The Plot Slideshow

Pete was not a family man, and he would have felt as if he intruded on the Sullivan's private time if there had been such a thing. Andrew had, in calm, soft tones, explained to his wife what he had actually been doing for Silph. This was complicated, because he first had to explain what he had wanted to do, then what he had done, and then what had actually been the result. Pete had waited in the living room while the elderly couple had talked in the kitchen.

He knew Emma because he had been there when Andrew had married her, and he'd also been at the hospital when the woman had lost her legs. So he was not the least surprised when she remained calm, comforted her husband and gently called him, Pete, in to join them at the table. You could build a house on Emma Sullivan, she was so steadfast. And she asked very few questions, but when she did, they all hit hard.

"What will happen to Miss Carlyle?" That was the first one.

Well, that was up to Silph's board now. Because of Warrington, there now was an actual adhesion contract. Both men exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

"I can not say", Andrew said.

"You won't let her come to harm, right?", came the second question.

"I can not protect her, dear. I do not have a voice in that any more."

"I repeat myself, you won't let her come to harm, right?"

"We won't", Pete said, "We will meet Mr. Warrington tomorrow first thing in the morning, and we still have some rights, Emma. The Doc has earned Silph hard money for years. I'm not so bad either. There are people who owe us. We can call in a few favours. Tabby will be all right." He himself did not believe that feeble line, and neither did the couple.

"She will be kept confined, and she will be treated like some freak", the woman said, "We know that, don't we? Tests, isolation, no rights."

"No, we don't know that, because… well, we just do not know", Pete insisted, "I know it's easy to think that way, but… yeah, right, we do know that. It's what makes the best drama. Break the cutie, or something. Do you have a beer, Emma? I could really do with one."

"Fridge, Pete. Bring a round", said his senior, "It's time to get drunk and lose all faith."

"No", said Emma softly, "It's not. It's time to think, and do something."

"Dear, there is nothing we can do. If anything, Bradley's out of it as well as we are. The Mix now belongs to Warrington, personally, and all we can hope for is that he doesn't ape my mistakes."

"Ah. And what would a powerful man with a formula that can actually change people into half an extinct animal do? No, really, I am just asking."

Make more, thought Bradley, that would be the first thing he would suggest. He watched the Haunter as it playfully floated around the room. The Ariados woman was the living proof that a human could take on a pokemon's abilities. She had reportedly healed much faster than should be humanly possible. She had responded to the capturing orb. That was a start. Maybe the Mix could be improved to make the changes even more effective.

Select better, that would be the next suggestion. Pokemon came in so many different shapes and types. What about the Vulpix mummy they had found? Vulpix had a fire sac- it was a fox with the ability to breathe fire. The Sandshrew had a skin composed of extremely hard, almost brick-like material, but flexible. You didn't need to read a lot of bad fiction to come up with military uses.

And get creative, that was the crown jewel. Bradley was, much to his pride, not a creative man, but Warrington employed a fleet of advertisers and daydreamers who could sell you the time of the day in twenty different colours. Mix and match. Select from several pokemon the most interesting, powerful, useful features, and recreate them in one human body.

He was sweating. His initial plan had been simple: Get as much backup documentation as possible, then destroy the rest. Blackmail and threaten Warrington. Threaten to release his discoveries to the highest bidder… as long as he didn't belong to Silph, however long it would take to find such a bidder. Warrington would have had no other choice but to pay someone to clear Bradley's slate and beg him to return, on his own terms.

It had been a flawed plan indeed, and Bradley realised that he was clearly improvising where precise calculation should have taken place. But the last few minutes had given him a powerful tool- a pokemon that accepted him as his owner. It had accepted him tossing one of the new capturing orbs at it, had been swallowed by it, and then he had released it again. It was his pokemon.

He had a ghost that would fight for him. Now, what could it do?

"There's not much Warrington can do, not without us. He needs either Bradley or me, even if he gets a whole fleet of clever lads it will take them a while to even understand half of what I did. And what Bradley did, well, that should be complicated too. I'm not too fond of machines, but I heard they are tricky. Things break down all the time, or something."

"And that means?", asked his wife.

"That means Warrington will need one of us back. Warrington wants to get a use out of Miss Carlyle, he needs me. Warrington wants to toss balls at people, he needs Bradley."

"And you wouldn't toss a capturing ball at the young lady, naturally."

"Dear, I wouldn't even toss a marshmallow at her, because she would eat it and I wouldn't have a marshmallow then. But this is all idle chat, you know? We are merely relieving stress here."

"It seems to do you some good."

"But it's futile. We merely toss around known facts and wait for something to happen…"

At that point, there was a knock on the door. Andrew Sullivan didn't miss a beat: "Which is now. Obviously. I had that planned, you know. I have the most amazing door in the whole of London. It's a plot door. They cost extra. Please open, Pete."

Bradley left the door open. The bulging gym bag over his shoulder, the Haunter at his side and the empty capturing orb in his hand, he slowly made his way through the basement corridors. He was thinking hard.

He had a pokemon now. It was a very strange but exciting feeling: He had the most loyal protection in the world now. He had refreshed his memory by reading the one chapter about the Haunter duel again, and he had ordered the floating beast to walk through a wall, to turn invisible, to summon a small, buzzing projectile and hurl it into the crates and boxes. These techniques had been mentioned in the Gladiator's Journey. The Haunter had not been able to turn invisible, and Bradley suspected that pokemon did not necessarily share the same abilities across a type. When he had ordered the ghost to destroy as much in the room as possible, however, the Haunter had seriously gone berserk. It had been a fearful sight- the jagged, shaggy shape of darkness moved smoothly and very fast, slashed at boxes, smashed wood and metal, and all the while cackled and howled. It obviously enjoyed to destroy things, and when it had been done, it had returned to his side, grinning evilly. His left hand, Bradley had noticed, was slightly larger than the right one, and seemed to glow a bit brighter, to a point where the purple tint became a deep red.

"You have stopped", he had said, "Is there something else you can do? You seem to enjoy this sort of behaviour."

"Haaaaaaaaaaunt", the thing had howled- it had sounded very approving.

"Yes, have fun. Show me… let me see your strongest attack."

The Haunter's eyes had grown wide, and its mouth had dropped open. An unnaturally long, flat tongue had become visible, and the beast had smacked its lips happily. Then it had raised its hands above its head and started to howl. The misty fog that forever seemed to pour from its body had grown thicker, and Bradley had felt a chill. The Haunter's mouth had grown even larger, it had seemed as if the whole thing was made of teeth and tongue, and then it had choked up a stream of mist. Purple flames had appeared all over the wreckage. The room had been lit purple within minutes.

That had been minutes ago, and behind him, Bradley knew, there were only ruins. The sample storage was on fire, the secured data inside was destroyed. There were still the results of many years of research, and they were in his bag, and he would not let go of it now.

"That was impressive", he said as man and ghost pokemon reached the elevator, "That was really impressive. Cold fire."

"Teeeer", the thing drawled, almost smugly.

"You are only to do this when I order you to, is that understood?"

"Haun-ter." Did it agree? Did it even comprehend? Bradley had never owned a pet but knew that people always said things like, yes, my dog understands every thing I say. This seemed to be a similar situation: The Haunter understood him, however limited its intelligence would have to be. It could only use its name, or syllables of its name, as a crude language. But it seemed to communicate its general agreement with the way he treated it. A bit like a trained pet, really. But instead of fetching sticks, his pet could wreck havoc and walk through walls. And to think that Sullivan, the old fool, had made himself a girl with two extra legs that were no use. He stopped in his tracks.

Did he dare to finish the thought? The Haunter, perfectly silent, turned to watch its owner. Its eyes were glowing faintly. The elevator doors, as if controlled by a higher sense for dramatic events, slid open, and a nurse, a total stranger to Bradley, gasped as she saw the man and the pokemon. The Librarian finished the thought and made a decision.

"Good evening. May we?", Bradley said and stepped in. The Haunter followed and watched the young woman. There was hunger in its eyes.

"Where are you stopping?", the Librarian asked cheerfully, "You are not- by accident- checking on the Ariados prototype, are you?"

She nodded, ever so slightly. The doors closed. Bradley's finger hovered over the buttons.

"Where to?"

"Two down, sir…"

"Ah, obviously." Bradley pushed the button and pursed his lips. "I think we shall enter a duel now, what do you think?"

The Haunter looked up, greed in its eyes. It growled happily.