Author's Notes: Here we are with third-to-last chapter of this arc! Enjoy the ride!
Chapter Thirteen: On the Hunt
Three days earlier...
Jenny's breaths came quick and desperate, echoing in the dark room. Everything was obscure to her, the absence of light as opaque as granite. Possibly the worst part of her containment was never knowing how long it had been since Lucas had vacated the hateful, pokey little room, and when he was coming back. She didn't know whether she hated his absence or his presence more. He had seen fit to have his Arbok unwind it's sinuous length from her body, and leave with him. Now she cowered in the furthest corner of the room, trying to make out any form of detail. Anything to take her mind off the terrible loneliness, the petrifying solitude. It was a fruitless endeavour, but she thought she might become a gibbering wreck before she ever got out of here.
I wonder...is Reece even still alive? She thought back to the crash, the last thing she had seen before the beautiful car had ended it's life against the solid tree trunk. Sparkling diamonds which she had later realized were fragments of the windscreen. For all Jenny knew, it could have been days, or weeks, since then. She wasn't injured, that much she was indeed grateful for, but another constant worry had been added to the ever-growing list in Jenny's brain. Now she was worried for Reece, even as she heard the rusty door handle squeak downwards and pushed herself further into the corner, wishing she could just melt through and be free of this place.
There was a bright halogen light in the corridor, framing Lucas as he stood in the doorway, with light spilling into the room. He quickly spotted her shuddering in the corner, and clicked his fingers impatiently.
"Come along, come along. It's time to begin, Officer." He said, with a terrible, gleeful anticipation. His hair was as perfect as ever, his face flawless and body moulded like a chiselled statue, but to Jenny he was nothing more than a gross miss-creation by some higher power that saw fit to dredge into the genetic soup bowl. He grinned at her, striding into the room, and grabbed her by the arm. He hoisted her up, placing her on her feet, the left one of which was promptly planted into his groin. The toe point of the high-heel dug, most likely agonizingly, in as Lucas let out an odd sound like a cross between a balloon deflating and a cat trying to hork up a hairball. Needless to say, a all-round unattractive noise that Jenny did not stick around to hear.
She hurled herself towards the door, which lay open. The bright hallway beckoned to her, a hallway lined with rusted pipes and an open door along the eastern side. Further down, a left turn bisected the corridor, folding it like a clumsy origami figure. Jenny put on burst of speed, going as fast as she could in her heels. Her ribs began to pound within seconds and her collarbone felt like it was splintering, until something caught her by the collar as she ran past, while a different something wound around her legs.
Stopped dead, Jenny looked up, into the stern face of a raven-haired man, whom she instantly recognized as Tyrone. Lucas' Arbok bound her legs tightly together, and there her escape attempt ended.
A few minutes later, Jenny found herself perched upon the rickety wooden chair again, with the Arbok hissing sinisterly in her ear, while Lucas stood in front of her, a few strands of his expertly-styled hair hanging loose over his flushed face, which held an expression of abject rage. Jenny made a hmph sound and turned her face away, until Lucas' gloved hand gently turned it back to face him. He continued to stare, his gaze boring into her own. His eyes were a dull, mischevious green, but now they were full of malice. As he stared, he let a smile fix onto his face, growing larger by the second until he was grinning like a maniac. The effect was quite something, and Jenny was filled with unease as a woman with red hair pushed a small trolley into the room, not unlike those toolcarts used in a hospital.
Unlike a hospital tool cart, it was plainly not used for surgery of the healing sort. An assortment of tools were scattered haphazardly on the aluminium cart, all of which rattled as Lucas ran his hand over them. Near the edge lay a implement shaped like a four centimetre sickle. Next to it lay a scalpel, but the blade had been bent around, curved so the point and the base nearly touched. This one he picked up, slipping off the glove on his left hand and transferring the tool to the bare hand. Dried blood or rust flecked the blade, which Lucas ran his bare index finger over, licking his lips as he stared Jenny in the eyes with his penetrating gaze. She trembled like a leaf as he touched the horrible mockery of a scalpel to her cheek.
"Shall we start the makeover...?" He breathed, then yelped as the red-head punched him on the air and began whispering in his ear. She had to lift herself on tip-toes to be heard. Lucas rolled his eyes and groaned like a boy who had just been grounded, and placed the tool lovingly on the cart as the red-head pushed it out. Jenny heaved a sigh of relief, which was cut short when Lucas slammed his bare fist into her gut. Her ribs flared painfully as she dry-retched, tears forming in her eyes as the wind was knocked out of her. Lucas made his way to the door, clicking his fingers, the sound possessing the same finality as a funeral bell. The Arbok hissed quietly and slithered out of the door, which Lucas shut behind them, and locked it. The creak of the door was a heartrending groan as Jenny hunched over in the chair, hugging her arms to her stomach.
The blackness returned, thick and shifting like a shroud. No longer did she try to see through it, instead she allowed it to take her, sinking into sleep.
Meanwhile...
Reece sat on the edge of the bed. He was in the Celadon hospital, locally known as Celadon General. His head and knee throbbed in equal measure as blood was forced through, regardless of damage. It was like a truck driving over a collapsed bridge, with the rubble being his shattered kneecap. His nerves shrieked almost constantly, until he had been handed a bottle of codeine pills.
Oooh, sweets. He had thought sarcastically, gulping one down, but he was grateful for it now. The painkillers did what they said on the tin, for a while at least. He felt better, fresher than he had last night. Flopping back on the bed, he tried to recall the memories that lay somewhere in his dizzy and dazed head. He could just about remember a vibrant pink ball, possessing more colour than even the most wonderful of flowers. He rubbed a hand down his face, cheeks stretching comically before snapping back into place like elastic.
A nurse and doctor duo were bustling around the ward, which held only three other paitents, one of which was also a police officer. Apparently, Team Rocket had blown by and taken this guy out when he had tried to stop them. He lay unconscious, dribbling from the corner of his mouth even as Reece watched. He groaned, standing up, ignoring the dull flare from his knee. The codeine seemed to be doing it's job, at any rate. He would've preferred Paracetamol, but it appeared they didn't stock it in the hospital pharmacy.
Well...it's about time I got out of here, anyway... Reece though, hobbling towards the exit of the ward. The doctor whacked him in the chest with a clipboard, barring him from freedom, and tutted.
"Just where do you think you're going, Mr. Wilson?" The doctor asked, pushing his glasses further up his hooked nose as he watched. He was one of those doctors to whom "bedside manner" meant "don't talk to paitents with your mouth full." Needless to say, it didn't win him any popularity contests.
"I need to check in with my Chief, Doctor. So, direct me to a phone and move out of the way, please." He muttered, watching the nurse fuss over the out-cold officer. He thought he saw a glint of red, but he shook it off. Likely he was seeing things from the concussion he probably had. The doc appeared to be of the same mind, trying to chivvy him back to his bed.
"Come now, Mr. Wilson. There will be plenty of time for that later. For now, you need to rest." He attempted to reason, but the smile stuck on his face like a tarred feather, and was just as unwanted. Reece ignored him, stepping around the shorter man and heading for the ward exit. As he went, pushing the double doors open to take his leave, he heard the officer mutter something. The nurse leant closer, trying to hear what he said, repeating it back to check if she heard it right. Her incredulous, uneasy tone made Reece stop, and whirl round as she spoke.
"Electrode...use Explosion?" A red and white sphere rolled out from under the officer's bed, who suddenly leapt from it and rolled across the floor, curling himself into a ball. There was the barest pause.
"Elect..." And then came the explosion. The ward tore itself apart under the fury of the blast, once pristine walls and sterile floors cracking and blackening while a rolling flame burst forth, towards Reece, who grabbed the doctor, hurled him bodily through the double doors, and dove after him. He felt the flame scorch the top of his head as he hit the ground heavily on his front, cracking his knee and tearing up instantly. There was a muted whump as the nurse's body slammed into the ward wall, while the injured woman next to the fake-policeman lay motionless on the floor, her gown ablaze. The fake officer stumbled out of the ward, a fanatical grin on his face. One of his arms was missing, spraying a thin jet of crimson. Reece recoiled from the sight, even as the man collapsed onto Reece, headbutting him forcefully. Retching, Reece shoved the man away, kicking at his scrabbling hands. The doctor had long since fled, and screams filled the hallway. Reece wiped his sweating face, suddenly realizing the danger.
The fire had ignited the area outside the ward doors, and now hungry orange-and-red embers were consuming the ceiling and walls. Sparks and fragments of the ceiling dropped onto Reece, who covered his head and ducked, bearing the brunt of the impact, which threatened to throw him to the floor. The one-armed man had managed to get to his feet, and tackled Reece as he got up. The breath driven out of his lungs, Reece gasped and choked as the man punched with his remaining fist, hammering blows on Reece's face. Stunned and in pain once more, Reece managed to catch the man's wrist, deal him a body blow and roll out from underneath him. It was the man's turn to gasp for breath, even as his stump sluggishly pumped more of his vitality onto the floor. Smoke was gathering in thick, suffocating clouds, so Reece remained crouched, holding an arm across his mouth and nose.
"Why did you do this!" He demanded of the coughing, one-armed man, who tried to laugh. A bubbling rasp was all that escaped his lips.
"Team Rocket don't like you, Mr. Wilson...we don't like you at all." He replied, a fit of coughs racking his prone form. Reece gritted his teeth, snarling at the man, then kicked him in the cheek, knocking the man out, and this time there would be no explosive surprises. Reece reached down, unclipping the Pokeball that remained at the man's torn belt, then dragged the Rocket by his foot, staggering along as fast as he could make himself go. Eventually, they made it to the stairs. Reece glanced at the Rocket, shrugged, and set off down them. The one-armed man's head bounced with muted impacts off each stair as they descended, until a second nurse spotted Reece as they entered into the reception. She hurried over to help, grabbing the man by the shoulders. To her credit, she didn't flinch at his missing arm, nor drop him in shock. She saved that until they were outside, free of the conflagration that was growing rapidly inside.
The first few fire engines had already appeared, with water Pokemon of all descriptions being called out. A trio of firefighters with a Cloyster and two Vaporeons ran inside, while a Poliwrath stood upon one of the vehicles and let loose a jet of water through the windows where flames could be seen roiling.
Reece sat down heavily on the pavement, letting the Rocket flop as well, and groaned. No doubt he was blackened and grimy, not to mention bloodsoaked. He glared hatefully at the man snoozing peacefully next to him, tempted to stamp on his throat, and end it there. But he held back, instead getting to his feet and limping over to a squad car that had shown up. He sat heavily on the bonnet, massaging his knee and taking the tube of pills from his pocket. Mercy had decided to save the pills, for none were broken and the bottle was intact. Popping the lid, Reece gulped two down dry and replaced the lid and tube in his pocket. An officer approached him, asking him to move or some such. In reply, Reece unclipped his badge from his belt and thrust it at the officer, who blinked.
"Oh! Hey, Chief Roscoe has been raging about finding you since yesterday! He wants you to check in ASAP!" He said, gesturing to the radio in the car, then began moving onlookers and pedestrians away from the fire engines and the building itself. Reece slid off the bonnet and clambered into the passenger seat of the squad car, unhooking the radio handset.
"Wilson here. I'm jacking this radio. Put me through to Roscoe please." He grumbled, laying back in the seat and closing his eyes wearily. The pills were making him a little drowsy.
"Wilson! Godamnit, you're lucky I don't have your badge! Is Jenny with you!" He demanded. Reece could picture the aging man easily, purple with apopalectic rage, jumping up and down in his office. Reece rubbed his eyes with his cleaner hand before replying.
"No, Chief." He said. Then the deluge really started. After asking why in the hell not, Roscoe proceeded to go on a rant for five minutes, barely taking the time to breathe in between sentences. When he finally was calmer, he sounded genuinely concerned, rather than just enraged.
"I don't know where she is. We were on our way to Saffron City, via the back roads. Some accident on the motorway, I don't know...Anyway we were heading that way, when this tree fell right in front of us. I hit it, and blacked out. Next thing I knew, I'm waking up in the pouring rain, my car ffffucked, and with a shattered kneecap! Then I trekked through the forest off Route Seven, and managed to get to the hospital here, in Celadon." Reece relayed all this information, managing to convey his frustration and tiredness, as well as his worry and anger. He grumbled to himself for a few seconds as he waited for Roscoe's reply. When it came, it was in a tone of voice he had never heard the man use. It was kindly. It was like hearing about a Magikarp being useful.
"Look, head over to Saffron City. Get some rest at the branch HQ, and tomorrow we'll get you back on the trail, okay?" He wheedled, while Reece just stared at the radio in shock. He was too incredulous to do anything but agree in a daze.
Since when was Roscoe nice?