino walked out of the Red Rock Hotel. They sat comfortably on the roof of a building, just across the street from the hotel. The setting sun shined on their backs, casting their shadow on the face of the hotel. They weren't worried about someone noticing them, the shadows were too high up for anyone to notice.
The PRA operatives pulled away from the edge for a moment and sat back, "So what's wrong with that pissball," Wotter asked, "Why is that Audino following him around?"
"She's wearing the nurse cap," said Smugleaf, "I think she's his handler. Something must have come up that required the Pikachu to stay at the Vegas City Pokémon Center for the night, and it's so serious that they had an Audino follow him in case he goes out."
"Good educated guess," said Wotter, he peaked over the edge and gave the Red Rock Hotel a second look, "I think that's all for today, you wanna go after Barry Rodriguez now?"
"Sure, why not?"
Smugleaf and Wotter head back to the safehouse, the dead-drop spike they had fetched early this morning sat on the weathered wooden desk. Smugleaf grabbed it and opened it up, a small rolled up letter sealed with scotch tape fell out. The Snivy broke the scotch tape seal and a folded yellow card fell out of it, Smugleaf read the letter, "Here is a photo of Barry Rodriguez, his address is written on the back of the card. For this hit, you'll be provided with silenced firearms and ammunition. Go to these coordinates here for further instructions. Signed, Nobark Westinghouse."
Wotter groaned, "Great, a f*cking scavenger hunt."
"Oh, cheer up, Wotter," said Smugleaf, "Nobark's puzzles takes our minds off things!"
"Easy for you to say."
Wotter's geographic skills came in handy. It was just a kilometer outside of the city, opposite of where they burned the body. The sun had set by the time they reached the secret location. Under Smugleaf's flashlight, they found what they were looking for. There was a small pile of stones, piled up between a tree and a bush. Smugleaf centered her flashlight for the pile as Wotter pulled off the stones. Underneath was a sealed trash bag, and underneath it was a wooden crate, "Shine that flashlight closer, Smugleaf." insisted Wotter.
Smugleaf lowered the flashlight over the crate as Wotter pulled it out of the hole. The lid wasn't nailed or anything, it was just sitting there. Wotter simply slid the cover off. Both Pokémon grinned. Inside, snuggled in white cloth, were two pairs of H&K MP5s. With them, 2 suppressors and 10 magazine clips. Tucked in a corner were two boxes of 9mm ammunition, and with them, another note. As Wotter went through the gear, Smugleaf tore open the letter.
She read the letter aloud while keeping her voice at a minimum, "Barry Rodriguez had suspected one of our undercover operatives of foul play. We have evidence that his relatives were aware of us, and so we must send them a message. Use the weapons provided to execute Barry in his own home. Leave the body there, but pick up all your brass casings. Recommend that you set your weapons at semi-auto and aim for the . . . medulla oblongata."
"The kill spot," said Wotter, "You know what that is?"
"It's a tiny bulb at the end of the brain stem, just behind the cerebellum. It's responsible for all involuntary and automatic functions. I stabbed Trevor there last time, that's why he didn't scream when he went down."
Wotter chuckled, "You sure are smart Smugleaf, compared to the half-wits at base."
Smugleaf smiled, "And you're strong and handsome, with just as much wisdom."
The two looked at each other for a moment, then Wotter asked, "So where's the address?"
Smugleaf held up Barry's photo, "Right here," she said, "Let's get to it."
Wotter and Smugleaf assembled their weapons. They loaded 6 magazines with the 9mm rounds before screwing on the suppressors, "Sub-sonic rounds, hopefully." said Smugleaf.
"I'd be damned if they were."
As Nobark suggested, they set their MP5s to semi-auto. They test-fired their weapons by taking potshots at a nearby oak tree. The sound gave off a loud ping that stung both Pokémon's ears, but nonetheless it didn't boom for flashed, "It sounds a lot like a BB gun," said Smugleaf, "and a particularly loud one too."
"It was too much too hope for sub-sonic rounds," said Wotter, "But at least the suppressor made one f*ck of a difference."
Wotter packed the crate up and buried it back in the hole, after making sure the stones weren't too conspicuous both PRA operatives head back into the city. The face of their target burning in their minds.
. . .
Barry was a large man, his solid frame made up with an even balance of fat and muscle. But nonetheless, Barry Rodriguez was a gentle man. 35 years old and at the height of his career, he never gave much thought of the horrid things that lay in the shadows.
In his mind, he was the shadows.
Rodriguez had built himself up around literature, and had published a few stories himself. His latest count: 25 short stories and 7 novels were quite impressive. In his teens, he used to type his manuscripts out on a green screen computer and printing them was like riding a Slowpoke. The latest technology helped explode his career, writing on a white screen with black characters as the printer spat out documents like it was a machine gun going fully auto. Most of his novels involved horror, sometimes sick horror.
In almost all of his stories, the protagonist was a Pokémon. Usually a cute looking one that was very small and very emotional. Some of them would die in the end, often in the most unexpected – yet well hinted – deaths humanly imaginable. For the Pokémon protagonists that do survive, they would be left distraught, sometimes insane, for the rest of their days. If one would read his latest novel, Fury, one would notice how the protagonist – a Minchino – reacted so realistically while trapped in its cage as it was being stabbed by its psychotic trainer. Barry based that mediocre scene from a photo he saw on the internet years ago. He still had it, tucked away in his box of scraps. He had thought of getting it out again to help better explain what he was trying to say, but thought better of it. The photo was just too graphic to be viewed twice.
He had to give some credit to Danny Curtis, the illustrator who painted his covers. So much black, red, and white paint was used that each color could fill a large bathtub, "The other colors couldn't even fill a liter," Danny also added, "I didn't even use a cup of yellow paint."
The covers were so horrifying that it attracted hundreds, if not thousands of readers, in the first few weeks. By around the end of the year, half a million copies were sold. The hefty royalty check helped Barry redecorate his house. He made sure he avoided anything that was red though, the color still reminded him of his novels.
Barry was just coming home. His house, a modest one-story building with white sidings, was just coming up. Just as he pulled up on his bicycle, he noticed something was wrong. The porch light was out. Had it popped? Barry locked his bike against the porch column and approached the light. He reached up and unscrewed the bulb and examined it. The bulb was an LED fixture, a very efficient and highly expensive light. It was a little dusty from the weather, but it showed no visible signs it popped. Barry screwed the light back on and unlocked his front door.
Oh, that explains it. The power was out. Barry peaked outside at the neighbors, their lights were still on. Looks like a breaker had tripped, again. The breaker was a little outdated, and ever since the power company boosted their voltage it was always a little too much for it to handle. What was it, the third time the breaker popped this week? Heck, probably it was the kitchen breaker. That always trip. Maybe it was because of that refrigerator, it was so old that it was around since his father was a kid.
Barry grabbed his flashlight and made his way for the breaker box. It was situated in the closet of the laundry room, tucked well away from the water heater. The beam of his flashlight bobbed as he walked into the room. He opened up the panel and shined the flashlight over the breakers. Something wasn't right. All the breakers were turned to the off position, including the main one. None of them were in the trip position. Someone must had-
A sharp crack bounced across the walls. Barry smashed face-first into the panel before dropping to the floor.
What just happened? He thought.
He tried to move his arm, but it remained motionless. Barry panicked, he couldn't move anything. He couldn't even breathe. Barry tried to scream, but he couldn't even move his lips. He was paralyzed down to his core.
Then there was some voices, Pokémon voices. It sounded like a Dewott and a Snivy. Their voices sounded wrong, and sinister. Though he couldn't understand the conversation, the tone was clear enough. They were satisfied, sickly satisfied. Probably talking about him. What did they want with him? What did he even do!?
WHY!? He thought, WHAT IS GOING ON!? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING!?
The voices soon faded as Barry slipped into unconsciousness, his dying neurons still sparking horror even after brain death.
TO BE CONTINUED...
