Labyrinth of a Faded Past
Despite the late night, Edge had difficulty falling asleep. Perhaps it was because of the caffeine he had consumed. Or perhaps he was just nervous about finding out more about his past. In any event, Fredrick had a procedure lined up for him in the morning. Who was he kidding? He was ridiculously nervous.
Feyera's eyes darted about the dark room focusing on the shadows. The window was open ajar and occasionally a faint night breeze fell upon his face. The soft pillow and sheets were a nice change from the campsites and sleeping bag he had been grown accustomed to sleeping in. Not only was he comfortable, but for once he felt safe. Fredrick was a good man. He was on the same side as Edge. He wanted to bring down the Rockets. It wasn't going to be easy, but perhaps by working with the International Police, Feyera would be able to stop the syndicate from chasing him. It didn't matter what Agent Rallsen, Archer, and Ein had told him. He was being pursued by their organization and he wanted it to end. First, there was the original Sanctum incident two years ago. On his Pokemon journey's first steps, he found the Rockets killed an innocent man in Mount Moon. Following that, he fought Agent Engelhart on the Golden Bridge north of Cerulean. Afterwards he had encountered Braddock and his sadistic partner who had followed him onto the S. S. Anne. When would it end? He thought about Haunter in the Pokemon Tower. Why were the Rockets even there? That was a gravesite! None of this really made any sense. He then thought again about Executive Archer and the mysterious Ein. They were the real threats. Everyone else was just taking orders from superiors.
As he watched the shadows dance in the moonlit room, his eyes slowly closed. He brushed his head against the pillow as he turned on his side. Clasping its feathery softness, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
As the sunshine and birds began chirping from outside, Edge woke up to a quiet apartment. Slipping out of bed, he walked about the guest room. He saw the large bronze clock that read "8:15" in analog. There were a few pictures around the room, all of them containing colorful abstract art. As he leisurely explored the confined space, he heard a knock on the door.
"Come in," Edge said, happy to realize that his voice was back.
Fredrick walked into the room already fully suited up, "Morning, I thought I heard you moving about. How are you feeling today?"
"Much better thank you. I'm not as lethargic"
"You're speaking too! Marvelous."
"Yes," Feyera said as he touched his brow, "I can speak without resorting to telepathy."
"That's wonderful to hear. Can I get you some breakfast?"
Food. He hadn't eaten in a long while. He just wasn't that hungry. Still, the more he thought about it, the more he realized just how starving he actually was. "Yeah, what do you have?"
"There's more coffee, cereal, and some pastries in the kitchen. Let me know when you are finished eating, I'll be reading in my study upstairs."
"Thank you," Feyera said as he walked over to the kitchen.
The kitchen was brightly lit and ultra modern. Edge was happy to see food all set up. He quickly ate a few of the bakery-fresh food. His stomach grumbled loudly as he ate. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he was repulsed by how it tasted. He always made the best, and this was instant.
Bleh. I wish I could have made the coffee today. He had a feeling that it was going to be a long day.
After he was finished, he cleaned up and strolled over to the high-rise apartment's second floor. He climbed up the stairs and found a room filled with bookshelves. Ceiling lighting wasn't even necessary, the room had more windows than any other part of the complex. Not only were there windows on two of the walls but the room had a huge glass top. The morning sunlight was pouring in. It reminded Feyera of a greenhouse.
Edge opened the door and stared at Fredrick as he peacefully sat in a black chair reading a thick book encased in leather bounding and trimmed with gold. Fredrick acknowledged his presence and continued to rub his index finger along passage he was in the midst of reading.
"Fredrick," Edge put his arm over his eyes to block the sunlight, "How on earth do you manage to read in here? It's so bright!"
Fredrick laughed, "Hah hah hah, you think so? Suppose that it is a little brighter in here than most people would use for studying."
"Y—yeah I'll say," Edge said. Dark libraries suited him back when he was in school.
Fredrick softly smiled and took a dark navy satin bookmark from his vest pocket and gently inserted it before closing the book. "Here's the thing though, I've always liked the sunshine. It reveals to us everything with its illumination. Truth. Reality. Perhaps that's just me though. I like to know things."
Feyera felt a strange connection. He wanted the same thing out of life. Especially now. The Pokemon trainer nodded.
"I might be a police agent, but I would be dead if I wasn't well read," the man joked in rhyme.
"Yeah, but doesn't it make you want to go outside?" Feyera asked, squinting.
"I have all day to be outside when I'm working for the International Police. Mornings are the only time I ever get to catch a break. They'll have me in Saffron one minute and on a plane for Mahogany the next. I suppose what I'm getting at is that it's nice to have a sanctuary to be able to retreat to."
"This—This is your sanctuary?"
"Yes." Fredrick tapped a small switch on the side of the chair he sat on and the mechanized curtains drew themselves halfway, slightly dimming the room, "In any event, are you ready?"
Edge stared at the International Police agent, "Umm, yeah…But first…can you tell me more about yourself?"
"What would you like to know?" Fredrick asked him.
"Well…For starters, how did you join the IPF?"
"Hah, the Force treated me well from day one. I had to make a few adjustments once I reached my current position of executive of the Kanto branch, but other than that I've always been happy with serving in the ways that I can."
"You were a pretty good shot with that L3-RAIL," the young trainer said to Fredrick still in awe considering how well the International Police Agent had fired in the face of adversity. The unwieldy weapon seemed to be handled naturally even amid all the chaos.
"Yes," Fredrick chuckled, "there's a first time for everything."
"I wish I was more useful during our escape. I mean I'm a trainer too."
"You were able to defeat a Rocket General. That's no easy feat. You even infiltrated their base and cleared it out to boot! I might be out of a job soon if you keep that up, son."
"Son? I…thanks. But it wasn't all me. I had my psyonics and my Pokemon."
"How many League Badges do you have Mister Feyera?"
Edge had to pause and think. "Four at the moment." His Pokemon Gym challenge seemed miles away.
Fredrick beamed, "Pokemon are spectacular creatures aren't they? Always adapting, always changing, constantly pushing forward their own existence. Evolution is testament to such malleability."
"We do that too though, don't we? This whole building didn't just spring up on its own right? People constructed it!"
Fredrick opened the book in his lap and fingered the page with a callused finger. "Ahem!" he cleared his throat.
"We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,—
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
"What is that some kind of philosophy?" Feyera asked with a smirk. He thought it sounded silly. Archaic even.
"Humph, it's poetry Mister Feyera." Fredrick snapped the large tome shut, grunting in disapproval as he did so. "Such ways of thinking have long been forgotten."
Feyera fidgeted, "Well yeah I mean with the Terminal War and all…"
"It wasn't just the End War; it was a change in mentality. A—tragic shift in demeanor. People lost their will to be people."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Feyera asked scratching his thick head of hair.
Fredrick smiled. "I suppose you are right about buildings."
Feyera looked over out the window with his emerald green eyes.
"But do try and think about it. Our technology does come from older civilizations. We do more rediscovering than inventing. That's just the problem; we've lost the will to create."
"Silph does have an unparalleled R and D program." Feyera thought about Silph and his father who worked for them. Fredrick was rapidly taking on a father-like role, even calling him things like "son". It might have been an expression, but Edge was reading more into it. Fredrick could pass for his father as far as ages went. But where was his actual father? Still offshore? Or in one of those gleaming towers off to the east?
"Mmm. Yes Silph is quite the corporation." Fredrick rubbed his brow.
"You going to give them back that L3-RAIL that the Rocket Executive had?" Feyera asked. Fredrick worked for Silph after all.
Fredrick smiled. "Eventually. I still need it for evidence and safekeeping."
"Evidence?"
"Yes and for 'safekeeping'," Fredrick emphasized.
Edge scratched his head, "So you're a marksman? That's why?"
"A marksman? Nah. I would say that being a crack shot comes with my profession. As a consequence rather than a requirement."
"That makes sense. It came in handy in the Rocket base."
"I could have used my Pokemon but…as you are undoubtedly aware, most Pokemon cannot stand up to firearms. Even the ones who can either have tremendously strong hides or psychic powers."
"You train Pokemon?" Feyera exclaimed. The respect he had for Fredrick was growing with each and every passing second.
"Trained," Fredrick corrected. "I was a trainer up until the Great War. I was drafted at the age of twenty-three. I…I lost a lot during that war. Not just from being posted in Orre either. Here on the home-front as well…I lost someone very special to me here in Kanto."
"That was a long time ago though, wasn't it?" asked Feyera.
"Some wounds don't heal in time, Mister Feyera. In any event, Silph took me in after the defeat of Arcturus, and I spent some time working as a detective for their cooperate sector. White collar crime mostly. They had a branch at the time called the Kanto Police, but because of the big push to 'globalize' the program was renamed the International Police Force. Sometimes I forget and still refer to it as the Kanto Police."
"Yeah, I noticed, ha" the trained laughed nervously.
"Eventually, with the rise in criminal organizations such as the Rockets, Silph needed operatives who were versed in the legalities and field expertise. I was chosen after a few of my colleagues had gone before me. Funny how I'm the only one left of the original core four."
Feyera looked startled, "They died?"
"Two of them did, one quit, said the stress was too much. Now I'm the one running the show mostly. I have plenty of subordinates, but sometimes the best man for the job is yourself."
"So you don't really use your Pokemon?"
"That's not entirely correct, you see, I use my Pokemon for things I can't do on my own. No need to push them." Fredrick sighed. "I've pushed myself just as much as any of them have for me in the past. We're…equals in that sense."
Edge was happy to hear this; Fredrick seemed like a role model. He was mildly idolizing him the more and more he found out about his past. "That's good to hear…I wish I could do that for my Pokemon." Edge thought about Lawrence and Jill. He didn't kill them, but could he have saved them by perhaps pushing himself a little more? This question seemed to eat at him from the inside out. No, it wasn't that easy. He couldn't see the future. Just possibilities. He wasn't even that powerful when you took into account his lack of control.
"But that reminds me, for this procedure, I will be calling upon one of my friends from a long time ago. He's a gentle Pokemon, but he'll be able to help you. He's helped me remember things plenty of times. Even the repressed memories."
"How?"
"It's done by putting you into a deep sleep. Dreams reveal the past. Abstract dreams occur when the mind is forced to conjoin memories with its natural creativity. That creative aspect can be overridden by sedating the mind just enough so that it retains a memory with minimal intangible features. You'll get pure memory at that point. I watered it down a lot but essentially that is the procedure. Does that make sense to you?"
"Yes," Edge said. It made enough sense at least. "I think it does."
"So, my Pokemon will be suppressing your mind. I hope that this is okay with you. Your psyonics…they don't have any immune system constructs do they?"
"Uhhh? What?"
"That means no. Ha ha." Fredrick chuckled.
Edge thought about how he may have been initially scared if he never had received Brucie and learned that Pokemon could in fact be friendly. How much he had developed over this short amount of time! "Okay. That's fine Fredrick. I can trust whoever you trust…I'm ready to find out more about who I am!"
"Good." Fredrick took out a Poké Ball strapped to his leather magnum holster and released his Hypno—a Psychic Pokemon. The yellow-skinned Pokemon immediately locked eyes with Feyera and studied him intently. His white mane covered his neck and upper torso with its thick hairs. It gave Edge the same look when you think you know somebody. The raised eyebrow, the observant eye, whatever it was, Edge felt it.
"Okay, just lie down on the couch, and get comfortable," Fredrick suggested. There was a short narrow couch to Edge's left. It reminded him of something you would faint in due to the cushiony supports. Edge walked to it and sat his rear on it before laying back. He adjusted himself and fidgeted nervously.
"I'm ready," he said as he saw his chest start to move quickly up and down. Vision quivered as he looked straight ahead at Fredrick. This quickened breathing was exaggerated by the red shard protruding a few inches out of his sternum.
"Calm down, it will be okay don't worry," said Fredrick.
"I—I'll try."
The man then turned to his Pokemon who was now standing next to Edge, "Easy now Hypno we don't want to put him in a coma, but he does have some psyonic abilities meaning that you might have to be a little more liberal with your Hypnosis." Fredrick motioned to his Pokemon, which complied and began to saturate Edge with a sleep-inducing blast of mental energy.
It was like being dragged down under. He could fight it only for a few moments. He looked from his red shard to Hypno's swinging silver pendulum and back again at the man sitting in front of him. Edge could feel his eyes closing, the darkness engulfed him, and he felt like was entering another body in another world.
A frigid blast air blew in as a team of masked surgeons swung open two large metal doors across the room. Edge, was unable to speak, and subsequently wheeled out on the mobile bed towards the deepest darkest section of this facility. He pasted countless rooms along the way on either side of him.
He couldn't understand the language of the doctors. But he could read their thoughts. They were taking him somewhere to operate on. He wasn't sure why. Maybe something was wrong with him. Maybe he was sick.
Once inside a small white room, Edge looked around and saw in terror the numerous apparatuses and machinery in the room. There was a huge glass window where more people lurked behind. The people moving him rolled him over onto a large metal plate in the center of the room. He felt incredibly lethargic, the same exact way he felt after experiencing a mental burnout. Then he was bolted down to the freezing steel by the same doctors which had transported him here. First, the metal braces where strapped on his extremities, binding him down on his back. They then put another metal brace around his neck, stilling his head motions. As they did this, Edge desperately tried to look down at his body to see his condition. The struggle was in vein, as he tried to break the iron grip of the plating, it only tightened slightly choking him. He felt a needle puncture his left forearm. Then four small adhesive straps placed in a square on his chest. Panic set in causing him to twitch convulsively.
Sensing his apprehension, a short fat doctor nearby ran some anesthesia through the IV line. The cold liquid serum ran up Edge's left arm and he relaxed a fair deal considering what was occurring around him. A tall bearded doctor gasped as he saw how quickly Edge's pulse fell from sedation. He said something in another language. Panicking, Edge wanted to find out what was happening? What were they doing to him? Why?
He wasn't himself, he felt different. Chained to the operating table he could not look and see his body. But he could feel it. Edge's limbs where thinner and that red shard in his chest was still present and pulsating along with his now less-struggling body. He looked over at the doctors; one of the men looked very similar to him. He wore a pure white coat, had amber hair, and stood next to a group of three other men and one female, all adorned in similar apparel.
This particular man in the lab-coat could have been his twin prior to all the changes he had undergone. Possessing his features and those shimmering green eyes were uncannily similar to his own. But he was here, not there! He was on a table strapped down and helpless. He saw the man who looked like him smile as he glanced at the monitor and said something in another language. He wanted to read his thoughts, and in this dream he could still do that.
"If we administer too much anesthesia it'll pass out before we can inject the Progenitor Serum. Eyes need to stay open. Also, run those vitals again, I have studied this species and I don't feel like those numbers are quite right," said the researcher who looked exactly like Chris' twin.
A tall doctor with thick black hair responded to Edge's doppelganger. "Tsk…always so cautious! Where is your sense of adventure? This species always has a higher heart rate. Has to do with their anatomy being centered around the torso."
The doctor pointed to Edge's chest to prove a point to him.
"Progenitor EX won't graft itself unless we get everything right. Vitals need to be linear. That's what went wrong before. All he saying is that we should be careful" spoke the female researcher at his side. Her thick burgundy hair reminded him of Lorelei's.
"Eventually, we will find a suitable host. Have faith. We're improving them. Doing what evolution takes millions of years to do. There will always be loss. Such loss paves the way for progress. There will always be progress," the first man dryly responded. "We're playing a numbers game."
The green-eyed man brushed his bronze hair in a very similar fashion to how Edge would when he was nervous or apprehensive, "Progress can be attained in unexpected ways, Chief."
"Indeed it can. Mutations occur sometimes, like your green eyes for instance. Oculocutaneous albinism two could have been altered in your eyes for any reason, but we'll never know for sure. Will we?" asked the tall thin man with black hair.
"I don't know. Must have got them from my mother's side," the other man said, lowering his gaze to the floor.
"What does it do? Why does it do what it does? Green eyes don't simply exist for the sake of existing. These are the mysteries we seek to unravel. It is a matter of finding purpose in this world," said the lead researcher.
Still squirming about, Edge tried to escape his prison, but the administered tranquilizers were too potent. He darted his gaze about the rest of the room as the doctors continued their pre-operation dealings.
"I don't want to lose this one. It's…different," responded the green-eyed researcher.
"Falling for your experiments now are you?"
The man's face was shocked, "No, it…said something to me, back when we captured it. With its psychic power. It was something important. I can't explain it though…"
"Humph, you forget that we poached this one right here on Penta, an unnatural environment for their species. It already broke the genetic mold. Keep in mind that it is exceptionally powerful and dangerous by being an anomaly. If it were not for the jamming technology, we would be in trouble. However, there is something peculiar about this specimen. It's more driven than any other we have had the pleasure of operating upon. Almost as if it derives meaning beyond its own existence…Perhaps this aspect will help it endure Progenitor."
The green-eyed young man looked over at a struggling Edge and put the clipboard he was holding down as he donned a surgeon's mask, "Just…please make sure you give enough of the regional anesthesia. Twenty-five C.C.s should be appropriate."
"Yes sir," said the red haired doctor.
The operating room had a huge retractable device hanging over a table filled with a myriad of liquids in vials. The centerpiece was Edge's new home for now. He was on a metal table, three-feet off the floor and not clothed due to the amount of blood intended to be spilled upon it was where he lay. The metal braces strapped in his forehead, neck, arms, and legs. Even if he could move, there was no way out. The intravenous needle in his arm was bringing him down. Being confined like this was only the tip of the iceberg. As the numbing sensation wiped him out and his eyes began to close, to his surprise, they were pried open by two slender pieces of metal equipment.
No… Edge was terrified. He was ready to pass out when he saw an enormous needle looming ominously over his eyes.
No. No. No! But cruelly enough, he could not pass out. He saw it, and he saw it move closer, he could not move. His powers were suppressed immeasurably by the recent dose of anesthesia. He could do nothing but watch. It inched steadily closer. Suddenly there were no other people in the room. Just him and this sadistic procedure. He wanted it to just stop. He begged to be put out so that he wouldn't have to endure this. When the needle embedded itself in his right eye, if Edge had been capable of screaming, he would have surely destroyed his vocal chords permanently. Its wide spoke-lined rim, once cold grew moist and warm as it buzzed against his eyeball.
Suddenly fever set in. In complete terror, Edge was utterly obstructed in all possible ways—restrained, paralyzed, and emotionally helpless. The feeling of complete incarceration was the driving force of the experience. Imprisoned in his own psychological terror, he felt as though he had no chance of rescue. His body could not take the mental strain any longer; he was certain that it was all going to end!
Edge Feyera screamed as loud as he could upon waking up.
Gasping for air, he knew it was over as he thrashed forward out of Fredrick's couch.
A rush of air. A deep inhalation. The world was moving again. Edge knew it. He was alive. Opening his eyes, shapes and figures filled his head, some more opaque than others. The heavy eyelids demanded Edge to blink and clear out his tears.
"Feyera, you're fine! It's alright! Only a dream, you're here now back with me!"
Who said that? It sounded like Fredrick.
"Are you okay? Feyera talk to me! What happened?" Fredrick demanded, recalling his Hypno.
He felt his heart beating so quickly and uncontrollably. He looked down to make sure he was still himself. He was.
"I…I…I don't know. It was terrible. Was that really my memory?" the young man stammered.
"Tell me about it and I can help you out, please," Fredrick said. "What happened to you?"
"Right, I was in this research lab setting. I was chained to a table. There were men there in lab-coats and clipboards. The sensations during the dream were incredibly extraphysical. I suffered from a painful procedure and a relentless fever. In the terror, I was utterly obstructed in all possible ways—restrained, paralyzed, and emotionally helpless. The feeling of complete incarceration was the driving force of the experience. Imprisoned in my own psychological terror, I had no chance of rescue," Edge sniffed and cleared his eyes of tears.
"What did they do?"
"They injected a fluid into my eyes," Edge shook as if it had actually just happened even though he was clearly safe now in Fredrick's apartment.
"Go on, tell me more, did the researchers say anything?" asked Fredrick.
"No it was all in another language, but I did make out that the serum was called 'Progenitor'," Edge said.
"Please go on," Fredrick said while nodding vigorously.
"After they injected it, the walls became a dark crimson: peeling, dripping, and drenched, momentarily illuminated by the gradually revolving halo of dim grey light levitating above my head. The room was bone chillingly cold, yet I could not shiver. I heard muted voices of malice, the whispers came from tall shadowy figures, hardly human, amid the dark room, their gaze upon me—even though I could not distinguish them, I intuitively knew they were watching me. I smelled decay; I felt broad lacerations on my back. Amid all these horrors of a dream there was one which dwarfed the others: the agony of my small framed body being pinned down to depths inconceivable was unbearable. Paranormal pressure compressed me, locking me into a vessel where pain became more real than I ever knew possible. All of these crushing aches were of course not real, but the state I was in made them become real to me." Edge began to gasp in convulsions.
"You are fine now, Feyera."
"No Fredrick, I'm not. That dream was a memory you said!" Edge was in panic. It was as if he was suddenly awoken from a dream he wasn't ready to come out of.
"But you are okay! Look around, everything is just the way it was two hours ago. You're fine, you are just the same."
Edge brushed his hand over his chest shard, "I was out for two hours? It felt much longer than that, Fredrick."
The international police agent sighed and clasped Edge's shaking hand, "Time moves differently in dreams, why don't you tell me more about the dream memory?"
"Oh…Okay. Despair set in. It was as if time itself had halted in recognition of my mental confinement. I could not even scream, though I yearned to so very badly. I sought to lash out, kick, wriggle free, and more than anything else relieve the intolerable pressure confining me. The emotions I felt in the dream were amplified to their highest respective levels, consuming me entirely. Emotions, what I traditionally rely upon for support were binding me further down with fear. In a frenzy I wanted to fight the petrifaction; in fact, I needed to, because I was losing not only my mental sanity but also my existence. No waking emotion I have ever felt compares to the terror of being trapped in your own mind. Despite my delirium, I specifically remember exerting all of my psychic energy in an attempt to break the iron grasp on not only my body, but also my entire dissimilar essence. The last thing I remember was a sensation—pure unadulterated exertion, the kind of mental burnout so arduous that it destroys you," Edge sighed.
Fredrick was very still for a few moments, unsure of what to say. He released Edge hand, and proceeded to rub his brow. Finally he spoke, "How is it possible? They used the Progenitor Serum on you? That's…that can't be…"
"That can't be what? Tell me about the serum," Edge requested.
"Of course, I remember learning about a radical treatment given to Pokemon a few years back. It was a…ahem…delicate procedure I might add, but the researchers, surgeons, and scientists in Orre's Cipher organization were able to alter the very nature of Psychic Pokemon by giving them a serum in the eyes allowing them to see certain things. It was extrasensory perception for creatures with preexisting extrasensory perception," Fredrick said.
So they tested it on me! I was nothing more than a lab rat? "I'm not a Pokemon, Fredrick! How did they do this to me?"
"I…I really don't know. If you didn't have Pokemon qualities you would have lost your sight. Progenitor is not exactly a miracle. A man named Ein developed the technology to transfer abilities of Pokemon over into other Pokemon. It all began with Progenitor. Progenitor-EX allows Psychic Pokemon to detect Dark and Ghost types. As you probably are aware, Psychic Pokemon fear such Pokemon. They are natural prey to Dark and Ghost types. This is due to a complex evolutionary genome developed in Dark types. Dark types can 'cloak' themselves to avoid the heightened sensory perception of Psychic Pokemon. Do you know about Dark types? They have a type of naturally occurring virus present in their eyes, harmless of course, that results in the fantastic ability to see things not truly discernible by the unaltered eye. In a sense, it is a symbiotic relationship. Of course, all this means nothing unless you already have a psychic power. Think of it as a grafting process. Taken from one Pokemon and given to another. All in all, the virus—named Progenitor EX—will amplify certain things that are normally concealed."
"Fine, I get it. It doesn't make sense though. I'm not a Pokemon. I have psyonics, but that doesn't mean…"
"Listen, all I am saying is that the procedure was ORIGINALLY only suitable for Pokemon. Who knows what awful advances were made. You might have been a human test subject, although I shiver at the thought of it," Fredrick let out a long exhale.
So this is how I saw the ghost in the Pokemon Tower, Edge pointed at his right eye and made a circle motion to point out the ring encapsulating his green iris…Haunter.
"It would make sense, wouldn't it?" asked Fredrick. "Well now you understand. From what you tell me it seems as though your fear of the spectral creatures in the Pokemon Tower is because you yourself have begun to tap into Psychic powers. The problem is of course that you were never aware of your ability to see the ghosts. So you saw them when your Pokemon couldn't."
How is that possible?
"I do not know how they were able to give a human the Progenitor Serum but it seems as though your eyes have some of the characteristics: the rings of light that encircle the periphery of the iris for instance," said Fredrick.
But his eyes were not always this way. He had once had green eyes. Normal eyes. It wasn't until he started using his psyonics that he underwent such changes. Radical changes.
"To be able to inhibit your current fear, that is a dream few could achieve due to the extreme amount of will needed to undergo the treatment. You're able to sense otherworldly creatures and will no longer fear being snuffed out like a candle in the village of Lavender for instance. Now, you won't have to fear as much. Fear is something that drives your emotions to their breaking point. We've removed that limit by unlocking a part of your past so that you will have unprecedented control over your abilities. You have demonstrated an alarming sense of mental resilience and personal determination," Fredrick said.
No, I do not wish to lose my sense of fear. That would make me less human after all.
"How human are you to begin with? Not many humans can destroy the things you can with their minds," Fredrick's response made Edge angry.
Humans can, all they need is the right tool to do it. "Psyonics are a tool."
"I'm not going to argue philosophy Feyera. I'm not going to force anything upon you either. I just want to help. Your eyes, they have already lost their human qualities. I noticed it when I approached you after saving you from Archer," said Fredrick.
You are right. My eyes, they have been altered. "But I can control it." A flat out lie. The glowing scarlet aura only appeared when he was exerting psyonics to manipulate the physical world. But the thin bright golden rings encapsulating his green eyes were permanent ever since the Golden Bridge.
As if sensing Edge's deceit, Fredrick continued, "You don't want to live in a world that robs you of control. I want to help you. I also want to help the rest of the world. Word is that the Rockets are up in the Pokemon Tower. I do not know what they are doing, but their objectives have been worsening ever since their merger with Cipher."
"Why?" Isn't it dangerous in the Pokemon Tower? He shuddered as he remembered his encounter with Haunter. What could be up there besides the deceased?
"It's mostly Cipher, they have control over the Rockets," Fredrick sighed while stuffing his hand into his pocket beneath his magnum holster. "Those men and women, hardened by evil, will not be deterred so easily from fulfilling their objectives."
"What objectives?" Edge said with a hint of fear, ominous to both him and Fredrick.
"Brutal objectives, Mr. Feyera. A type of ruthlessness going far beyond the definition of wickedness."
"But I can't fight them. Not all of them." Someone innocent will get hurt. Besides, I cannot fight those…those…things.
Edge could feel his thin frame shutter as he relived the experience of losing Jill to the depraved ghost in Lavender.
"You need confidence, my friend. Confidence comes from being able to tune out fear and face the darkness," Fredrick said bluntly.
"So if I can see into the beyond…then that means..."
"That means you can enter the Pokemon Tower. You can face the mausoleum of deceased and restless spirits. Cipher is there and I have no idea why. However, none can enter the tower without being pulled into the afterlife by the elusive malevolent phantoms. As you said, Haunter resides there. An elusive beast to be sure."
"Yes, but not for me."
"Precisely. You can see Haunter. Maybe that is why it wanted to kill you. In any event, ghosts and criminals, they both are in the tower together. Lavender Town was evacuated a week ago due to this."
Edge rubbed his eyes. "You expect me to see Haunter and defeat it? With what? I cannot rely on my psyonics, they are too untamed."
"You are a Pokemon trainer, aren't you?"
"Yes but…"
"But?" Fredrick asked.
"I lost my Geodude to Haunter's Night Shade attack. I couldn't stop it."
"I'm sorry for your loss Feyera."
"It's my fault."
"No. Don't blame yourself. We're running out of time. You have the opportunity to make sure that your Pokemon's sacrifice was not made in vain."
"You…You really think so, Fredrick?"
"I know you can. You have the necessary gifts to do so."
"A gift?" Edge was able to lift his weak recovering body from the couch using his mind. The psychic strain was not nearly as bad as it had once been. Positive emotions feeding into each other made the motion effortless.
"Progenitor. Cipher and the Rockets must have a similar type of technology at their disposal. What if they tested it on you, in attempts to perfect it? However, it doesn't answer the question as to why they are even there in the first place! The Rockets constitute a terrorist organization; I wonder how they are able to get hold of this Progenitor Serum. Unless, someone from Cipher still had the formula…" Fredrick said.
"Looks like you have your work cut out for you then."
"I certainly do." Smiling softly, Fredrick pulled his hand from his pocket revealing a folded piece of papyrus. Unveiling it, he showed Edge the old chart. It seemed to be torn. He then removed a similar piece of parchment from a storage tube at the corner of his desk and connected the two on a table. "This, this is a piece of work found in the headquarters of the Rocket base. It once belonged to belligerent of the Great War judging by the signature. R. Arcturus," he said, clearing his voice with a soft cough, "He left this valuable diagram. For the longest time, we figured it was a mere roadmap. We only had half of the document and believed that perhaps it detailed where he was stationing troops. Now with both pieces however, you can see that it is more than that."
Feyera looked at the map. He could clearly see Kanto's landmass, along with the southern islands. Then there was Johto to the west and Hoenn to the south as well. Certain parts of the map were circled with crimson lines. A few had crosses going through the circles as if to signify something. The closest one to them was east of Saffron City on the map, approximately where Lavender Town was situated. All of these circles were dwarfed by a large section of the map completely devoted to the islands south of Kanto. Here there were many markings and lines. A few bold arrows and scribbles signified that to the south something important was hidden.
Fredrick looked down at Feyera's intrigued face. "What do you think it looks like?"
"Treasure? A…treasure map? To what though?" asked Edge.
"Patience, my friend. According to this, it is not buried on land but at sea."
"Do you suspect it to be dangerous? I mean, we are talking about Arcturus the Destroyer right?" Edge wasn't sure where "the Destroyer" fit in, it seemed to be just made up on the spot. Yet there was still a strange familiarity with the surname. Psychometry, he thought.
"Feyera?"
"Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking out loud."
"You have a tendency to literally do that you know."
Edge sheepishly grinned, "I know. But back to the treasure."
"Of course. It is a dormant power, Mister Feyera. Something evenArcturus could not attain. His journal entries indicate that this hidden artifact—a philosopher's stone—would be revolutionary after development of firearms. Thankfully he never found it and was ineffective in his conquest to wrestle command over the nation of Kanto." Fredrick beamed, "I will be in touch with you if I make any leads on the connection between Cipher and the Rockets. I trust you can handle the mausoleum alone? You…do not…I mean, you no longer have fear do you?"
"I will face the fear," said Edge. This was only partially true. Although Edge did not have the sensation of restraining fear preventing him from completing actions, he still did question the unknown. Fredrick was still looking blankly at his progress.
"I'll find this artifact, don't you worry Mister Feyera," Fredrick trailed off as he discovered Edge was reading his mind.
Edge felt a huge surge of sensation and mental stimulus as his world became filled with glistening colors for a fraction of a second. He knew what Fredrick was looking for. He knew his thoughts exactly for that one moment.
I can help you find it. The Mercury Relic.
Edge had a history with this item, but he did not want to reveal too much to Fredrick.
Jaw hanging and face contorted, Fredrick wheezed, "Mister Feyera…please don't ever try to enter my mind again." Shaking involuntary he continued, "When you do…what you just did…it pains me. It feels like you are ripping out pieces of my mental essence."
Stunned, Edge could only gasp at what he had accidentally done.
I-I-I'm... sorry. But when I project my thoughts and my feelings on to you, does that bring anguish? Like right now? I'm too weak to speak using my body so I need to resort to this in order to communicate. I hope that's alright with you.
"There is a difference, Mister Feyera. I'm afraid I need to go." Now Fredrick seemed to be in a hurry to leave all of a sudden.
"I—wait…"
Fredrick shook his head. "We should both be heading out on our separate ways." Fredrick handed him a compact round communicator wrapped in a wad of Pokedollars with a rubber band. "Here. Take this, and head east towards Lavender Town. I'll be in touch." He nodded then walked out of the suddenly cold sunlit room.
"Wait. Fredrick. I didn't mean to…" But Fredrick had closed the door behind him already.
Edge sighed. What had he done? He didn't know mind prying was painful. He hardly knew anything about his psyonics. But he did know that he had a way to face Haunter.
Thank you for saving me from myself.