Pairing : Many people want to know if this is an Ash/Misty. No, it is not. It's primarily a James/Misty fic with hints at a past relationship between Ash/Misty that left them friends
DISTRIBUTION: Any archives "Yes!" Others please ask, I'll say yes but
I'd like the URL.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own them, am not affiliated with them, though if they ever want to give James away I'd be more than willing to take him in . . .
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please don't flame because this is not A/M fic. I wanted to try this pairing.
FEEDBACK: Oh, please? It keeps the muse happy.
DEDICATION: To Laura, who's suffering from writers' block, poor thing!
Please note: This is not standard Pokemon fanfiction. It is set seven years in the future. Ash is a great Pokemon Master and works for the League. Misty is a Water Master and Broc a renowned pokemon breeder. The trio has been split up for seven years. James and Jessie no longer work under Giovanni for Team Rocket. They are still together but work as assassins for hire.
*All thoughts are displayed in bold Italics*
WARNING: This fic may contain scenes of graphic violence, sex and inappropriate language.
CHAPTER ONE
She'd been pacing for twenty minutes. Once her anger at herself had boiled over, all she was left with was a haunting sense of responsibility. Her gyradose was known through out the league guild as the best-trained and most powerful water pokemon to have surfaced in decades. The thought of it lost, or worse yet, fallen into the wrong hands, had caused her endless grief since she returned from the pokemon expo earlier that evening.
Seething, Mysteria sat down with paper and pen and began composing. After many rough drafts she got out her credit card, picked the receiver off the cradle, and dialed the classifieds.
* * *
"Damn it all!" said the youthful voice. The moonlight barely reached the alley where he was standing and conversing with his partner.
"I'm sorry it didn't work," the other replied, "He wasn't supposed to be able to handle the car that well." The deep voice was shockingly incongruous with the silhouette of an old woman and her cart.
"Yeah," the young voice answered, "I guess we have to do more research before we try again. I just don't like losing. I'm used to being the best."
"No sweat, amigo, you're still the best. Tell you what, I'm heading back to base to change outta this ridiculous get-up before someone offers to help me cross the street. Coming?"
"Nah, go on without me, I'm going for a walk."
"Fine, see ya." the form of an old lady swaggering actively down the street made quite a few people frown in confusion.
Back in the alley, finally alone, Ash swore to get to James and Jessie. The rest of his mission depended on it.
* * *
The next morning James was woken entirely too early for the liking of a devout sybarite such as himself. His perfect dreamworld was ruptured by the insistent ringing of his bedside telephone. James, eyes still shut, reached blindly out to knock it off the cradle. Anything to stop the ringing. He lurched, misbalanced, and found himself in a tangle of bed linen on the floor. His eyes were still closed and, in denial of his position, he refused to open them and give smirking reality the upper hand.
The phone stopped and James breathed a sigh of relief. But then, like some awful conspiring of the fates, his mobile began its shrill soprano from a long forgotten piece of clothing he'd worn last night. He got up, tripped over everything from the sheets around his ankles, random furniture and his own feet and finally, he found the phone.
"Yes?" he mumbled grouchily.
"James?" it was Jessie, "It's about time you woke up!" she snapped, "I have something of interest to you."
"But Jess," whined James, hardly up to going out, "Where are you?"
"Downstairs." Jessica said simply.
James entire demeanor changed. "You're downstairs?" he asked coolly. "You phoned me from in the house and woke me over something that could have probably waited?"
Jessie could hear he was grinding his teeth. She cringed; this was not going to be an easy morning. James could be as difficult as she could, though not as prone to violence. "But James . . ." she started. He cut her off. "I'll come down when I'm ready to." he said darkly, and hung up. Then James restored his dignity and his blankets to their rightful place and climbed back into bed.
* * *
He went down at midday, much refreshed but not having forgiven Jessie her earlier interruption. His heart was set on sulking, but unfortunately Jessie knew him too well and had anticipated this standoffish behavior.
In the sunroom, James's breakfast was laid out, something he usually did himself. Jessie had done all this herself in a silent attempt to make-up, as trusting any domestic employee would have been too hazardous to consider. Smirking, she lastly included the morning paper, opened on the classifieds.
Ten minutes later James came running into the gym, where Jessie was enjoying beating the, uh, *dust* out of the punching bag. She stopped upon hearing his exuberant entrance and, smilingly, she raised an eyebrow and inquired exactly *what* was so exciting, though she knew full well.
"She's in the paper! She's in the paper!" He exclaimed, waving the classifieds frantically in the air. He cleared his throat officiously and began to read:
"Lost.
One metallic blue Pokeball gone missing
at yesterday's Pokemon expo. If found
please do not open, ball contains one
hostile gyradose, treat with extreme caution.
Owner established Water-Pokemon Master.
Reward offered. Call 085 3306947 A.S.A.P."
James was ecstatic, half his work had been done for him. "Jessie!" He squealed, "I don't have to track her down, the stupid little girl left her contact number!" Jessie, who was now feeling fully included and considering this her project as well (if not even her idea), made a valuable contribution to the plot. "James, my lanky bundle of exuberance, before you contact her, we should get the blackmail and bait in order, don't you think? After all, an out & out kidnap and holding would be *so* much more work."
* * *
James blew into his hands and rubbed them together. He grinned at the telephone. Behind him Jessie rolled her eyes, "It's just a phone call, James."
"But it's a *special* phone call Jessie!"
"Why? It's no-one important, just a little member of Team Twerp."
"Yes, well . . ." James turned away, but not before Jessie caught sight of the tell-tale blush staining his cheeks.
No, thought Jessie, not a crush. Her eyes narrowed calculatingly.
"Why James, you dawg!" she drawled. "Who'd have thought. You and suspender-girl!"
"There wasn't anything between us…" James hastily said.
"But you had a thing for the pony-tailed wonder?" needled Jessie.
"Perhaps . . ."James conceded. He lifted the phone and dialed the number. James didn't bother with a voice synthesizer and he knew theirs was an untraceable line. He dialed the number.
"Hello?" The voice was quiet, exhausted filled with worry. It sounded as though she had been crying. Despite this all, James could recognize the voice of the girl who had been in voice of the woman who was.
"I have it." He said, by way of mysterious introduction.
"What?" Misty, after receiving so many false alarms, struggled to believe it.
"Your Pokeball."
Though the person wasn't speaking much, Misty found the voice hazily familiar. "How do I know for sure?" countered Misty.
"Your name," the voice drawled, "You didn't mention in the paper your name was engraved on it, but it is" The person sounded self-assured and very confident to Misty. Almost too confident . . .
"You're right." She agreed, and proceeded to assure the person that they would receive a large reward. Whoever it was didn't seem overly enthusiastic and that in itself was very suspicious.
'I don't want your money." He cut in, "I take my rewards differently. Meet me at the scarlet café at 9pm tonight. Wear red." And the line went dead.
Misty was shaken by the uncompromising stranger.
Meanwhile, back at the estate, James was congratulating himself. She'd show up, she'd wear red like he wanted her to, and after tonight, she'd do anything he told her. James smiled, sometimes his genius surprised himself.
DISTRIBUTION: Any archives "Yes!" Others please ask, I'll say yes but
I'd like the URL.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own them, am not affiliated with them, though if they ever want to give James away I'd be more than willing to take him in . . .
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please don't flame because this is not A/M fic. I wanted to try this pairing.
FEEDBACK: Oh, please? It keeps the muse happy.
DEDICATION: To Laura, who's suffering from writers' block, poor thing!
Please note: This is not standard Pokemon fanfiction. It is set seven years in the future. Ash is a great Pokemon Master and works for the League. Misty is a Water Master and Broc a renowned pokemon breeder. The trio has been split up for seven years. James and Jessie no longer work under Giovanni for Team Rocket. They are still together but work as assassins for hire.
*All thoughts are displayed in bold Italics*
WARNING: This fic may contain scenes of graphic violence, sex and inappropriate language.
CHAPTER ONE
She'd been pacing for twenty minutes. Once her anger at herself had boiled over, all she was left with was a haunting sense of responsibility. Her gyradose was known through out the league guild as the best-trained and most powerful water pokemon to have surfaced in decades. The thought of it lost, or worse yet, fallen into the wrong hands, had caused her endless grief since she returned from the pokemon expo earlier that evening.
Seething, Mysteria sat down with paper and pen and began composing. After many rough drafts she got out her credit card, picked the receiver off the cradle, and dialed the classifieds.
* * *
"Damn it all!" said the youthful voice. The moonlight barely reached the alley where he was standing and conversing with his partner.
"I'm sorry it didn't work," the other replied, "He wasn't supposed to be able to handle the car that well." The deep voice was shockingly incongruous with the silhouette of an old woman and her cart.
"Yeah," the young voice answered, "I guess we have to do more research before we try again. I just don't like losing. I'm used to being the best."
"No sweat, amigo, you're still the best. Tell you what, I'm heading back to base to change outta this ridiculous get-up before someone offers to help me cross the street. Coming?"
"Nah, go on without me, I'm going for a walk."
"Fine, see ya." the form of an old lady swaggering actively down the street made quite a few people frown in confusion.
Back in the alley, finally alone, Ash swore to get to James and Jessie. The rest of his mission depended on it.
* * *
The next morning James was woken entirely too early for the liking of a devout sybarite such as himself. His perfect dreamworld was ruptured by the insistent ringing of his bedside telephone. James, eyes still shut, reached blindly out to knock it off the cradle. Anything to stop the ringing. He lurched, misbalanced, and found himself in a tangle of bed linen on the floor. His eyes were still closed and, in denial of his position, he refused to open them and give smirking reality the upper hand.
The phone stopped and James breathed a sigh of relief. But then, like some awful conspiring of the fates, his mobile began its shrill soprano from a long forgotten piece of clothing he'd worn last night. He got up, tripped over everything from the sheets around his ankles, random furniture and his own feet and finally, he found the phone.
"Yes?" he mumbled grouchily.
"James?" it was Jessie, "It's about time you woke up!" she snapped, "I have something of interest to you."
"But Jess," whined James, hardly up to going out, "Where are you?"
"Downstairs." Jessica said simply.
James entire demeanor changed. "You're downstairs?" he asked coolly. "You phoned me from in the house and woke me over something that could have probably waited?"
Jessie could hear he was grinding his teeth. She cringed; this was not going to be an easy morning. James could be as difficult as she could, though not as prone to violence. "But James . . ." she started. He cut her off. "I'll come down when I'm ready to." he said darkly, and hung up. Then James restored his dignity and his blankets to their rightful place and climbed back into bed.
* * *
He went down at midday, much refreshed but not having forgiven Jessie her earlier interruption. His heart was set on sulking, but unfortunately Jessie knew him too well and had anticipated this standoffish behavior.
In the sunroom, James's breakfast was laid out, something he usually did himself. Jessie had done all this herself in a silent attempt to make-up, as trusting any domestic employee would have been too hazardous to consider. Smirking, she lastly included the morning paper, opened on the classifieds.
Ten minutes later James came running into the gym, where Jessie was enjoying beating the, uh, *dust* out of the punching bag. She stopped upon hearing his exuberant entrance and, smilingly, she raised an eyebrow and inquired exactly *what* was so exciting, though she knew full well.
"She's in the paper! She's in the paper!" He exclaimed, waving the classifieds frantically in the air. He cleared his throat officiously and began to read:
"Lost.
One metallic blue Pokeball gone missing
at yesterday's Pokemon expo. If found
please do not open, ball contains one
hostile gyradose, treat with extreme caution.
Owner established Water-Pokemon Master.
Reward offered. Call 085 3306947 A.S.A.P."
James was ecstatic, half his work had been done for him. "Jessie!" He squealed, "I don't have to track her down, the stupid little girl left her contact number!" Jessie, who was now feeling fully included and considering this her project as well (if not even her idea), made a valuable contribution to the plot. "James, my lanky bundle of exuberance, before you contact her, we should get the blackmail and bait in order, don't you think? After all, an out & out kidnap and holding would be *so* much more work."
* * *
James blew into his hands and rubbed them together. He grinned at the telephone. Behind him Jessie rolled her eyes, "It's just a phone call, James."
"But it's a *special* phone call Jessie!"
"Why? It's no-one important, just a little member of Team Twerp."
"Yes, well . . ." James turned away, but not before Jessie caught sight of the tell-tale blush staining his cheeks.
No, thought Jessie, not a crush. Her eyes narrowed calculatingly.
"Why James, you dawg!" she drawled. "Who'd have thought. You and suspender-girl!"
"There wasn't anything between us…" James hastily said.
"But you had a thing for the pony-tailed wonder?" needled Jessie.
"Perhaps . . ."James conceded. He lifted the phone and dialed the number. James didn't bother with a voice synthesizer and he knew theirs was an untraceable line. He dialed the number.
"Hello?" The voice was quiet, exhausted filled with worry. It sounded as though she had been crying. Despite this all, James could recognize the voice of the girl who had been in voice of the woman who was.
"I have it." He said, by way of mysterious introduction.
"What?" Misty, after receiving so many false alarms, struggled to believe it.
"Your Pokeball."
Though the person wasn't speaking much, Misty found the voice hazily familiar. "How do I know for sure?" countered Misty.
"Your name," the voice drawled, "You didn't mention in the paper your name was engraved on it, but it is" The person sounded self-assured and very confident to Misty. Almost too confident . . .
"You're right." She agreed, and proceeded to assure the person that they would receive a large reward. Whoever it was didn't seem overly enthusiastic and that in itself was very suspicious.
'I don't want your money." He cut in, "I take my rewards differently. Meet me at the scarlet café at 9pm tonight. Wear red." And the line went dead.
Misty was shaken by the uncompromising stranger.
Meanwhile, back at the estate, James was congratulating himself. She'd show up, she'd wear red like he wanted her to, and after tonight, she'd do anything he told her. James smiled, sometimes his genius surprised himself.