Chapter One-A Long Night Viridian Asylum 4:00pm

Ash

Silence. Utter silence. It's very comforting. And the dark colors. I got those by request and good behavior. I never liked really bright colors, so I requested a darker colored cell. Since I'd be here a while, and the aforementioned good behavior, I got this custom cell. It's a good place to think. And thinking is all that keeps me sane in this loony bin. It surprised me how hard it was to keep sane here. Time would start to blur, and days would become weeks, weeks would become months, until eventually I lost the concept of time. I could have been here ten years and not known it. And what was worse is that I didn't care. I don't know myself anymore. I think I used to be a nice guy. I remember I always used to help out someone if they were in need...but those were my younger days. Should I try to think of an event a little more recent, my temples would start to pound, my pulse would start to race, my mind would start to blur, and I would lose touch with reality. Once I was unconscious for nearly six hours after an attempt to recall my memories. I once mentioned these lapses to the resident shrink, but all he said was that whatever happened must have been very traumatic for me. Well, duh. The memories of my past wouldn't be blocked from my own mind if I had been happy and content. But I know for a fact he knows more than he lets on. "Ashura? Ashura, are you awake?" I jumped. Geez, he could have knocked first. "Yeah, come in."

The door opened and the doctor walked in, accompanied by a pair of Machoke. The Pokémon unbuckled my straitjacket, and I let my arms fall into my lap. The Machoke brought in a couple of chairs, then walked out of the cell and stood at the door. I slowly got up from my sitting position. My voice came out all cracked and harsh, "So? What are you doing here?" He looked startled, but replied, "I-It's time for our weekly session. Why, is there something wrong?" Does he honestly think I wouldn't notice that he looked like he'd been through hell and back? No, he knows me better. Must be something major. "Nah, nothing in particular. Get run over by a truck or something?" He nervously fiddled with his clipboard, stalling for time. Why? Is it that big? "Come on doc, spit it out. What's got you so choked up?" He let out a sigh and picked up his clipboard. "Well...the results of your psychiatric evaluation came in today..." He trailed off. Hmmm. I get it now. "So when do I get shipped off to prison? Or are am I to be executed?" He eased up a bit and let out a stifled laugh. "Hah...no, Ashura, nothing like that. You passed with flying colors. Congratulations." Say WHAT? I passed? I'm sane? "I-I-I did?" My voice was cracking even more than usual. I can't believe it! "Did you have any doubts? You seem perfectly normal to me." I can feel the tears well up in my eyes. I'm normal. I'm not a psycho! And if I'm normal, then... "And normal people don't need to be here. You're scheduled to be released tomorrow." I can't hold it them back any longer. I felt the hot tears flow down my face. This is unbelievable! Me? Free? Holy shit! This is actually happening! "C-could you repeat that please?" I said, still in shock. He let out a hearty laugh. "Of course. You are to be released tomorrow anytime you're ready." Almost instantly his face got serious. "However, there are some issues we need to discuss." Damn. There's always a catch. Fine. I'll just see what these 'issues' of his are. "Okay, doc. Let's discuss."

"Well...although you're completely stable, the doctors from the courts found some slight... issues." He paused. "What kind of issues?" I asked. "Well, as you've mentioned before, you have no memory of anything before your time here..." I cut him off. "Only the most recent events. I remember my childhood. Some of my teen years...just about everything up until I was fifteen or sixteen..." I trailed off. "Yes, that is mentioned, I was just trying to sum up. I apologize." Good, at least he has the right story. Now I'll just pry a little deeper. "Don't be too worried about your memory. What happened must have been very painful for you, so you suppressed the memory through sheer force of will. Therefore, you've physically created a kind of amnesia. It is called selective amnesia. And apparently whatever happened was so painful for you that if you try to remember it, you become violently ill. But don't be distressed. Someday you may find yourself recalling the memory. Memory is a funny thing. One day you might think the memory too painful to be real, then the next day you can accept it and move on." Save the sap speech doc, just get to the point. I don't have all night. "Is that it? Anything else?" He looked shocked that I didn't get all weepy at his speech. Sorry doc, no one gets to see me cry more than once in a single day.

"Well, they also found another small detail, nothing serious. You also seem to have an odd system of coping with your anger. You just seem to get this evil look in your eye, in their own words, quote, 'like he could kill somebody, then cools off and returns to normal,' unquote." He looked up at me. "Well?" Anger coping difficulties? What the hell? I spoke up, "I never really noticed I did that. Habit or something." He seemed satisfied with that. "Well, okay then. Get some sleep, and we will get you out of here tomorrow." He smiled at me and rose from his seat. "Good night." He strolled over to the door. "Doc?" He turned around. "Yes?" I smiled. "Thanks. I don't know what my life was like before I came here, but it must be a hell of a lot better now. So, thanks." He seemed pleased. "You're quite welcome. It's what I do." He turned and headed out the door. I got up and sat back down in my spot on the floor. I barely took notice of the pair of Machoke taking my straitjacket and the chairs, leaving me shirtless in the dark. I wonder how long that had taken. Two hours? Probably not. Maybe when I get out I might regain my concept of time. More importantly, I'll regain my life. I have no life beyond this place. But now that's all going to change. And with the icing I put on the cake as the doc was leaving, I can get out maybe even as soon as noon. But now I need sleep. I got up and plopped down on the bed. And I slept more soundly than I have in I don't know how long.

Cerulean City Police Department

11:45pm

Misty

It's a slow night. One of those nights where there's absolutely nothing to do but paperwork, and you don't want to do that for fear you might get so bored that you'd fall asleep. Most nights are like this. Everything's too perfect, too peaceful these days. And when there's nothing wrong, no one needs a detective. I let out a sigh. There's no way I'd be sitting here filling out car insurance renewal forms in the old days. As soon as I solved a case, ten more would be waiting for me. Now I'd be lucky to get three calls a week. Yeah, business has dropped ever since that day three years ago...no, can't go there again. Just drop the subject. Think about this stupid insurance form asking me for the same information over and over again. Nah, that'll put me to sleep faster than the history channel. I sighed again. I really need something to do. It's almost as slow as when I first started out, full of passion and vigor, but no lowlifes to take it out on. But even then it wasn't as slow as it is now. "Geez, what am I still doing here? Business is slower than a Slowpoke on tranquilizers, and I'm reduced to thinking about my glory days. Oh my God, I'm starting to sound like my mother. I need to go home. I'm the only one still here anyway." I pushed my chair back, stood up, and cracked my back. "Ahh, that's better." I grabbed my jacket and purse and headed for the door.

After punching out and locking up I headed for my car. I always loved that car. A classic Mercedes, like all those detectives on TV used to have. Even being six years old, it runs like a dream. Yeah, I got it when I hit 15. Well I didn't get it, he had gotten it for me to replace the bi...no, can't think about that. Twice in one night. At this rate I'll end up like that girl from Maiden's Peak, sitting out waiting for some crackhead guy to come back for the rest of my life. I have a life now, and a damn good one, with or without him. I moved on, this is just some weird, boredom-induced, late night insanity. Get over it. "There, well put." I said to myself. "Gee, I was just thinking the same thing."

I felt a strong hand grab me around my throat and shove a pocketknife to my neck. "It's not a good idea to stay out so late." He said in a raspy voice. "There are bad people out there, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt." Who the hell does this guy think he is? Some killer from a bad slasher movie? "I'd better teach you a lesson in...OOOFF!" It's amazing what an elbow to your stomach can do to your raspy, whispery, 'serial killer' voice. I then proceeded to kick him under his chin, sending him flying 3 feet across the parking lot. "Damn, I'm out of practice. I used to be able to kick 'em at least five." I pulled my .36 Magnum from its holster against my thigh. "I dunno, I think you should work on your delivery." I said pointing the gun at him, "The speech could use some work too." I pulled him up and cuffed him. "But don't worry, you'll have a good month in the slammer to work on it. Assaulting an officer should get you at least that much, if you get a tough judge." He looked at me desperately, his left eye twitching. "P-please lady..." I corrected him, "Officer, please. Detective if you want something." He gulped. "O-okay, Detective lady, I-I can't get thrown in jail. I got a wife and kids and..." He trailed off, trying to see if I was buying it. Hmm, what to do? I could just toss him to some judge for a quick trial, then throw him in jail, but I'm too tired to drive down there right now. And besides, where's the fun in that? I smiled maliciously. "Okay then, I've got and idea. I'll cuff you to this lamppost..." I proceeded to do so, then continued, "And if you can get out by the time someone shows up and arrests you tomorrow morning, you can go free." I turned around and headed for my car, leaving him to try and unfasten his hand from the lamppost. "Oh!" I said, remembering what I was going to do. I picked up the pocketknife and threw it in a nearby dumpster. "Don't play with sharp objects. A little boy like you could hurt yourself." I holstered my gun and got in my car. "Well," I said as I turned the ignition, "I guess tonight did have a little excitement."

Slate Manor

3:03am

Brock

Cold pizza and half a beer. It'll do. I threw the pizza in the microwave and started it up. Yeah, 30 seconds should do the trick. I plopped down on the counter and took a swig of the beer. Wonder what time it is. I glanced up at the clock. "Three o' five? How the hell did it get so late?" I had a feeling something had happened. Let's see, what did I do tonight? "Uh, I was at the office, went to the bar with the guys...urrg, can't think of anything after that." Damn, can't remember for the life of me...aw, whatever. I grabbed the pizza and headed back to my room.

I pushed the door open with my foot and staggered in. "Arrrg, maybe the beer was bad idea. Uhhh, I feel like shi...huh?" There's someone in my bed! What the HELL does he...hey it's a she! Hmmm...seems familiar...I've seen her somewhere...from the bar? Is she a hooker? Must be. "Hope I didn't spend too much on her." I pulled the sheets back. "Well, at least I know I didn't spend anything. What a dog. Woof." I tore the last bit of pizza from the crust and collapsed on the bed. In a bad position, a rolled over, putting the hooker right in my line of view. "I must've been totally wasted. Again." Again. Yeah, many a night have I been in almost this same exact situation. Although last time the whore was less of a strain on the eyes. And I was so drunk I couldn't see straight, if I remember right. But it doesn't make a damn bit of difference, I have chauffeurs to drive me home, butlers to help me stagger in the door, and maids to get me out of my clothes, reeking of alcohol and sometimes even stained with fresh blood. Of course I'm not always drunk and pissed off. I'm actually a respectable businessman when I'm not juiced up. And usually it's either one or the other. No real love, no hobbies, no vacations. Just escape to some drunken fantasy world, or the fast-paced business world. "I'm running." My words shocked me. I sum up my lifestyle, and I think that? "But from what?" Well, what do you know? There is a part of me that's still sane. "I...I...I'm running from...myself...my...identity." This isn't me! I'm not some dirty, alcoholic aristocrat! I was...I am...sick as a dog, and dog tired. "Two canine proverbs in the same thought...damn I'm good." I slowly let my eyelids droop, bringing a throbbing sensation to my temples. "I'm gonna have one hell of a hangover."

The eyes gleamed red. I couldn't break eye contact with him. "What are you doing? Why do you want to do this?" He turned those eyes on me again. I felt a wave of goosebumps wash over my skin. "Why? Why not? And why do you even care? Mr. Brock Slate, head of your own self-founded multi-national chain of breeding centers. You practically have a monopoly. You're rich, powerful, and you're even on the cover of People. You have everything you could possibly want. This matter doesn't concern you." That voice... it chills you to the bone...no, I can't give up now! I have to stop this once and for all! "Who do you think you are!? And why would this not concern me!? Don't you even feel some remorse for what you've done?" His left eyebrow rose. "No, of course not. I don't know the meaning of the word." Oh my God. How could I have let it come to this? He had become so...so cold...but I can't let my emotions get in the way of my duty. That...that...thing has to be stopped. And I am going to stop it. Or die trying. "I can't believe you said that. What happened to you? I know you don't want to do this. Please stop!" He narrowed his eyes. "Sorry, I can't do that. Now get out of here before I kill you." At least I tried. Sorry Misty. "Okay then. I don't know why you're doing this, and frankly, I don't care anymore." I took my pistol from its holster and leveled it at the figure. "You have to be stopped. And if I don't stop you, nobody will." He started to reach for a weapon, but my trigger finger was faster. "DIE!"

"AHHHHHHH!" I bolted upright. Beads of cold sweat ran down my forehead. No...oh God, not again...I can't handle this again. "Not the dream again. It's haunted me, for so long it has haunted me...but never in such graphic detail...it was more real than it ever was...I almost saw the face that time." I closed my eyes. Those horrible red eyes flashed on the back of my lids. I can't get them out of my mind...those eyes were the most evil things I have ever seen. I thought I had rid myself of those eyes...but now it looks like they'll haunt my dreams once again. "Hmph. It looks like I can't run anymore. But I can't remember...who is it...and what was I doing there?" I can't even remember what that thing was, or why I was trying to stop it...but maybe it's for the best. I've finally stopped running...but I've lost sight of what I was running from. "Hmmm. I finally succeeded in drowning my sorrows...but I wonder if it was the beer or my own determination?" My stomach lurched. "BLLUUUHHH!" I sighed as the contents of my stomach dripped off my lips. "Or maybe a little of both." I laughed out loud. I haven't laughed in years. "Well, today's a new day. And I'm gonna check into this. Maybe find somethin' out." I wiped my mouth off with my hand. Then a thought struck me. Where's the hooker? I glanced back at the bed and saw a note on the stained sheets. I probably didn't want to think of what they were stained with. I picked up the note and read it aloud:

I let myself out. Don't worry about paying me, that one's on the house. If I got more customers like you, I'd quit this gig and settle down.

Hugs and kisses,

Lauren

Good, I don't have to worry about any extra bills this month. I tossed the note and prepared to get going. "Well, I'd better...Ugggghhhh..." I collapsed in a heap on the floor. My temples flared up and I felt a strong urge to crap and hurl all at once. "At least...I got...one thing right..." I mumbled. "This is one hell of a hangover."