The Master Six
Chapter Six
And so the days seemed to blend together.
I lived a prosperous life of catching wild pokemon and beating worthless pokemon trainers. With the help of my magical flute I could catch any pokemon I wanted. My collection now included a Vulpix, a Zubat, a Paras, all sorts of pokemon. But I didn't need them in fights. I had Max, and I had the flute. That is all I needed. Max was growing in levels, and I think he is very close to evolving into Pidgeotto, but not yet.
I had beaten many pokemon trainers, ranging from little boys to timely old gentlemen. It was glorious. I even won my first badge.
That's right. I had a gym trainer's badge.
I beat Brock in Pewter City.
I had the Boulder Badge.
I was pretty excited. But it was only one badge of many. I would need a lot more to eventually go up against the Elite Four. I would have to beat Sabrina, Lt. Surge, and of course, Misty.
I would someday have to return to my beloved Cerulean City and defeat my beloved Misty in pokemon combat. But, it wouldn't be a problem with my flute. I had fitted Max with some special earplugs, so he wasn't affected by the music. Then I would play, my opponent's pokemon would fall, and Max would K.O. them. It was easy. I was getting a reputation.
I was known the world over as:
The Whistler.
It was fantastic. Aunt Janet was proud of me, as she said in every letter I would get from her. I was a very famous pokemon trainer, even though some people were concerned with my using the flute to beat people at fights. Some really snotty people considered it cheating of some sort, but that didn't faze me. I was on a role, and nothing would stop me. My collection was growing, as was my change purse.
I had been all over the place, and then back again. I toured the Safari Zone, and visited a Snorlax (but I couldn't catch it). I played the slots at the Celadon City Game Corner and had a stay on the S.S. Anne. I was a hero to some, a villain to others. But none of that really mattered to me; I was an amazing pokemon trainer.
I wasn't good enough to attract the attention of any big time guns yet, but I was the top of all the small levels of trainers. Whistler was a champion in training. Bound for greatness. It was a beautiful time. Possibly the greatest time in my life.
I was way past due for an abrupt change in plans.
* * * *
I moved swiftly through the brush.
My objective was close, I could feel it.
I hugged the ground, running hunched over to stay hidden. I was close. I heard the screech of the Pidgey in the air, but I kept moving. Time was of the essence, and not to be wasted.
I stood. It was mid-afternoon, and the sun was just beginning to set. Cool, but not cold. Perfect. I pulled some grass out of the ground and tossed it into the air. West, the wind was blowing west. I crouched down on the ground again, and took off. I paused, and looked up into the air. I saw the Pidgey was made the noise, and I saw where it circled. That is where my prey would be. The hunt was now truly on! I sniffed at the air, I couldn't smell anything. My senses were not that accurate.
But I knew to keep moving. It wouldn't stand still forever. I was moving quickly, but also dead silent. Just over the next hill, in the clearing. Close, so close. I could taste it.
Now, on top of the hill. Pausing to look around at my surroundings. I was in a wood, on top of a little hill, and in front of me was a clearing. And nestled in the clearing was my prey.
A Nidoran. Male.
Slowly now. Don't think too much about it. Just make the kill. It would be quick, it would be easy. Slowly open the button on the pocket. Slowly reach into said pocket. Quietly draw out the flute. Calmly bring it to the lips. Position the fingers. And slowly...
FLIT!
The dart moved faster than the human I could see. I shot in from somewhere to the left of my position, and struck the Nidoran right in the middle of its forehead. A perfect shot. In an instant, even faster than my flute, the Nidoran was out cold. The dart had put it to sleep. I had lost my catch. Correction:
Someone had stolen my catch.
My catch! My Nidoran!
"What!?" I shouted jumping up form my position.
Max sailed down, and perched himself on my shoulder. He started preening his feathers.
"Yessss!" a voice shouted from the woods. A male voice.
"Alright then whoever you are!" I shouted to this person, "show yourself. You just stole my Nidoran!"
"Your Nidoran?" the voice said, closer this time, "what makes you think it's your Nidoran?"
He came out of the words. A boy, about my age. He had rough, dirty-blond hair, which he wore at medium length. He had on a dark green sweatshirt, worn-out blue jeans. He carried small yellowish tube in his right hand, and a small bag in the other.
He was cute. Very cute.
"You were saying Miss," he stood in front of me.
"Um...hello," I said weakly, then, "yeah buddy. I was saying that you stole my Nidoran. I was setting up for the catch, and then you shot it and took it. You took my pokemon!"
"Hey," he responded, "I don't think so. It was still wild; you didn't have your name on it. Besides, I had him in my shot long before you would have thrown out a pokemon to fight it with."
"Sorry to inform you slick," I shot back, "but I don't catch pokemon by weakening them. I don't suppose a loser like you would have heard of me. I'm...Whistler."
"Whistler huh?" he said not impressed, "I think I've heard of you. You're the one with the magic flute that knocks pokemon out. Big deal. I didn't hear any music, which means it wasn't your Nidoran."
"Fine, you keep it!" I nearly shouted, "I can catch another any time I want to."
"Okay," he said, "now that we're done fighting. My name's Gavin."
We shook hands.
"Hello Gavin," I said, "I'm Heather. Or, of course, Whistler."
"Yes, and I really am pleased to meet you. I have heard of you before. Who hasn't? You're a pretty big contender out in the field. Like Marc from Pewter City, or that Gary from Pallet Town. You're making a name for yourself."
"Well thank you Gavin. I guess I am pretty famous. I owe it all to Max and my flute. I'm going all the way to the top. Most likely even Pokemon League. Or even the Elite Four. Elite Five would be a good change don't you think."
"Don't get ahead of yourself there Whistler. You only have one badge as the legend of The Whistler goes. You're not that great anyway. I out caught you."
"Yeah, about that. What's with the dart and that tube you got there?"
"Oh, ahem. Allow me to introduce myself Whistler. I am Shooter. Armed with these special tranquilizer darts I have created, I can put any pokemon in the world into a deep sleep. So deep it can't even be countered with an Awakening. I have this blow dart gun, which can launch these little darts at amazing speeds. I just stick in a dart, and blow. Then the pokemon I've aimed at is struck with whatever ailment is in the dart. I have tranquilizers, poisons, even potions to heal my own pokemon.
"I've also created my own solutions to load into the darts. There is one that affects the nerve ending in pokemon, numbing their entire bodies. I also have a series of element-based darts that can counteract the elements of a pokemon. For example, a fire pokemon shot with a freeze dart will lose all fire abilities. I've caught a lot of pokemon, and beat a lot of trainers with my weapon."
"Wow," I was impressed, "that's pretty impressive. But how do you use the dart gun in a fight. It can't be legal. Can it?"
"How interesting coming from you. I believe your whistle there is on the brink of illegality."
Illegality?
"I get to use my flute in a battle because pokeflutes are allowed. My just works in a different way. Besides, it doesn't K.O. a pokemon. And I bet you have some darts which can cause an instant K.O."
"Actually, I don't. I don't need any kind of dart like that. And, to answer your question, allow me to introduce my sidekick, Stryker."
In an instant, a Machop appeared in front of me. Its appearance ruffled Max's feathers a little, but he was okay.
"Stryker?"
"Yes, Stryker," he answered, "Stryker is a Machop, obviously, and I have trained him to blow the dart gun in a fight. It's perfectly legal if my pokemon does it."
"So, basically we are both just pokemon trainers who rely a lot on equipment rather than pokemon. We both only have level one pokemon leading our fights, but yet we both have big reputations. Or at least I do."
"My reputation isn't so bad."
"I didn't say it was."
"Okay then. What do we do now?"
"What do you mean what do 'we do now? I'm going on to Celdon City to the department store. You can go wherever you want."
"Oh come on. You're a nice person, pretty cool. We could hang out for a while. Make a name for yourselves. Why bother joining the Elite Four. We could make our own pokemon fighting team. C'mon, what do you say?"
What could I say? I just met this kid. This Shooter. We apparently had a lot in common. We both depended on weapons to catch our pokemon, and win our fights. Also, this prospect of a team was actually kind of interesting. My own pokemon team. It would be perfect. Me and Shooter, and then the rest of our teammates. We would train, and learn to work together, and then challenge the Elite Four. I met Shooter through my flute; maybe this was also part of my shrouded destiny. My own pokemon team. What could I say?
"You know what?" I said to him, "what the heck. We could hang out together for a little while. We could try to make a team, like the Elite Four, or even that Team Rocket that's always in the news. Okay Shooter, let's go."
We shook hands.
"Okay Whistler, let's," he answered, "this day will go down into history my friend. This is the beginning of a new and better life."
Indeed.
It was.
Chapter Six
And so the days seemed to blend together.
I lived a prosperous life of catching wild pokemon and beating worthless pokemon trainers. With the help of my magical flute I could catch any pokemon I wanted. My collection now included a Vulpix, a Zubat, a Paras, all sorts of pokemon. But I didn't need them in fights. I had Max, and I had the flute. That is all I needed. Max was growing in levels, and I think he is very close to evolving into Pidgeotto, but not yet.
I had beaten many pokemon trainers, ranging from little boys to timely old gentlemen. It was glorious. I even won my first badge.
That's right. I had a gym trainer's badge.
I beat Brock in Pewter City.
I had the Boulder Badge.
I was pretty excited. But it was only one badge of many. I would need a lot more to eventually go up against the Elite Four. I would have to beat Sabrina, Lt. Surge, and of course, Misty.
I would someday have to return to my beloved Cerulean City and defeat my beloved Misty in pokemon combat. But, it wouldn't be a problem with my flute. I had fitted Max with some special earplugs, so he wasn't affected by the music. Then I would play, my opponent's pokemon would fall, and Max would K.O. them. It was easy. I was getting a reputation.
I was known the world over as:
The Whistler.
It was fantastic. Aunt Janet was proud of me, as she said in every letter I would get from her. I was a very famous pokemon trainer, even though some people were concerned with my using the flute to beat people at fights. Some really snotty people considered it cheating of some sort, but that didn't faze me. I was on a role, and nothing would stop me. My collection was growing, as was my change purse.
I had been all over the place, and then back again. I toured the Safari Zone, and visited a Snorlax (but I couldn't catch it). I played the slots at the Celadon City Game Corner and had a stay on the S.S. Anne. I was a hero to some, a villain to others. But none of that really mattered to me; I was an amazing pokemon trainer.
I wasn't good enough to attract the attention of any big time guns yet, but I was the top of all the small levels of trainers. Whistler was a champion in training. Bound for greatness. It was a beautiful time. Possibly the greatest time in my life.
I was way past due for an abrupt change in plans.
* * * *
I moved swiftly through the brush.
My objective was close, I could feel it.
I hugged the ground, running hunched over to stay hidden. I was close. I heard the screech of the Pidgey in the air, but I kept moving. Time was of the essence, and not to be wasted.
I stood. It was mid-afternoon, and the sun was just beginning to set. Cool, but not cold. Perfect. I pulled some grass out of the ground and tossed it into the air. West, the wind was blowing west. I crouched down on the ground again, and took off. I paused, and looked up into the air. I saw the Pidgey was made the noise, and I saw where it circled. That is where my prey would be. The hunt was now truly on! I sniffed at the air, I couldn't smell anything. My senses were not that accurate.
But I knew to keep moving. It wouldn't stand still forever. I was moving quickly, but also dead silent. Just over the next hill, in the clearing. Close, so close. I could taste it.
Now, on top of the hill. Pausing to look around at my surroundings. I was in a wood, on top of a little hill, and in front of me was a clearing. And nestled in the clearing was my prey.
A Nidoran. Male.
Slowly now. Don't think too much about it. Just make the kill. It would be quick, it would be easy. Slowly open the button on the pocket. Slowly reach into said pocket. Quietly draw out the flute. Calmly bring it to the lips. Position the fingers. And slowly...
FLIT!
The dart moved faster than the human I could see. I shot in from somewhere to the left of my position, and struck the Nidoran right in the middle of its forehead. A perfect shot. In an instant, even faster than my flute, the Nidoran was out cold. The dart had put it to sleep. I had lost my catch. Correction:
Someone had stolen my catch.
My catch! My Nidoran!
"What!?" I shouted jumping up form my position.
Max sailed down, and perched himself on my shoulder. He started preening his feathers.
"Yessss!" a voice shouted from the woods. A male voice.
"Alright then whoever you are!" I shouted to this person, "show yourself. You just stole my Nidoran!"
"Your Nidoran?" the voice said, closer this time, "what makes you think it's your Nidoran?"
He came out of the words. A boy, about my age. He had rough, dirty-blond hair, which he wore at medium length. He had on a dark green sweatshirt, worn-out blue jeans. He carried small yellowish tube in his right hand, and a small bag in the other.
He was cute. Very cute.
"You were saying Miss," he stood in front of me.
"Um...hello," I said weakly, then, "yeah buddy. I was saying that you stole my Nidoran. I was setting up for the catch, and then you shot it and took it. You took my pokemon!"
"Hey," he responded, "I don't think so. It was still wild; you didn't have your name on it. Besides, I had him in my shot long before you would have thrown out a pokemon to fight it with."
"Sorry to inform you slick," I shot back, "but I don't catch pokemon by weakening them. I don't suppose a loser like you would have heard of me. I'm...Whistler."
"Whistler huh?" he said not impressed, "I think I've heard of you. You're the one with the magic flute that knocks pokemon out. Big deal. I didn't hear any music, which means it wasn't your Nidoran."
"Fine, you keep it!" I nearly shouted, "I can catch another any time I want to."
"Okay," he said, "now that we're done fighting. My name's Gavin."
We shook hands.
"Hello Gavin," I said, "I'm Heather. Or, of course, Whistler."
"Yes, and I really am pleased to meet you. I have heard of you before. Who hasn't? You're a pretty big contender out in the field. Like Marc from Pewter City, or that Gary from Pallet Town. You're making a name for yourself."
"Well thank you Gavin. I guess I am pretty famous. I owe it all to Max and my flute. I'm going all the way to the top. Most likely even Pokemon League. Or even the Elite Four. Elite Five would be a good change don't you think."
"Don't get ahead of yourself there Whistler. You only have one badge as the legend of The Whistler goes. You're not that great anyway. I out caught you."
"Yeah, about that. What's with the dart and that tube you got there?"
"Oh, ahem. Allow me to introduce myself Whistler. I am Shooter. Armed with these special tranquilizer darts I have created, I can put any pokemon in the world into a deep sleep. So deep it can't even be countered with an Awakening. I have this blow dart gun, which can launch these little darts at amazing speeds. I just stick in a dart, and blow. Then the pokemon I've aimed at is struck with whatever ailment is in the dart. I have tranquilizers, poisons, even potions to heal my own pokemon.
"I've also created my own solutions to load into the darts. There is one that affects the nerve ending in pokemon, numbing their entire bodies. I also have a series of element-based darts that can counteract the elements of a pokemon. For example, a fire pokemon shot with a freeze dart will lose all fire abilities. I've caught a lot of pokemon, and beat a lot of trainers with my weapon."
"Wow," I was impressed, "that's pretty impressive. But how do you use the dart gun in a fight. It can't be legal. Can it?"
"How interesting coming from you. I believe your whistle there is on the brink of illegality."
Illegality?
"I get to use my flute in a battle because pokeflutes are allowed. My just works in a different way. Besides, it doesn't K.O. a pokemon. And I bet you have some darts which can cause an instant K.O."
"Actually, I don't. I don't need any kind of dart like that. And, to answer your question, allow me to introduce my sidekick, Stryker."
In an instant, a Machop appeared in front of me. Its appearance ruffled Max's feathers a little, but he was okay.
"Stryker?"
"Yes, Stryker," he answered, "Stryker is a Machop, obviously, and I have trained him to blow the dart gun in a fight. It's perfectly legal if my pokemon does it."
"So, basically we are both just pokemon trainers who rely a lot on equipment rather than pokemon. We both only have level one pokemon leading our fights, but yet we both have big reputations. Or at least I do."
"My reputation isn't so bad."
"I didn't say it was."
"Okay then. What do we do now?"
"What do you mean what do 'we do now? I'm going on to Celdon City to the department store. You can go wherever you want."
"Oh come on. You're a nice person, pretty cool. We could hang out for a while. Make a name for yourselves. Why bother joining the Elite Four. We could make our own pokemon fighting team. C'mon, what do you say?"
What could I say? I just met this kid. This Shooter. We apparently had a lot in common. We both depended on weapons to catch our pokemon, and win our fights. Also, this prospect of a team was actually kind of interesting. My own pokemon team. It would be perfect. Me and Shooter, and then the rest of our teammates. We would train, and learn to work together, and then challenge the Elite Four. I met Shooter through my flute; maybe this was also part of my shrouded destiny. My own pokemon team. What could I say?
"You know what?" I said to him, "what the heck. We could hang out together for a little while. We could try to make a team, like the Elite Four, or even that Team Rocket that's always in the news. Okay Shooter, let's go."
We shook hands.
"Okay Whistler, let's," he answered, "this day will go down into history my friend. This is the beginning of a new and better life."
Indeed.
It was.
