CHAPTER XI:
Misty didn't want to close the door after herself. She felt it would have been safer in case someone tried to harm her. Then she could rush out more quickly. The lights were off. She flicked them on. It wasn't as bad as it could be, she thought. At least the power wasn't out like in some horror movie.
Around the corner and into the hall she went, looking carefully into each room (there were only two.) She came to the last possible door, which lead to the bedroom. The door was closed; if someone were in the house, this was the only place they could be. Her hand moved slowly and curled around the knob. Her breathing grew deeper and she filled her lungs. She opened the door.
It was dark inside, and her hand went to the light switch, as if it were just some other normal day when she got home and turned the lights on. The bed was in the corner, just as it should be, and next to it was a man. No, it was only the vacuum. She had left it out. Misty shook her head. There was no one there. She double checked the house and over again looked in every room. No one.
She sat down to a TV dinner, her thoughts drifting slowly but inevitably to Ash. Maybe she had left the door open that morning, or maybe it was the wind. Maybe Mr. Oak was just stopping by looking for her and left a present for her. Something that went tick tick boom. She remembered that was how he used to say it. But that was illogical. No one knew she was here and she used a different name- Amy. Ash, she thought again. She wondered where he was. Maybe in New York. That was where this had all started. She tried to imagine what it had been like if she had killed Ash from the roof top. If she had applied just a little more pressure on the trigger, she wouldn't be here, that's for sure.
What of Mr. Oak? Was he to continue on as a rich bastard, not a care in the world? Not according to Misty, but she was procrastinating, and it was just talk, worst of all to herself. What she needed was a partner. Someone who didn't rip men's eggrolls off, but someone who wasn't too nice either. Sophie was dead, or was it Selphie? She couldn't remember. Everything seemed to be slowing down, now. Everyone was getting quiet. Maybe a little too quiet...
Ash was in his apartment. He was lying on his back, in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Misty was once again on his mind. It was getting to the point of obsession, if not past it. Pikachu was the only pokemon he owned, if that was what you could call it. They were true friends, not master and pet. Ash sometimes wondered why no one else could think of pokemon that way. As friends, pokemon and humans could look after each other. It sounded corny now, in the grown up world, where there's such things as murder and rape. He had never thought once of the two items when Misty was around. Back in the good old days, where everything was free and easy. Where had everything gone? He wondered.
It was then that the phone rang. He was standing in front of the couch, about to sit down. It rang again and he walked over to it. (I'm too tired) he thought. (They can call back.)
He returned to the couch as the phone finished its third ringing. Pikachu then stirred. He was old, then. Not the type to get up just because the phone rang. Ash could see his joints suffering as he crawled, almost, to his buddy's feet and looked up at him. "Pika." "I'm too tired." "Piiiiikaaa." "..."
What did he want? It couldn't be that important.
"Pika PI!" A seventh ring. "Pi!" Pikachu's cheeks glowed faintly, and that was enough for Ash. He reached and eventually pulled the phone off the hook. It was a black phone, and cold. He gripped it better and put it to his ear.
"Hello?" Nothing. Ash repeated his greeting. Nothing, again.
He listened carefully, but there was no sound. It was then that, for no reason at all, Ash said the name that was on his mind.
"Misty?" "... yes" Pikachu sat down and closed his eyes. His work was done.
"Is it you?" "... yes."
"Where are you?"
"That's not why I called." "Why, then?" She paused. Ash wanted to scream- he felt so helpless. "I just..." Ash thought he saw something in the corner of his eye and looked around. Nothing, again. There seemed to be a lot of that going around. "wanted to talk, I guess." "Like friends?" Ash would later think that that was the stupidest thing he had ever said. Though he couldn't remember the conversation they had had." "... I want to tell you who hired me." "I..." He formulated his words slowly. "don't really care about that as much as if they will try again." Pikachu must have been asleep by then. "They might. I don't know." He waited for her to continue, but she didn't, so she must have been waiting for him. The same thing had happened all the time when they were kids. "I'm not mad," he said. He could hear her sigh on the other end, which was very far away. Then there was a click, and the blank tone of dead line. He looked at the phone for an explanation. It gaped back at him, and again he saw movement in the polished black surface. A hand reached for him.
There was a struggle. Ash never even bothered to look at his face, but grabbed his arm and tried to flip his body over the couch. He was heavier than expected, though, and it half worked. The two violently tried to free themselves from each other's grasp, opting for a new chance to attack or defend. The man knocked the coffee table over and it landed just short of Pikachu. Ash tackled him and held on to his waist for dear life. The man stumbled but didn't fall. He brought his fists down on Ash's back multiple times, trying to knock the wind out of him. Ash wouldn't let go. The attacker tried to walk backwards and Ash's grip slipped. His hands fell to the floor and the other person kicked him in the face. Ash lost consciousness.
Misty didn't want to close the door after herself. She felt it would have been safer in case someone tried to harm her. Then she could rush out more quickly. The lights were off. She flicked them on. It wasn't as bad as it could be, she thought. At least the power wasn't out like in some horror movie.
Around the corner and into the hall she went, looking carefully into each room (there were only two.) She came to the last possible door, which lead to the bedroom. The door was closed; if someone were in the house, this was the only place they could be. Her hand moved slowly and curled around the knob. Her breathing grew deeper and she filled her lungs. She opened the door.
It was dark inside, and her hand went to the light switch, as if it were just some other normal day when she got home and turned the lights on. The bed was in the corner, just as it should be, and next to it was a man. No, it was only the vacuum. She had left it out. Misty shook her head. There was no one there. She double checked the house and over again looked in every room. No one.
She sat down to a TV dinner, her thoughts drifting slowly but inevitably to Ash. Maybe she had left the door open that morning, or maybe it was the wind. Maybe Mr. Oak was just stopping by looking for her and left a present for her. Something that went tick tick boom. She remembered that was how he used to say it. But that was illogical. No one knew she was here and she used a different name- Amy. Ash, she thought again. She wondered where he was. Maybe in New York. That was where this had all started. She tried to imagine what it had been like if she had killed Ash from the roof top. If she had applied just a little more pressure on the trigger, she wouldn't be here, that's for sure.
What of Mr. Oak? Was he to continue on as a rich bastard, not a care in the world? Not according to Misty, but she was procrastinating, and it was just talk, worst of all to herself. What she needed was a partner. Someone who didn't rip men's eggrolls off, but someone who wasn't too nice either. Sophie was dead, or was it Selphie? She couldn't remember. Everything seemed to be slowing down, now. Everyone was getting quiet. Maybe a little too quiet...
Ash was in his apartment. He was lying on his back, in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Misty was once again on his mind. It was getting to the point of obsession, if not past it. Pikachu was the only pokemon he owned, if that was what you could call it. They were true friends, not master and pet. Ash sometimes wondered why no one else could think of pokemon that way. As friends, pokemon and humans could look after each other. It sounded corny now, in the grown up world, where there's such things as murder and rape. He had never thought once of the two items when Misty was around. Back in the good old days, where everything was free and easy. Where had everything gone? He wondered.
It was then that the phone rang. He was standing in front of the couch, about to sit down. It rang again and he walked over to it. (I'm too tired) he thought. (They can call back.)
He returned to the couch as the phone finished its third ringing. Pikachu then stirred. He was old, then. Not the type to get up just because the phone rang. Ash could see his joints suffering as he crawled, almost, to his buddy's feet and looked up at him. "Pika." "I'm too tired." "Piiiiikaaa." "..."
What did he want? It couldn't be that important.
"Pika PI!" A seventh ring. "Pi!" Pikachu's cheeks glowed faintly, and that was enough for Ash. He reached and eventually pulled the phone off the hook. It was a black phone, and cold. He gripped it better and put it to his ear.
"Hello?" Nothing. Ash repeated his greeting. Nothing, again.
He listened carefully, but there was no sound. It was then that, for no reason at all, Ash said the name that was on his mind.
"Misty?" "... yes" Pikachu sat down and closed his eyes. His work was done.
"Is it you?" "... yes."
"Where are you?"
"That's not why I called." "Why, then?" She paused. Ash wanted to scream- he felt so helpless. "I just..." Ash thought he saw something in the corner of his eye and looked around. Nothing, again. There seemed to be a lot of that going around. "wanted to talk, I guess." "Like friends?" Ash would later think that that was the stupidest thing he had ever said. Though he couldn't remember the conversation they had had." "... I want to tell you who hired me." "I..." He formulated his words slowly. "don't really care about that as much as if they will try again." Pikachu must have been asleep by then. "They might. I don't know." He waited for her to continue, but she didn't, so she must have been waiting for him. The same thing had happened all the time when they were kids. "I'm not mad," he said. He could hear her sigh on the other end, which was very far away. Then there was a click, and the blank tone of dead line. He looked at the phone for an explanation. It gaped back at him, and again he saw movement in the polished black surface. A hand reached for him.
There was a struggle. Ash never even bothered to look at his face, but grabbed his arm and tried to flip his body over the couch. He was heavier than expected, though, and it half worked. The two violently tried to free themselves from each other's grasp, opting for a new chance to attack or defend. The man knocked the coffee table over and it landed just short of Pikachu. Ash tackled him and held on to his waist for dear life. The man stumbled but didn't fall. He brought his fists down on Ash's back multiple times, trying to knock the wind out of him. Ash wouldn't let go. The attacker tried to walk backwards and Ash's grip slipped. His hands fell to the floor and the other person kicked him in the face. Ash lost consciousness.