*~*The Felicities and Fallacies of Pokémon Training*~*
Chapter Second: Great Expectations
Written by The Duke of Briarcliffe
*~*
Author's Notes: Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed. You know how I feel about that. Well, I guess that that is about all for now. I hope that you enjoy the chapter. —The Duke of Briarcliffe
*~*
"I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is to try and please everyone." —Bill Cosby
*~*
The key to success, to some people, can be summarized into just one word: money. And the Beechcombe family had a lot of it. Therefore, it is only reasonable that Duncan, Helen and Crandall's only child, should have the freedom to partake in spending some of it. And he did—any chance he could, by choice or not.
The young Mr. Beechcombe, upon capturing the dozing Chikorita, rushed back to the Pokémon Center. He just had to thank that klutz of a Nurse Joy for whatever assistance she provided for him. Feeling so engulfed in fortune, he threw open the door and scurried over to the desk. Yet surprisingly, nobody was there.
There were a few random trainers lounging on the sofas, looking up at an economy-size TV that was mounted to the wall. The room itself was large and clean. The white linoleum was ornamented with the Oddish family evolutions; it glistened too. The walls were painted a serene blue, dappled with white, as was the soft green that they were also painted, on adjoining walls. Portraits of famous trainers who had once passed through hung on the wall; black marker looped around the bottom—their signatures.
Duncan looked around frantically, not seeing a trace of the trademark, bright pink hair of Nurse Joy. He scratched his head in bewilderment. Even the plump Blissey also was nowhere to be found.
He sighed as he leaned up against the counter, a casual pose, and pulled the pokéball from his pocket. A lazy smile spread across his lips as he admired once again his prowess and intelligence.
Feeling so proud of himself, he fashioned that he should make the pokéball into some sort of necklace—like the one Drake had in the Pummelo Stadium—and where it at all times. It couldn't be that expensive. Hell, he could probably make it himself.
The clickety-clack of low-heeled shoes sounded as a young woman walked to behind the large counter and placed a heavy-looking tray of pokéballs onto it. Then, she separated them by nametag and called over to the trainers by way of a microphone.
"Would Allison, George, and Bert please collect their pokémon? They have now been healed." Then, wiping her eyes, she began to leave. But Duncan's voice stopped her.
"Hello. Would you happen to know where Nurse Joy is, by chance?" he asked in an easygoing manner, a bit businesslike if you ask me—but you didn't.
The young woman whirled around to face him. "Everybody knows that Nurse Joy goes out for lunch around this time. She'll be back in two hours." She raised a brow. "Who are you?"
"Beechcombe. Duncan Beechcombe," he suavely replied.
She just rolled her eyes at him. "That helped a lot. Are you a trainer or something?"
He was shocked. "You mean that you don't know who I am?" His eyebrows were knit together in disbelief.
"I haven't a clue," she said nonchalantly, as if it didn't matter. She placed a hand on her hip and asked him, "what—am I supposed to?"
He shook his head. "No, no. It's just odd that you don't. Have you ever heard of the Beechcombe Company? You know, the makers of the designer pokéballs—"
She narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, it does ring a bell. Oh, I know: they're ones who make useless products that empties the trainer's pockets and they're driving other companies out of business. Pretty soon, it'll be a monopoly."
"I know," he boasted. "Isn't that just wonderful?" Then he realized her former statement. "Hey!"
She just huffed and walked away, her feet echoing as she advanced down a long corridor that led to a large metal door. She flung open the door and stormed inside.
He raised his eyebrow as he watched her retreating figure. What's her problem? Subsequently, he shrugged his shoulders and he walked out the door. Nurse Joy wasn't worth waiting for after all.
*~*
Polished hardwood floors were laid throughout the spacious apartment. The walls were a mellow beige in the kitchen. There was a smooth counter that ran around ¾ of the kitchen—a built-in dishwasher, washer, and dryer hidden within the reccesses of the cabinets. A silver range was stuck in between two parts of the counter.
In the living room, the walls were a gleaming white. One large, and long, window practically covered an entire wall, allowing an incredible view of Lavender City and of the ocean—the loft being located in Southern Celadon. Sunlight streamed through, illuminating the entire room.
Going up a short flight of stairs, Madison advanced towards the bedrooms. There were two in the whole apartment and he wanted to claim one as soon as possible,without Duncan being there.
Here's the deal. Soon after Duncan went out of the house, a messenger of some sort came up to the hotel room. Madison answered the door and the man presented to him two keys, a telegram, and directions on how to get to the building where it was located.
He'd rushed out of the hotel, now having something to do, and waited at a corner for a bus to come. He didn't feel like wasting ten dollars by catching a taxi. He already had limited funds, Ms. Waterflower could only afford to give him so much, and it would be superfluous to go by taxi than to go by the bus.
A half-hour later, he'd arrived on Bijou Boulevard and walked for at least twenty minutes before approaching a large apartment building that reflected the image of the sun. Those Beechcombes only accepted the very best.
In the lobby, he'd tramped on a carpeted floor up to the elevator. People with thick moustaches and designer suits scrunched up their noses as they scrutinized the message on his t-shirt. He smiled in satisfaction.
The loft was on the tenth floor: the very top. And that's basically it.
He choose the largest room that held the best view of the surrounding area. It was painted a masculine sort of green—his favorite color. It also had the largest closet, not that he needed it. He just wanted to limit his friend.
I should've know that they would have done this. They're always doing everything for him. They need to just let him live his life the way he wants to... He probably does like it this way. If he only knew how it is...
Ash and Misty had split twelve years ago, when Madison was five and his baby sister, Ashley, was just an infant. The marriage had been rocky after Madison was born. Ash was always off training, winning badges or leagues while Misty stayed home and took care of the children.
He was the apple of Madison's eye. To him, Ash was practically a god—so high in his graces that he belived that he could do no wrong. But he did, and it hurt him and his mother tremendously.
Once, when he and Misty had broken up—they'd broken up so many times before and after they married—Ash did something incredibly erroneous. Feeling sad and needing someone to talk to, he'd called his long-time friend, Melody from Shamouti Island, over to his temporary lodging because Misty had kicked him out. And, to make things short and concise, one thing led to another and one day and nine months later Madison's half-brother, Ashton Jr., was born. Misty was kept in the dark for five years. Then came the day when Melody brought her child along to tell the truth, she'd felt so horrible about it all. A melée practically ensued. They divorced and Misty kept the children. Madison didn't see his father again until he was thirteen, just received the occasional letter on his birthday and on Christmas.
The memory plagued his mind. It filled his thoughts endlessly. He wished that he hadn't been born so that none of this would have happened; so that they still would be together, happily married. Naturally he didn't let it show. Being reputed as the cool, down-to-earth type meant that he had to maintain that outward composure. The only person who knew of this information was Duncan and his family.
The Beechcombes offered assistance to Misty. Every year for five years they sent her one thousand dollars to help out with the children. Madison and Ashley were growing up so fast. Clothing was a neccessity in their household. And they needed toys too. But one day, Misty became fed up with their act of kindness and of charity. Pity was something she disliked and she despised herself for having let herself accept it. Consequently, she insisted that she make ends meet herself.
There was a subtle change in feeling amongst the Beechcombes and the Ketchum-Waterflower family. The Beechcombes alleged that Misty didn't know good help when she saw it; and Misty thought of them as snooty people who thought that money solves everything. They seldom spoke except on the major holidays and on birthdays.
Looking to the ocean, Madison grinned as he thought of the snug cottage that they lived in next to Bill's house on Cerulean Lake. He loved the way that Magikarp and Goldeen swam near the edge of the water, eating algae and the random moth or dragonfly. He liked the was that the Stantler drank their fill every morning. And he missed seeing Misty swim and play with her pokémon, in spite of her age, with Ashley not far behind.
He knew that Ash lived in a cabin near Silver Mountain. Sometimes, during the summer and spring recess he and his sister would go and stay with him for the allowed weeks. They weren't that close, Ash was always off training in the forest, but they were civil. Madison was glad that he looked like his mother because if he had Ash's face, he would be the embodiment of him, of that human weakness, that caused the marriage to fail. Madison would try to make conversation with his father, but his answers were brief. His eyes were hollow, void of all feeling that they once contained.
Pikachu and his other pokémon still resided with him. They were out of their pokéballs all of the time. Madison liked them all, especially his Croconaw. The Joy of Water Pokémon had been inherited from his mother.
Ashley was more like Ash than Madison was, in spite of the fact that she had barely known him before. She had the same unruly black hair, which was usually kept in a ponytail, and the same hyper attitude when anything that involved pokémon was of concern. But she was the tiniest person that Madison knew. She clocked in at around 4'11". He loved his sister very much.
As for Ash Jr., he came at times to the cabin. Madison didn't like him. He was the spitting image of Ash down to the shiny ebony eyes. He was taller than Ash by a few inches and about the same height as Madison. They were both easygoing too. Yet, Madison hated him. Being the product of lust and causing contempt in the family, how could he have felt any other way? Didn't he hold the right to feel that way?
With all of this reminiscing, Madison suddenly felt homesick. His mother and sister were on his mind. He sped to the nearest phone booth. The phone hadn't been activated yet.
*~*
The message that all of his luggage had been relocated to the Loft had been administered to Duncan once he made it to the reception desk in the hectic lobby. As a result, he hopped into the nearest yellow taxi and went off. His parents were the coolest.
He immediately took a liking to the huge apartment and was partially disappointed when he found that Madison had claimed the master bedroom for his own; yet, despite all of this, he was much too jovial to let that ruin his day. He just had to open his pokéball. Furnishing the apartment, or even eating, could wait until later.
"Hey Waterflower, come over here," he beckoned, waving his hand in the air.
Madison came from the white refrigerator, a Pepsi in his hand. He took a long swig before crushing the can and tossing it into a vacant wastebasket in the corner of the room. "What, dude?"
"Look what I have," he exclaimed as he pulled out the gold-and-silver pokéball from his pocket. He looked like a drooling baby over there with that stupid grin on his face.
Madison looked on blankly. "Uh...nice pokéball. Did your mother design that one or something?"
"Yeah," he admitted with a thoughtful nod before getting back to what he intended to say. "But that's not the point. It's what is in it that matters."
"An instruction guide? I mean, it can't be that hard. All you have to do is enlarge it and throw it at the weakened pokémon. I've done it before. You should have asked me. No wait! You went to Pokémon Tech for—"
"For crying out loud, Madison. That's not what I'm talking about."
He complacently shrugged his shoulders. "Well get to the point. I don't feel like solving riddles and I'm sick of sitting on this damn floor. My ass must be in a coma."
Duncan groaned. "I have a pokémon."
"That's great." His tone was a bit sarcastic much to Duncan's dismay. Genuinely feeling a tad hurt, he placed his friend's feelings before his own thoughts. "Can I see it?"
He happily enlarged the ball and said, "I choose you."
The Chikorita, now fully awake, shuddered. It was cool in there. She looked around her surroundings and pawed at the slippery floor. She spun around to look up at the looming figures above her. Disgust seeped into her veins like the venom from the most dangerous of serpents, filling every nook and cranny in her little body.
"Isn't she cute?"
Madison examined the little pokémon. "'Isn't she cute?' Duncan, the question is, 'isn't she angry?' Don't you see her baring her teeth at you?"
He scrunched up his nose. "I don't why she's angry. All that I did was capture her. No big deal."
His friend slapped him upside his head, messing up his spiky 'do. "No big deal. No big deal? Are you nuts?"
"Waterflower," he said, emphasizing it. "Of course not. Why'd you do that? It's all messed up now."
"How did you capture her?"
"I lured her with some food that I added some sleeping aids to, and then captured her whilst she was asleep."
"Now that's low."
The whole time, Chikorita had listened intently. She grew more infuriated at every exchange. She was brimming over in the rage, steam had already condensed from this pot of boiling water.
"At least I captured her. It's all that matters now." Then, he stooped down, a friendly smile displayed on his face. He pinched her cheek. "You don't mind if I call you Nasturtium, do you?"
She trembled with ferocity, her purple eyes glinting in anger. That was it. Her head spasmodically began to twitch. "Chico, chica? Rita chico! [Do I mind? Do I mind! I'm going to kill you!]" she shouted. Plunging headfirst into Duncan's sturdy abdomen, she sent him skidding across the ground, which caused him to hit his head up against the wall.
"Chi! [Ah!]"—a battle cry. She extended two bright green vines with round buds at the end from her sparkling bead necklace and fired them at Duncan. After coiling around his feet, with a mighty tug she dragged him into yet another wall.
"Nasturtium, stop it this instant!"
"Ta? Chi-chi! [Never!]" The vines bound his arms and his waist together and she squeezed as hard as she could—until he began to turn a delicate shade of lilac.
Then, not wanting to actually kill him—he wasn't worth it—she let him go. He fell into a tangled heap. Bright red lacerations shone from his bright tan skin, his breaths hard and labored.
"Duncan, are you all right?" Madison asked as he stooped down to help him up to his feet.
Duncan deprecatingly smiled. "AT least we know that she isn't weak."
"Honeycombe, you make a joke after she just whooped your ass? You need help."
Her rapid boil now coming down to a calm simmer, Nasturtium sauntered up to her trainer and stared at him insolently. She noticed that their eyes were exactly the same shade, but that didn't matter right then. She didn't want to be associated with him in any way. So, she cleared her throat and spat right onto his Hushpuppies. "Chikorita chi. [I'll never forgive you.]," she growled. She turned away and walked over to her fallen pokéball. By depressing the rigid button, the pokéball's energy consumed her and she went far away from reality.
He shrugged indifferently and said, " You just wait until tomorrow morning. She'll get iver it. You'll see."
Madison stared at his friend in wonderment. How clueless can a person be! Will he ever learn? He walked away to his bedroom and took out his own three pokéballs. He marvelled over what they contained. Now that was hard work, something Duncan would soon grow accustomed to. And Nasturtium would be the very best of teachers...
*~*
Concluding Statements: There! I've finished yet another chapter. I hope that you enjoyed it. Please remember to review. I want your input. Oh and if you want an original trainer of your own creation to appear in this fanfiction, feel free to include the information in your review. Sincerely—The Duke of Briarcliffe.