Pokémon: The Vision of His Future Chapter 6 Capture, a pokémon fanfic

Now

The morning sun saw another flash of brilliance competing with it on Blackthorn Gym's grounds. No sooner did Misty appear from thin air than she ran for the heavy gates. Togetic, flapping his puny wings madly, struggled to keep up. Mimey kept pace with his own mistress as Delia chugged along behind.

At the last second before her hand closed on the ornate door handle, Misty veered off into a row of rosebushes. Black rosebushes, of course. Delia stopped to ask what was wrong, but the loud, painful sound of terribly forced retching answered her. Delia sighed and stepped into the bushes, patting her poor companion on the back endlessly. The Pokémon turned their backs to the shrubbery and moved a distance away, trying to give Misty some privacy. Mimey whistled to better ignore the sounds Misty was making. Neither Pokémon really wanted to join in with her, after all.

Misty tried to stand up and struggle on, but her legs were jelly. Inside she raged at her own body's betrayal of her, but she couldn't spare the breath to curse herself. She was too busy trying to puke her intestines up. Sensing her anger, Delia patiently cooed, "It's all right, dear, it's all right," over and over.

Suddenly a stiff breeze kicked up. For a couple of seconds, Misty felt better as the cool air swept over her. But the wind didn't pass by.

Instead it strengthened and grew with each passing second. The rosebushes whipped her fiercely now, sharp thorns slashing her bare legs; others catching in her hair and clothing every which way. She opened her mouth to protest and only succeeded in bringing up the last of her breakfast. Delia was yelling but Misty couldn't hear her over the howling wind.

Now Delia was clutching at her, trying to pull Misty along after her. Misty didn't have anything more to pass, but the shock of her sudden outbreak still had her trembling mightily. A pair of large black helicopters were settling onto the gym's grounds not too far away. The machines had no registry numbers; no markings for identification of any kind. They reminded her of government-issue vehicles she'd seen once.

So why did the hairs on her neck stand up with cold dread?

The copters' rotors were slowing. One vehicle's side doors flew open. Out jumped a few individuals of both sexes wearing black uniforms. Helmets hid their features from view completely. The newcomers completed their quasi-military arrival by forming a half-circle around the women, cutting off the Pokémon on the side.

But at least nobody had a gun in their hands.

Delia planted herself firmly between Misty and the onlookers. Misty found herself watching the reflection of Delia in the lead figure's faceplate. Confusion and bravado were fighting to rule Delia's face, she noted, and the only thing Delia could think of to say was, "Can I help you?"

Silently, the guards parted a little before her at an unheard signal.

Between them appeared someone who had been very handsome once. Somehow, Misty sensed, it had not been that long ago. Something in his eyes clued her in. Far too bright and clear for the thin, lined face they were part of. She barely glanced at the scarecrow's frame hardly concealed by an expensive white suit, so struck was she by his magnetic gaze. Short-cropped hair, now as white as his suit, held three spiky points running backwards at each temple.

Now she had it. But she was too busy panting to give a warning; both from her sickness and her shock. He looked like he'd aged a couple of decades since last month. His smile was meant to be genuine, Misty could see that in his eyes too. But his dry, tough skin pulled his face into a perfect death's head mask despite himself. His voice; soft, silky, and very smooth, remained the same at least.

"Yes," Sir Lawrence Talbot the 3rd answered slowly, "Mrs. Ketchum, I do believe you can indeed help me. Very, very much."

--Then--

Over the next two months, Spencer and Delia continued seeing each other. Only not as much. Giovanni noticed they didn't smooch as often, either; at least not in front of him and the professor. They didn't seem to be arguing. Yet Giovanni noticed there still was no engagement announcement either. He declined pointing this out to Oak, who was already asking Giovanni if he knew of any problems. Giovanni denied knowing anything about that, too.

He'd ended up spending more time with Spencer solo, naturally. And to his own hidden astonishment, liked him better with each meeting. Spencer was familiar with a well-groomed lifestyle like his own upbringing. Sure, Giovanni had to pretend to be picking it up from Spencer, but the other man was generous in his time and patient. He was never condescending when he was teaching.

Or was it, Giovanni wondered, because he was teaching a man? Spencer had odd ideas about some things for a person from the rich suburb of Goldenrod City. He wanted to get a job, probably as a researcher like Oak, for one thing. But on some issues, like how a married woman ought to be subordinate to her man, he was well in line with his contemporaries.

This was nicely reflected in Spencer's brief, occasional mentions of Delia during the small talk. Giovanni's comments were always supportive of them both yet carefully neutral. Spencer kept adding that she still needed to find a girlfriend for Giovanni, but nothing ever seemed to come of it.

The next big warning sign had come from the mouth of a babe, namely Daisy. "Why does Miss Delia cry alla time?" she'd asked her grandfather very seriously when her babysitter wasn't around.

The next day, Giovanni was convinced, Oak's daughter-in-law was sitting down for a serious talk with Delia in town someplace. He, unfortunately, had been asked by the professor himself to provide Spencer with a sounding board. Oak feared the age gap wouldn't let him reach Spencer, he said, you're his friend Vance, he said.

As he headed out to help give the Pokémon of the ranch their breakfast, Giovanni tried to analyze the emotions conflicting inside him. The very fact that there was a conflict was odd for him. He was actually stumbling a little as he walked. A passerby might've thought him drunk. Each time Delia had come up in conversation, Giovanni's self-control had frayed a little more. He doubted he could keep from yelling, "Hey, Spencer! I'm from Team Rocket, whattya think of that?" just to say something that didn't involve Delia.

Sternly, he grabbed hold of the tangle in his mind and stretched it out for a thorough dissection. Strange, Giovanni recalled musing more than once, Spencer has known Delia for so long yet understands her so little. The woman preferred a quiet life but would never let herself be regulated to the sidelines by another's decree. She was an equal of her man; nothing less.

Yes, if Delia truly gave a man her heart, she would stand, work, live beside him no matter where their entwined futures led.

Out of the blue, the vision of his future hit him. Himself, now head of Team Rocket. Delia, at his side. Even Madam Boss, nodding appreciatively of his choice in companions, wisely stepping down from her position in favor of the younger generation. He and Delia would be equals in everything; including the running of Viridian Gym above and Team Rocket below. Their combined efforts would raise the very definition of Power to grandiose heights that no one had ever dared dream of before.

And Spencer? Well, surely he'd find someone more in line with his thinking. Giovanni could see most of his own past companions at Spencer's side, easily. Shallow, empty-headed things whose greatest concern in life was their pedicures and tennis matches on Friday. He'd be quite happy with any of those pieces of fluff.

Much of Giovanni's emotional tangle quickly untangled itself at these thoughts. The wheels began turning in his mind once more. He felt more like himself than he had in weeks. Besides, it wasn't like he hadn't stolen a girl right from underneath her boyfriend's nose before.

His innermost feelings gave one last gasp of, But Spencer's your friend! You've never even had a friend before! Aloud, he whispered, "All's fair in love and war." Then he permitted himself an evil grin to finish his misgivings off.

With renewed spring in his step, Giovanni marched heartily off into the barn.

Spencer saw him coming and offered a happy, totally unsuspecting greeting. Giovanni returned it but in a more subdued fashion. Spencer's eyebrows went up as he stopped loading bags of feed into a wheelbarrow. "Hey, Vance, are you all right, buddy?" he added.

Giovanni reached for a bag to load himself, careful to make only fleeting eye contact. "It's nothing, pal. We've got a busy day ahead of us."

"Hey," Spencer objected firmly, "You can't fool me with that act, Vance. Now, I won't twist your arm…but if there's anything I can do…?"

Giovanni sighed, then composed his face in a perfect expression of determination edging out reluctance. "Actually, it's about you, Spencer. You and Delia."

The openness in Spencer's face fled instantly. Very cautiously, he asked, "Delia? What about us?" Spencer then tried to laugh off some of Giovanni's edge with, "Has someone been spreading little rumors about us?"

"Not just any someone," Giovanni assured Spencer with the one grain of truth he had, "Daisy. Children are very honest, Spencer. We're friends. Can't you be honest with me too?" To seal the deal, Giovanni gave him a quiet half-grin filled with trust.

It worked. Spencer's entire frame drooped as a great weight sloughed off his shoulders. "Okay, okay," he admitted with half-relief, half-anger, "We've…hit a rough spot." Spencer moved away a little, staring at the racks of waiting Pokémon feed without really seeing them. "I don't know what to do, Vance," he punched the harmless food, "I'm not sure what she…wants next…"

Inwardly, Giovanni gloated. He couldn't have planned a better opening. Outwardly, he remained gravely concerned. "I think I might know what she wants next. A ring on her finger. You've been together for quite awhile. It's only natural---if you're ready for such a big step."

Spencer whirled, locking his gaze to Giovanni's. His eyes were wider than a Stantler caught in a car's headlights.

From the depths of that black abyss he called a soul, Giovanni summoned up all the false sincerity he possessed. "Spencer, Spencer, my friend," he said knowingly, "This can only get worse if you keep letting it drag on. Tell you what." Giovanni smoothly went around the wheelbarrow to drape his arm across Spencer's shoulder reassuringly. "I know you. You see a future with her back home, in Greenfield, right? And she's not sure if she wants that."

Spencer refused to meet Giovanni's gaze right now, instead staring intently down at his own shoes. Giovanni began walking back toward the house, gently pulling Spencer along at his side. "Spencer," he counseled sagely, "make sure of where you both stand before you take that next big step. The professor will gladly give the two of you some time off. Bring Delia home with you for a few days. Show her the life you intend to build for her. Then just…go from there."

Spencer's head snapped up, new resolve shining in his eyes. "You're right. You're absolutely right." He pulled free of Giovanni's embrace, only to proffer a hand. Giovanni took up the handshake offer firmly. Suddenly Spencer pulled him closer, into a brotherly embrace. Giovanni returned it. Spencer continued, "Thank you. You're a true friend, Vance."

The men released each other. Spencer glanced around. "Uh, you think anybody saw that?"

"Nope," Giovanni was quick to reassure him, "And I won't tell if you won't."

"Agreed," Spencer continued, "I'll go talk to Prof. Oak right now. See you soon, Vance." He began almost skipping up the walk, only to pause and throw Giovanni a wink. "Don't break too many girls' hearts while we're gone, okay, big guy?"

"I'll try," Giovanni's beard hid the sharp edge to his grin, "Take care of yourself, Spencer. And take good care of her."

Spencer flashed a grin of his own before heading away.

Unseen by the other man, Giovanni's own smile remained frozen in place for a long moment after he'd disappeared. The corners did not droop, nor did the flash of teeth lose their heartiness. If anything, the grin grew wider.

But the smile did not light his eyes in a friendly way at all.

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