By Silver Vaporeon
Chapter 8- Tricks of the Trade
James slipped out of his clothes and into the shower. The water was on the warm side but James couldn't help but think he was washing in the heavy sliminess of swamp water. Victor had explained bathing on a boat was hard and usually they used salt water for washing with when the tank ran low. Perhaps it was salt water, he thought, as he dared not to taste it.
He finished his shower and put on his boxers and pants. He went into the bedroom that Victor set up for him and laid out on the bed. He sighed and stared at the ceiling.
"Flare," Jessie barked softly and hopped onto the bed, snuggling close to James' head. James turned his head to see a furry ball of fluff staring at him. She gave a small bark and crawled onto his stomach.
"Hey, Jess…long day, huh? I should have known you would have escaped," he gently scolded her and scratched her behind the ears. Normally Jessie wouldn't have liked that very much but it felt soothing, like a massage, so she let him continue to scratch her. "I wonder if my uncle would drop us off at the Seafoam Islands…come up with a plan…I bet that-" James stopped short and sat up so fast that Jessie nearly fell to the floor. "Weezing! I forgot about him! I sent him out and-!" James was in a panic. He had often forgotten to recall his beloved pokèmon but it had always followed him no matter where or how far he went. It had been over four hours and there had been no sign of him at all. James lay back down and cried. Jessie rubbed against his warm back, purring, trying to cheer him up. It was bad enough that she had made him upset, but having him experience an overload of depression was even worse.
James cried out to Victor(who was driving the boat; hoping to cover more distance) if he had spotted a Weezing floating around. Victor called back that he hadn't seen even a seaPidgy since they had left. Emotionally and physically drained for the day, he headed back inside and went to sleep. Maybe Weezing was lost for once. But he'd come back eventually. It was hard to convince himself.
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Weezing wasn't there the next morning and James was really beginning to worry. At the table, Victor told him not to worry and that it was probably lost but wild pokèmon would take him in and being a loyal friend, it would eventually find them. He slipped a plate of breakfast in front of James. Jessie barked at him, wanting a bit of his breakfast. He slipped her a piece of bacon and took a cautious sip at his coffee.
"You think you can drop us off at the Seafoam Islands, Uncle? I know we talked about it before but is it really ok?" James asked. Victor gave him a puzzled look.
"Of course! I live there, ya know. You can rest up at my place and I'll give your folks back at Vermillion a call," Victor patted James on the back. "Well, finish up your breakfast, m'boy and give those dishes a good cleaning, you hear?" He got up and left for the control room to set course for the Seafoam Islands.
"Flare…eon, flare? Eon?" Jessie asked. James understood her query without knowing most of her words, like reading a comic book in another language. He grinned a bit weakly and explained that he had fabricated a story about how he had been on a boat trip around the world, doing pokèmon training on the side, but then he was caught in a storm and reached Vermillion after weeks at sea. He then had supposedly took on a job at Miyako's Café as a waiter and cook and lived with the family for several years in Vermillion, not wanting to face his parents. Then Team Rocket came after him, hearing about his worth and thus he ran off and found an escape, which led to the present time.
"Flareon?" she cocked her head to the side.
"Yeah…I made it up all as I went along. It ended up about having to go to the Islands for some family treasure so I can sell it and get home or something," James chuckled and took a bite out of his toast.
The sky was clear and the sea was calm when Jessie went out on deck. Ryan was sitting near the bow meditating. She approached him and naturally waited for him to notice her, as it was custom in Team Rocket to respect people of upper ranks who weren't bitter rivials.
You know, you don't have to stick to Team Rocket customs any more, Jessie. I am fine with you treating me like any old person. He said when he noticed her.
Habit I guess. Only time I am respectful anyways, Jessie shrugged. What are you doing?
Ryan looked to the horizon. Feeling for waves. Seems like a nice day.
Jessie agreed. They spent the next few hours talking to each other; about their past lives as humans and learned more about each other. The subject eventually turned to why Jessie was out on the ocean with her human partner.
I am convinced there is a cure. Don't you agree? Would you join us? Jessie asked. Ryan closed his ancient eyes and looked at her.
You are young and wish to return to your true self. As for me, I am old; I've learned to accept what has been done is done. But…I do wish at times to feel my human hands, to wiggle my fingers again and grip a pencil. I long for the days where I used to surf as a pro all on my own. I am satisfied with my form though. The Rockets have stopped searching for me for decades so perhaps if there was a cure, I'd go for it.
So you do agree that there is a cure?
I am not sure about what to say about it. One other pokèmorph I've known had died in experimentation. The scientists were trying to find the answer to how to force a pokèmorph to change back to his or her original form. Didn't work.
I thought there were only four. You, me, Natasha and Boris Jessie said, puzzled. She then remembered the two poor pokèmorphs still stuck at Rocket Labs. She never even had a chance to say goodbye to them.
True, but only in the sense that the four pokèmorphs you are referring to are only the successful ones that Team Rocket came up with. The organization has many alliances with scientists around the globe and there is one group whom they shared the information and experimentation with. They've successfully made two pokèmorphs. The first one was originally a poison type but he died under strain when they tried to force him to resume his original shape so he's a ghost-type now. I never got to know the second one.
Jessie remembered her own experience in the glass capsules and remembered the pain during the last few moments before she was rescued. Could she have died yesterday? Yesterday seemed so long ago, just like the last three weeks.
It is so different being a pokèmon. You aren't treated as fair and only used as a tool…one is abused without knowing it. I can't believe it. Jessie felt guilty about her own pokèmon partners suddenly and wondered if they would truly be so loyal if they knew their true pasts. I have a Wobbuffet and it would not leave me alone, often popping out of its pokèball. Why? Doesn't he remember a thing about his previous owner?
Traded? Ryan asked skeptically.
An accident! Lickitung's pokèball dropped into the machine slot by mistake. I thought he'd come back like when we occasionally get separated but he didn't come back. Tell me! Jessie snarled. In their conversations, Ryan had told her he had worked on the development of pokèmon items. Silph. Co was really co-owned by Team Rocket. They owned quite a number of the pokèmon centers, and 'game centers'.
Do you really think those machines they use are really just to swap pokèmon fairly? You've already told me about your experiences with that kid; Ash. You were captured in a pokèball for the first time and you had your memory half-erased. With a regular pokèmon, their whole past goes out the window; they remember nothing; or at least anything important enough to make them want to rebel and it enhances the bitter memories of their own freedoms.
With a trading machine, it goes further. All memories of a previous owner are replaced and the pokèmon is made to believe that it has been with its new owner for its entire life. Your Wobbuffet remembers all attacks and techniques and perhaps a few pokè-pals but its owner's image is erased and he sees you as the owner he's had for eternity. Your Lickitung sees his new owner and knows nothing about you. To him, his new owner was his since his birth.
Jessie bit her lower lip in disgust. It didn't matter if they were friends; a trainer would use his or her pokèmon for their own benefits, as tools. Pokèmon were no different from trained circus animals, wagging their tails and following in their masters' footsteps. People take them from their homes and split up families. The trainers get the credit for the battle or the deed. The trainers get the money as their prize. Their 'partners' put their lives on the lines for meaningless battles in and out of the gym and for settling squabbles. And for what? A pat on the head? A little treat? They weren't pokèmon partners. They were pokèmon slaves.
And what was she? Was she a slave? No, even she felt superior to 'normal' pokèmon; this could not be helped but she was angry just the same for she was treated like one.
Thank you, Ryan-sempai. I don't need to know anymore.
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And that is the last of the super-update! Chapter Nine is where I need to start editing again (the last few chapters are half-edited. Whoo hoo.) so have fun and throw tomatoes at what I already have. Reviews always good. Yesness. You know, these last chapters have been sitting on my computer for over five months? …Yeah. Busy and lazy person, I am. _-_Until the next update!
-SV
10-14-02