Chapter XI: Silver Screen
Daylight faded in from the Dragon's Den exterior. Kingdra crossed the pond behind Blackthorn City Gym. Damion returned the water dragon to its designated Dive Ball, replacing it with his Master Ball in his palm. A sweet scent of summer flora came about. The city's bustling had finally died down.
How firm their friendship became, Mewtwo and Damion's. Staring into the Master Ball's spherical frame, the Trainer's spirit revitalized. With Mewtwo at his side Blackthorn's prince was the world's strongest Pokémon Trainer, albeit by default. Although they had not recorded a single battle together, Damion knew Mewtwo would protect him no matter what the cost.
Clair waited anxiously for the boy's return. His argument with Lance disturbed her. Damion was a troubled child. Memories of their disagreements resurfaced. He always understood discipline, and owned up to his mistakes. Loving him was the hard part. The boy rejected Clair's love on countless occasions.
Damion shut everyone out. His childhood rivaled that of an orphan, by choice. He wanted to be alone. He wanted his family back. Two years after his parents were wrongfully slain, Damion obtained his Pokémon eligibility. On his tenth birthday, he received his first Pokémon: Larvitar, a rare Rock-type Pokémon found exclusively within Mt. Silver's cave. Clair cashed some favors from colleagues to gain access to the restricted mountainous area.
The boy did not soon forget her affection. He loved the little green reptile like the brother he never had. When Damion turned 12, Larvitar evolved into Pupitar, a Rock- and-Ground-type. Pupitar helped Damion build his formidable reputation among his peers. Although the grayish-blue shelled Pokémon had no limbs, it propelled itself by expending vented gas inside its rock-hard casing.
Larvitar were born alone. The parent buried its Egg deep underground, and the child must consume its surroundings to survive. Once it had eaten nearly a mountain's worth of soil, the Rock Skin Pokémon was ready to surface. Clair found Larvitar by its lonesome hiding behind a tree on the cave's lower mountainside. She needed five Ultra Balls to catch it. Larvitar's toughness and careful nature resembled her godson.
Despite their bond, Damion and Pupitar grew apart. The introverted Pokémon hated living in captivity. It received all the love and care it could ever need. However, it wished to return to its homeland. Damion struck a deal.
The Trainer promised Pupitar that when it evolved into its final stage he would release it back into the wild. This was to be a grueling process. The experience needed to evolve Pupitar into Tyranitar, a monstrous Rock-and-Dark-type pseudo-legendary Pokémon, required tedious training. For the love Damion had shown, Pupitar agreed, and the two trained day in and day out.
Two weeks after Damion's 16th birthday, he and his beloved Pokémon completed their pact. Clair once again used her clout to travel back to the great mountain. There she released the six-and-a-half-foot dinosaurian Armor Pokémon. They exchanged bittersweet goodbyes. Leader Clair watched the bipedal reptile's spiked tail disappear into its natural habitat.
The proud godmother took out a thick-tipped black pen from her wristlet purse. She held Tyranitar's former artificial home in her left palm. Flipped on its crown, the Ultra Ball featured a letter T, written by Clair, on its white lower half.
Despite her marking being smudged, Clair distinguished it from her other Ultra Balls in her storage closet. Damion might want it, she thought, sifting through some junk. She assumed he did not intend to stay in town for long. Noise of footsteps prompted her return to her living area.
Damion arrived from the Dragon's Den with a determined look. His words confirmed Clair's assumption.
"I'm leaving now," he said with a new fire in his eyes.
"I know," she grinned. "I figured you would be."
"I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer. But I must embark on my new path immediately."
"Where will you go?"
"I'm going to enter a tournament that has been set up by Siegfried, the Leader of Team Rocket."
"Siegfried? That can't be right. The TV says that the big Ecruteak tournament is being hosted by a mysterious man who goes by the name Eusine."
"Eusine is an alias. That's not his real name. Siegfried is responsible for the death of my parents and Maya, and nearly me as well. I must avenge them."
"Tell me where this scoundrel is. We will take him on together!"
"No, Clair. We won't. I can't have you go down as my accomplice."
"I-I don't understand what you mean."
"His blood will be on my hands – mine and mine alone."
"What? Don't you dare betray your parents in such a way! Nothing you do will bring them back."
"It's not about bringing them back. It's abou—"
"About proving your status as a man? Your father would n—"
"My father is dead!"
". . ."
"I am empty, Clair! Don't you see it? Revenge is the only thing keeping me alive. I will train like no one ever has; I will win that tournament; I will erase him from existence. And the world will know my name."
Clair's heart sank. But she knew her words could not sway him. The Gym Leader revealed the marked Ball from behind her back. She exchanged it for her Kingdra's Dive Ball.
"She wished to stay behind in the Den;" said Damion, "you should probably take her back." He accepted the Ultra Ball in confusion.
"Why are you giving me this?" he said.
Mewtwo emerged from its Master Ball. Four Silver Wings circled its aura. Clair stared in awe. Damion nodded and cracked a brief smile.
"I sense emptiness," it noted to its Trainer, "in this Ball and in your heart." Lowering his head, Damion replied.
"This Ultra Ball once housed my very first Pokémon."
Clair held her godson's forearm with lightness. Their eyes met at a tender intersection. Blackthorn's Leader instructed Damion to call out to Tyranitar. If he were to enter Siegfried's tournament, she suggested, the Trainer would need his most powerful allies.
"Tyranitar will understand," she said. Damion did not want to disturb his friend's tranquility.
"I will go," the clone insisted. It plucked a Silver Wing, thanking Clair for her unconditional support of its new Trainer. Damion turned his head to the Genetic Pokémon's digits as they appeared atop his shoulder. Mewtwo looked into the boy's eyes.
"Let us make haste."
Damion hugged his godmother tight and kissed her cheek.
"Before you go," Clair said, "I need your word." The Trainer opened his ears, nodding his head.
"Two things," she instructed. "First: Go and visit that sweet girl. Keep your promise."
"But Clair, I d—"
"Fear and love, Damion – that's all we have in this life. Choose wisely."
". . ."
"Well?"
"I will go and visit Skylar."
"Thank you. She stays in the Celadon Condominium complex. You know where that is?"
"Not exactly, but I'll find it."
"Take the Magnet Train from Goldenrod to Saffron. And tell her I said hello!"
"I will."
"Good, good. . ."
"And the other thing?"
"Oh, right. Damion, please, I beg of you, don't do anything rash."
"I can't promise you that."
"You are a Harrison – a man of honor and integrity. Find a way to make this right, without giving into hatred. Show Team Rocket that love conquers all, that in time we will encounter peace again."
"Their time is up. There is no peace left here to find. Anywhere I look all I see are predators and prey. The fence between them – this love, peace or whatever you want to call it – no longer exists, if it even ever did.
This world isn't worth saving. But my world is. While time preys on our flesh, elites prey on our minds. And Siegfried preys on our souls. He believes he's different from them. One is like a Pyroar, the other a Persian: same predator, different species.
And what does one do with a potent predator? He hunts them, and mounts them for all to see. I am a hunter. Revenge is my weapon."
She missed the boy as soon as he left her doorstep. Mewtwo's silhouette flickered into nothingness. Her Silver Wing found a home in an empty windowsill vase.
The Trainer marched east back towards the Ice Path. Whilst navigating one of the cave's frigid puzzles, Mewtwo reappeared before Damion. "Yes?" he greeted. Its words conveyed concern.
"Tell me, Damion," it said. "Is your heart impure?" He did not know how to answer. The clone had high hopes for its Trainer. Suicune's tale of its master's quest rang inside the Genetic Pokémon's head. Ho-Oh's light should shine on this brave soul, it deemed. Although it saw his thoughts, the Psychic-type reserved judgment to hear Damion's side.
"What do you want me to say?" the boy shrugged.
"My question is not based on what I want. I wish to know what it is that you want."
"I thought I made myself clear."
"That you did."
"So. . .?"
"Is your heart impure?"
"I don't know what you mean by that. Are you asking me not to go through with this, or what?"
"I agree with Clair."
"So you are. Look, my mind is made up. We're entering his stupid tournament just like you wanted."
"I know what I said. I want us to defeat him, but not like this."
"I'll ask you again. Are you afraid to take a life?"
"I do not fear my past. The day I was born I stole the breath of many men."
"And so the world turns."
"It did not quench my rage, young Trainer. It only made me weaker."
"Whatever, man. You said you'd go fetch Tyranitar. So go."
"I will find your ally and bring him to you. But I must tell you something."
"Well?"
"You are not my first Trainer."
". . ."
Red, the man on the mountain, was the first Trainer to uncover Mewtwo's Cerulean hiding place. Sent by Kanto's Professor Oak to complete his Pokédex, the League Champion scoured his native region in search of a myth. One momentous night, Red encountered Mewtwo, challenging it to a battle.
His resilient Charizard and storied Pikachu combined their alternating strengths to whittle Mewtwo's health. Alone they were defenseless. Red caught the clone in an Ultra Ball, the last of 57 attempts. 150 captured Pokémon species marked his mission complete. He returned to his hometown of Pallet to deliver the news.
Professor Oak's Lab patiently awaited Red's arrival. In his youth, Oak dreamed of being the first to discover every Pokémon in his region. Dedication guided his greatness. Decades of tireless pursuit drained his prime. Until he met Red that fateful day, Oak sat on destiny's fence, wrestling retirement.
When his Lab door's handle turned and Red's silhouette sketched before his eyes, the seasoned researcher suppressed his doubts for potentially the final time. Oak reached his moment, and his hand along with it, accepting the Trainer's completed Pokédex. Red watched its data be scanned into the Lab's mainframe computer.
"Red, my boy," Oak said. "You've done it!" He reiterated his faith in his pupil's skills. An appropriate nod and half-smile was Red's response. His eyes fixed on the gadget. One by one 145 Pokémon flashed on a screen, confirming their discovered status. A moral dilemma snuck into the heart of Red.
Moltres, the Legendary Flame Pokémon, showed frozen inside its digital frame. Red recalled their epic duel. His undersized Pikachu cast the final blow. In the wake of its defeat, Moltres stared in the eyes of its captor. Their kindness placed peace around the bird's soul. It knew it was in no danger.
Red released his tamed phoenix back into the wild, as he did with its two counterparts. He understood the power of Legendary Pokémon, and the responsibility tied to harnessing them. Kanto's true Champion believed Pokémon Trainers were only worthy of raising one Legendary. His bond resided with Moltres.
"Stupid thing," Oak blurted, raising his hand to the machine. The senior's smacks kicked its data collection back into gear. Dratini; Dragonair; Dragonite. At number 149, the Pokédex neared its official completion. Mewtwo's entry popped onto the screen. Oak and his four Aides gawked at its overwhelming statistics.
"Its Special Attack is off the charts!" said one Aide.
"It's got amazing Speed as well!" said another.
Red made a polarizing decision. Although their time together lacked longevity, Mewtwo and Red respected each other. He knew it longed for privacy. Mewtwo deserved to be free.
The Pokémon Master snatched his Pokédex from Oak's machine's slot. An alert Aide attempted to retrieve it from the Trainer's clutch. Red dodged the researcher's arm and barged past his colleagues, sprinting for the door. Download Error pulsated on the passive computer screen.
An Aide began to give chase. "Let him go," said Professor Oak. "He knows something we do not."
Red knew Mewtwo's true power – the power of influence. If the Genetic Pokémon remained free, the Trainer concluded, it could lead and protect its brethren. In the restraint of a Poké Ball, Mewtwo would surely cast a destructive shadow.
So he ran. He ran with the winds of destiny at his back, entering the grueling trails of Mt. Silver's domain. With 16 Badges pinned to his vest, Red proved his Champion status, defeating Trainer after Trainer, wild Pokémon after wild Pokémon. He approached the coveted cave.
Mewtwo burst from its Ultra Ball. Snow flurries perpetually whipped the boy's clothes eastward. The black and yellow Poké Ball trembled in his grip. A staredown ensued. Neither contestant looked away for several minutes. Frigid winds whistled in the background. They communicated without words.
Grateful was Mewtwo for Red's compassion. However, due to his Champion status, Red seemed to be one of few humans fit to join it in battle. Yet he refused. Mewtwo wished for friendship. Red wished for solitude.
The Psychic-type shuttered its eyes and flew away. The Champion, shards of Ultra Ball falling from his palm, entered Mt. Silver never to be seen or heard from again.
"So, that's why you volunteered," Damion said, pacing closer to the Ice Path's exit. He shook his head and scoffed. Mewtwo floated close behind.
"We were allies for a day; nothing more, nothing less."
". . . "
"Does this bother you?"
"I don't take everything personally. Do what you gotta do." Mewtwo landed on the dirt trail, blocking his progress.
"I see great potential in you," it said. "I also see fury." Echoes of youth bounced off the ice-covered walls. Damion sent a thought in Mewtwo's direction.
"I know you hear me," he communicated.
"Correct. I do."
"Get outta here before those clowns see you. We'll talk later."
"Very well. If you experience real danger in my absence, call my name and I will return."
Mewtwo disappeared. Damion gazed upon the Ice Path's exit, which was a handful of steps ahead. Three cackling boys rounded the corner. One of them, James "Jamie" Radcliffe, the son of esteemed physicians, attended primary school with Damion.
Between the ages of four and nine children around the world receive similar schooling. However, at age ten every child has the option to enroll in a Pokémon training academy in their respective region. Parents cannot dictate their child's decision, for it is only the child who knows how deeply their bond with Pokémon runs.
Kids with skills other than training and battling Pokémon continue along a formal educational trajectory. Many childhood friendships sever around age ten. Among those was the friendship of Jamie and Damion. The Dragon Clan kin chose never to bring it up. He would rather forget their previous involvement entirely.
When Damion's parents passed, they took his boyish charisma with them. He cut all ties to everyone around him, excluding Clair and The Master. They were necessary for natural human development, although Damion concluded that nothing about his childhood felt natural.
To him, Jamie represented the fleeting joy of ignorance. A normal child carried that ignorance into young adulthood. Yet life reminded Damion of its harsh realities earlier than most. He resented those with enough time to make child-like mistakes. The Harrisons exuded greatness. Clair expected greatness. Therefore, Damion demanded it of himself.
Tragedy assigned abnormality to Damion's childhood. He was never meant to be normal. Thus, following the events of May 15th, ten years ago, he bid farewell to normal and all those who resembled it.
Jamie and his friends – one with a gangly frame, slicked hair and acne, and another of average height, wearing designer apparel and a black surgeon's mask – strolled behind Damion as he exited the Ice Cave.
Their murmurs caught Damion's attention twenty-some paces away from the cave. He stopped in his tracks to acknowledge their presence, turning his head while keeping his back to them.
"Is there something I can do for you gentlemen?" he asked. Jamie signaled for his boys to walk ahead of Damion. Lanky Gerald stationed on Damion's ten; stylish Moe on his two. Once his friends were in position, Jamie spoke up. They created a triangular parameter.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Damion 'golden boy' Harrison. Do I look familiar?"
"Yes, Jamie. Of course I know you."
"Oh, you do? Well, that's funny. I would've never guessed by the way you looked right at me back there and pretended not to know me."
"If you're looking for an apology, you won't find one here."
"Oh, no no no. I would never ask Damion Harrison to apologize. He's too 'edgy' for that."
"Continue testing me and you will find yourself in a rocky situation."
"What happened to you, man? You used to be one of us."
"You know exactly what happened to me, James. Tell these friends your parents purchased to stand down. This won't end well for you."
"Call me that one more time and see what happens."
"Excuse me?"
"I said: Call me that again and see what happens."
"Speak up, James. I can't hear you."
"That's it! Guys, let's do this!"
Poké Balls appeared in each of their palms. Jamie intended to teach his former friend a lesson in decency. Lies, he determined, deserved proper repercussion. Although Clair's godson did not betray Jamie verbally, he did become a shell of himself. Their friendship hinted they would be lifelong companions – the ones who share fond memories, Soda Pops and loft apartments.
Jamie pitied Damion for his loss. When he attempted to console him, he met rejection head-on. From that day forward, Damion uttered nothing to classmates other than the occasional excuse-me or gesundheit. For his crimes of exclusion, Damion would pay, so thought Jamie.
Sneasel, the Sharp Claw Pokémon, appeared in front of Gerald. Moe released Tangela, the Vine Pokémon. Jamie's Dragon-Ground ally Gabite, the Cave Pokémon, also appeared. The bipedal trio joined Jamie in his vengeful quest.
Umbreon defended his Trainer without command, erupting from his Poké Ball. An Ice Punch from Sneasel's elongated claw surged towards the catlike creature. His body rings pulsed to a golden beat as he kicked up a cloud of dust.
Tangela extended ill will with one of its many vines. Umbreon snatched and pulled the wiggly blue limb with his teeth. The Grass-type's faceless eyes smashed into the dirt.
Gabite urged to enter the duel yet Jamie declined. His arm stretched in front of the anxious land shark.
Sneasel flinched from the Sand-attack but did not lose focus. Umbreon lunged at the mischievous-looking weasel. It countered with a timely uppercut, slicing into Umbreon's vulnerable neck area.
"That's a great Slash attack, Sneasel!" Gerald coached from behind.
"Vine Whip, Tangela!" The Kantonian Pokémon obeyed, slinging another round of stretchy limbs of which its body is almost entirely composed. Two vines tightened at either end of Umbreon. Three more trapped Damion at his shins, chest, and throat.
"What is this?" Damion mustered. On Jamie's command, Gabite whipped up a sandstorm.
Dust and debris twisted and howled; soon Damion would see only shadow and sand. The boys applied special Go-Goggles designed in the Hoenn region to combat this particular kind of weather condition. Jamie and Gabite stepped closer.
"We will beat you," he said, "in more ways than one."
The sandstorm raged on, leaving shadowed silhouettes. Sneasel raised a claw to the sky. Pokémon bursting from their Poké Balls brought fear to Damion's ears. Three more creatures entered the frame.
Damion was in danger. He knew Mewtwo could help him. But his competitive spirit kept him from seeking aid. Haunter exited his Poké Ball.
His first sight upon release was a small army. Nine against three; they were evildoers in his eyes, aggressive strangers attempting to bring harm to a friend. Though they had won together before, the Ghost-type estimated defeat, leapfrogging Damion's authority.
A stunning shade of blue covered the astral plane. Haunter projected his soul in search of a supreme assist. The ghost assumed it must have reached Mt. Silver minutes ago. So, there he flew. Damion stood still in time, placing pride ahead of intelligence.
Haunter zoomed to the clone. It floated above the great mountain with clenched fists. Looking up from an intense gaze, Mewtwo caught wind of the ghost without stifling its focus.
"I am busy, ghost. Why have you come?"
"Haunt, Haunt-Haunt-Haunt."
"So you need my help. I should have known. Is Damion alright?"
"Haunt. Haunt-Haunt, Haunter… Haunt?"
"Yes. I did say he could ask for my help should he need it. But you have come alone, on your own accord?"
"Haunt. Haunter-Haunt-Haunt. Haunter!"
"You say his pride blinds him from reality. This concerns me yet does not surprise me. Our Trainer dances to a dangerous tune."
"Haunter?"
"No. I do not like where his mind is heading. But he must learn to which this path leads on his own."
"Haunt-Haunt, Haunter Haunt!"
"Yes, Haunter. I know he is in danger. Time is plentiful in this realm, as you know to be true. So go: Return to Damion and fight with honor. Once I am finished with this pest, your aid will arrive."
Haunter did as he was told, reentering the third dimension. Meanwhile, Mewtwo continued its match with the so-called pest. It was referring to Damion's companion. Similar to Moo Moo Farm's Tauros, Tyranitar's mind refused to calm.
Discovering it was simple. Mewtwo found the living green fossil scratching its back along a giant pine tree trunk. It did not welcome visitation, however. Mewtwo attempted to reason with it, mentioning Damion's name over and over. Although the clone prepared for a fight, it preferred a peaceful compromise.
Yet it found nothing of the sort this day. As a Dark-type, Tyranitar held an advantage over Mewtwo. A devastating Crunch attack tested the clone's patience. Mewtwo zipped through the air, dodging multiple Rock Slides. It flew behind the unruly reptile to attempt a powerful strike. However, the tip of its tail locked between Tyranitar's jaws.
It bit down hard, and imprinted Mewtwo's body into the earth with one giant swirl of the neck. The clone countered with a cunning Shadow Ball aimed between its opponent's eyes. Its Ghost-type attack did little damage, though bought enough time to wriggle away.
"Enough!" it spoke. From an elevated vantage, Mewtwo decided the outcome of the match. Within its repertoire the Genetic Pokémon possessed an attack of utter certainty. Mewtwo's Fighting-type move Aura Sphere harnessed its internal energy into an unavoidable heat-seeking assault.
Due to its typing, Tyranitar never stood half a chance against the clone's energy orb. Once its blue body bubble ejected, Mewtwo claimed victory. Tyranitar crashed into the face of the cave and lay fainted in defeat. The Genetic Pokémon floated to its challenger. Compassion filled its heart.
Mewtwo searched its mind for a way in which to heal the Dark-type. The Armor Pokémon deserved to reunite with its old friend in good health. Therefore Mewtwo used its psychic strength to locate a coveted Max Revive, assuming one resided in Mt. Silver's cave either at the hands of a clumsy Trainer or fate itself. Within seconds, the clone spotted the medicinal Item, teleporting inside.
In the meantime, Haunter fought diligently in order to defend his loving Trainer. Despite being outmatched, the ghost was quick to paralyze his foes with his noxious tongue. This included Tangela, Haunter's first target. Damion and Umbreon gasped for air but the surrounding sand dealt a hazardous buffet. Coughing and spitting interrupted Damion's recovery process. Yet time was on his side.
One by one Jamie watched his allies fall to the combined strength of Haunter and Umbreon. Quick Attacks and Licks multiplied in stupefying succession, leaving only him and his Gabite standing on the battlefield. Indefinite chatter and whispers greeted Jamie's ears. Their duel was now a spectacle likely to be posted on a number of online platforms. Luckily for Jamie, Gabite's blistering sandstorm masked his defeat – for the time being.
"Gabite, go! Use Dual Chop!" Jamie shouted. The Cave Pokémon leaped towards its opposition, slicing at them with its two arm fins. Umbreon dodged as Damion commanded. Haunter lost focus due to fatigue, receiving a hefty blow. The sandstorm subsided.
A mini crowd surfaced, joined by cute companions. Smartphones covered their faces. Damion peeked over his shoulder to identify their presence, returning Haunter to his Poké Ball. To further embarrass his enemy, he longed to address the crowd. A few quick burns entered Damion's thoughts, although erecting one would surely bring a surplus of attention, which he knew he would soon regret.
Jamie panted with adrenaline, readying an all-out attack. Damion mirrored his intent. As the words began to spill from beneath their tongues, the boys felt a sensation of déjà vu. Another sandstorm whipped into fruition. Damion asked Jamie. Jamie asked Damion. Its origin seemed unknown. Moments later, destiny dawned.
A thunderous roar fell from the heavens, followed by an earth-shaking arrival. Two silhouettes entered the fray. Damion's heart was overcome with joy. Mewtwo delivered on its promise, keeping a watchful eye on the raging reptile. Tyranitar swung its tail 360 degrees and flung Jamie and Gabite from its stream of sand. They crashed into a nearby evergreen.
As the sand dissipated so did the presence of the Genetic Pokémon. The crowd erupted as Tyranitar was exposed. It was a rare sighting no matter the region. They attempted to capture it on film, but Mewtwo raised an invisible paw, disabling electronic capabilities. With their chances of digital validation soured, the citizens marched back into mode.
Damion, Tyranitar and a hidden Mewtwo joined Jamie by the evergreen. The boy tapped his visible friend on the back. A great intensity colored the reptile's expression whilst instilling fear into its opponent. The familiar warmth of friendship renewed. Smiles flickered across the mouths of Damion and Tyranitar.
But it was back to business soon after. The Trainer gestured a hand towards his former classmate. The Armor Pokémon nodded in concurrence and proceeded to press Jamie's head steadily against the tree bark. An air of arrogance resurfaced atop Damion's lips. He bent down near Jamie's ear.
"Excuse me, James," he ridiculed. "I'm here to collect." Tyranitar loosed a triumphant roar, releasing the pressure from its tri-clawed paw. Jamie collapsed to the ground like a failed spaghetti test.
"Collect what?" Jamie retorted.
"You owe me at least 600 for that L we just handed you. I know you got it."
In defeat, Pokémon Trainers must fork over at least three percent of their in-pocket cash. If one refused to pay, one risked being reported to the local authorities. A search warrant would issue in one's name, allowing officers to hunt one down until completion – simply never worth the hassle.
"Here's seven," Jamie said, adding another hundred.
"Thanks, Jimmy. You made quite the mistake here today. Next time it'll cost you more than loose change."
"Understood. And I-I'm sorry."
"You should be."
Damion shoved the cash in his Bag's side pocket and wasted no more time returning to his newfound mission. He stepped over Gerald's sprawled body, which was quivering from temporary paralysis. Moe suffered the same outcome. Damion crouched next to the stylish one and smirked.
"Consider this my inconvenience fee," he said, removing Moe's black hat and surgeon's mask. He flipped the mask inside out and attached its strings around his ears. The hat needed a slight adjustment; at the hands of its new owner two notches wider it became.
Many miles separated Route 44 and Goldenrod City. Damion had experience on this path. However, it would take hours to reach his destination on foot. So, after an overdue hug and some welcoming pats on the back, Tyranitar accepted rest inside its Ultra Ball. Umbreon and Haunter followed suit. If Damion were to reach the Magnet Train before sunset, he would need to take flight. Xatu made an appearance.
The Mystic Pokémon began fluttering her feathers, preparing their exit from Route 44. Damion halted her motion for a moment of clarity. He called out to his invisible ally.
"Mewtwo, do you hear me?"
"I do," it said, making its presence known with sound but not sight.
"Please, forgive me for earlier."
". . ."
"And thank you for bringing Tyranitar to me. You showed up just in the nick of time."
"I now worry about you, young Trainer. I am unsure whether you are prepared to face the challenges ahead."
"Pride got the best of me that time. But it won't happen again. From now on, if I am in serious danger, I trust that you'll take care of me. I'm grateful for our bond."
"As am I, though I do not wish to associate our meeting with regret."
"I'm not Red. I won't leave your side."
"Yes, you are different. The clasp of deceit lurks nonetheless. I will take you to Celadon. There we will separate temporarily. When I ret–"
"Hold it. I can't let you do that."
"I do not need your permission, human."
"Look, if you need to go fly off somewhere that's your business. But I can't be seen teleporting everywhere. It's suspicious."
"The same can be said about your disguise. What is the purpose of this mask?"
"What's the purpose of those floating feathers?"
". . ."
". . ."
". . ."
"Goodbye, Mewtwo."
Damion mounted the back of the Mystic Pokémon. It followed the target of Goldenrod's famed tower. The boy preferred travelling on foot. Long walks nourished his contemplative mind.
In a few minutes they would arrive. And in those minutes he thought of Skylar – her eyes, her gloss, her ambience. He wondered what to say once they reunited. Maybe a hi, perhaps a hello – there were too many things to overthink. At times, Damion hated when he behaved like this.
"Paralysis by analysis," some called it. The thought of impressing a girl, or anyone for that matter, made him cringe. He believed judgment belonged to the gods. Yet once again he caught himself in a game of hypocrisy. He judged his peers for their alleged lack of passion for the art of Pokémon training. Shouldn't I accept them for who they want to be? he pondered.
Damion acknowledged his treatment towards Jamie as slightly unfair. He questioned if Skylar would remain interested if she saw the truth in his actions. She was the first girl he ever planned to visit. A flock of new feelings arose inside the boy's gut like Butterfree on an open plain.
He assumed however they greeted that he would surely fall short of expectations. So instead he brewed a withdrawal strategy, for he decided he could not stay in Celadon for long. Duty awaited him. As much as he enjoyed Skylar's company, Damion doubted she could handle his method of operations. Goldenrod loomed regardless.
Xatu landed at the doorstep of Johto's largest Pokémon Center. Though he had visited times before, Damion basked in the grandeur of Goldenrod. Tourists and residents alike scurried the streets, indulging in all of the city's attractions. A Normal-type Pokémon Gym resided in its northeast corner. A cloud-gazing Department Store situated just east of the Pokémon Center. Directly behind the Center, many tried their luck at the Game Corner casino. To the far west was the Radio Tower. Damion's destination was due north.
While the streets may not have been paved in gold, they indeed held a distinct luster. Following Xatu's return to her Poké Ball, the anxious Trainer set his sights on the Magnet Train station. Once inside he took his place behind two families of four, a young Lass, a blonde Bird Keeper with a Spearow on his shoulder and a set of adolescent twin girls who matched pink dresses with pink bows in their hair. When the Bird Keeper was granted entrance into the maglev, Damion reached for the spare cash he stowed in his Bag's side pocket.
His heart beat faster upon realizing his blunder. Both little girls showed their Pass to the attendant. He welcomed them with the warmest of smiles. Damion stepped ahead, lowering his mask to appear friendlier.
"How much do I owe ya?" The boy pretended not to know the procedure.
"Your money's no good here, sir," the attendant replied. "Didn't you read the signs?"
Sighs came from the pending passengers in the queue. Sweat bundled in the pits of the boy's arms. He knew something was not right when he entered the station. He always borrowed a Magnet Train Pass from Clair whenever he needed to cross regions. It slipped both their minds during their familial drama. His only option now was to turn around and fly back home.
Damion's desire to continue this current course of action dwindled as groans bubbled behind him. He began apologizing to the station's attendant – that is, until the sweet sound of saving grace intervened.
"Hey you!" the voice said, pushing through the crowd. Damion's thoughts came alive. There stood Skylar in nearly all-white attire, beaming a mile-wide smile. She rushed to the front of the line.
"Sup, Scooter. He's with me. See?" She flashed two Premier Passes to the attendant.
"You're a lucky guy," said Scooter, looking at Damion.
"You can say that again," he replied, staring into Skylar's greenish-brown eyes. She led the way in through the Magnet Train doors. They stopped at the heart of the train, gripping each of the overhead handle bars. The final cluster of passengers filed in as the automated conductor buzzed on the speaker system. Reading the boy's nerves, Skylar squeezed in a joke before their departure.
"Look at that," she initiated, "you're wearing all black; I'm wearing all white. I guess opposites really do attract." She nudged his right shoulder with her left and chuckled. Damion missed the punchline.
"Get it? We're on the Magnet Train. . ."
"Oh, wow," he answered, scratching between his braids. Knee against knee, elbow to elbow, they shared a laugh. He glanced in her direction as their train commenced and the scene faded to black.
