Murphy's Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.
Two days after our disastrous attempt to defeat Wattson, I was at the Poké Mart again, buying up as many supplies and food as my wallet could handle. I was leaving this city.
I know, I know what you're thinking: Whoa Riley, I thought you weren't gonna leave Mauville 'till you beat the Gym, you cop-out! Yeah, sure, that's what I thought too. But there was no way I was going to take on Wattson again with just Murphy, and if I had to stay in Mauville for one more day I was going to suffocate.
Murphy was perched in my shopping basket, watching the other shoppers go by with a lazy look in her eyes. The shopkeeper had shot me a curious look when I released her from her Pokéball in the shop, but I was so past the point of caring what other people thought of me that I was flying far into the horizon. It wasn't like Murphy could tear up the shop, anyways. No claws.
I deflated again as I was reminded of our current state. It'd been almost a month since I'd started training and I had absolutely nothing to show for it, aside from Murphy. No badge, no team. I had a clawless Meowth with exactly one attacking move and an ever-thinner wallet. I stared dejectedly at a display of magazines and newspapers, letting my eyes roam over the headlines…A Man in Pursuit of Power! Petalburg's New Gym Leader…Infinity Energy: the Future is Here at Devon…League in Turmoil after Discoveries of Stolen Research and Funds, Champion Stone Delivers Statement...A glossy magazine with a red cover caught my eye. PRODIGAL: the New Generation of Trainers is Stronger, Younger, and Smarter, it boasted. I groaned. None of those adjectives described me.
Murphy gave a muffled meow. Sometime when I hadn't noticed, she'd buried herself under a pile of trail rations and was peering up at me with a content expression. She sat up, the contents of my shopping basket sliding off her fur. Without breaking eye contact with me, she reached out and knocked a nearby row of Repels onto the floor.
I groaned. Murphy ducked back into the basket. A shop attendant came over, looking extremely annoyed, but saw my expression and didn't say anything. Maybe he felt sorry for me, or maybe he realized that I was about to snap and was afraid that I'd attack him with my fingernails. Either way he shook his head and began to clean up. I took a deep breath and kneeled down to help him. Screaming and getting kicked out of a shop wouldn't help anybody.
I left the shop feeling more than a little embarrassed.
There were a few people in Mauville I really didn't want to run into. Mostly it was just a couple of the other street kids. Kyle was a vindictive, scrawny kid who didn't pose too much of a threat by himself, but he was never without his constant companion and muscle, a huge, hulking boy named Ollie. Ollie was as slow-witted as he was huge, but that didn't really matter when he had Kyle to make up for his lack of brains and enough sheer strength to beat the living daylights out of anyone. But there were worse people to piss off. Maddie was a tiny girl who also happened to be the most feared resident of all the Mauville alleyways. She had a vacant stare that easily turned vicious at the slightest threat and she could lunge as quickly as a Seviper. She wasn't afraid of anything or anyone, and when she strolled through the dim and dusty alleys even Ollie got out of her way pretty quick.
That being said, I would have taken on Kyle, Ollie, and Maddie all at the same time rather than run into Wattson again.
"Oh? It's you!" said Wattson, his round face beaming with recognition. I had strolled past the Pokémon Center hoping to heal up Murphy one last time before I set out and run straight into the Gym Leader. I glanced around quickly, briefly wondering if bolting straight out the door was a good option. Probably not.
"Uh, hi again," I said, shoving Murphy's Pokéball at the nurse on duty. "I, uh, how's it going?"
"Just fine." Wattson folded his arms across his chest and grinned a toothy grin. "A couple strong challengers dropped by the Gym this morning. One of 'em was using Pokémon I'd never seen before! It's good to see trainers all over the world coming to Hoenn."
"Uh, s-sure," I said, wondering how long it would take the nurse to check on Murphy and wishing I could remove myself from the situation.
"Say, are you coming by the Gym again?" Wattson said, his expression turning a little more serious. "I was harsh on you, kid, but you shouldn't give up."
I hoped I wasn't blushing. My face felt like it was on fire. "No, I-I'm gonna come back later." Much later. When I wasn't sick of the sight of Mauville anymore. But that wouldn't have been a smart thing to say to a Gym Leader. Gym Leaders had a big part in running their cities and Wattson was supposed to be pretty proud of Mauville from what I'd heard. "Uh. Murphy is my only Pokémon now, so there's no point in a rematch anyways."
"Your Meowth?" he asked. I nodded dumbly. "Well, what happened to the Roselia you had? Thorn, was it?"
Wow. Wattson was old, but no one could say that he had a bad memory. I swallowed, my mouth dry. "I. Erm. I released him."
His smile was gone completely now. He stared at me with a contemplating expression. "What did you go and do that for?" he said eventually.
The nurse was taking forever; Murphy's Pokéball still hadn't been returned to me, or else I would have made a run for it. "I-I thought about what you said. About Pokémon that didn't want to battle. Like Thorn." I gripped the edge of the counter tightly and looked at the floor, hoping to calm myself down. It didn't really work. "I felt bad about keeping him here. I d-didn't want him to feel stuck, or to be something he didn't want to be. So I took him back to his home." my voice trailed off and I stared at my shoes, wondering what I would see in Wattson's expression when I looked up. Would he think I was weak? That I gave in too easily? I couldn't imagine it was something trainers did often.
Wattson was silent for a long while. I still didn't want to look at him. The sounds of the Pokémon Center around us seemed impossibly loud, magnified by our silence. I bit my lip.
Wattson made a little huffing sound. Then to my complete amazement, he started to laugh. His laugh was booming and belly-shaking, and much, much louder than it'd seemed in the wide, large room in the Gym. A few trainers stopped what they were doing to openly stare at us. I felt like crawling under a table, I wished the floor would open up and swallow me.
"Riley!" Wattson clapped me on the back, so hard that I glanced up at him in surprise. The grin was back on his face, and I realized that this was the first time he'd called me by name. "Good on you! Good on you, kid!"
"What?" I managed to choke out. The nurse called my name and placed Murphy's Pokéball next to me, but I was too shocked to notice. Wattson picked it up and shoved it into my hands.
"Come with me! I've got something to give you!"
With that, he dragged me by the arm out of the Pokémon Center, into the street, and back towards…
"Why are we going to the Gym?" I squawked. There was no way I could battle him again. Without Thorn, I had nothing that resisted electric, and as bold as Murphy was, her only damage-dealing move was Bite. Not the best Pokémon to solo a Gym with.
"You'll see!" Wattson was striding with the quick pace of a man with a purpose. I vaguely wondered if he'd decided that I was a complete joke, and was taking me to get my license revoked. What would they do with Murphy?
The Gym doors slid open with a swoosh as we entered the fancy room again. I groaned. The attendant looked at me and frowned. But Wattson didn't take us through the lightning maze like I'd gone through the last time. He led us through a door off the side of the main hall and into a small room.
"Here we are!" Wattson flicked on the light switch. I squinted in the sudden brightness. We were in a small storeroom. Boxes were stacked haphazardly from floor to ceiling. The shelves were crammed with an assortment of old clutter. I watched as Wattson waded into the middle of this mess and began opening boxes.
"This one? No, not here…maybe this one?" he muttered under his breath, tossing the contents of the boxes aside. I watched him stupidly, with absolutely no idea of what he was planning on doing.
"Aha!" Wattson pulled something out of the box and held it up triumphantly. It was a small metal disc. Its surface had been painted a rusty yellow.
"For your Murphy!" Wattson handed me the disc. I glanced at the lettering on the ridges: TM34, it read.
"Uh, what's this?" I said. Pump-up music?
"This," Wattson said, puffing his chest out, "is a TM, a Technical Machine! It's a device that contains the very essence of a Pokémon move. This one contains one of my favorites—Shock Wave."
"Shock Wave?" I repeated dumbly.
He nodded vigorously. "I used to give these out to really worthy challengers, before I started using Volt Switch. Shock Wave is an electric-type move. It always hits its target!"
"Great," I said, trying to figure out where he was going with all of this. Then it hit me. "Wait, are you giving this to me?"
"What else would I bring it out for?" Wattson replied. "Now, this is one of the old models of TMs, so you can only use it once. If you're having trouble using it, ask the attendant—or wait, I've got an instruction booklet here—" he began rifling through the boxes again.
"Wait! Wait!" my head was spinning. "Why are you doing this?" No such thing as a free lunch. Remember that, Riley.
Wattson paused and gave me another long stare. "That was a good thing you did back there, Riley," he said. "Like I said earlier, not many trainers will appreciate it. Most will think releasing a Pokémon that doesn't want to fight is the same as giving up. But it was the decent thing to do. Think of this—" he tapped the TM. "—as encouragement. We need more trainers who think like you."
I stared at the yellow disc. I had never received anything like it before. I knew that Wattson was a Gym Leader, that he probably had entire shelves full of TMs like the one he'd given me. But to me, it meant...I felt a lump in my throat.
"You're awfully quiet."
"I don't know what to say," I said.
"A thank-you would do," said Wattson, sounding distinctly amused.
"Thanks," I said, taking a deep breath. I clutched the TM tightly, feeling the ridges dig into my skin. "Wh-what should I even do with this?"
"Well," Wattson said, opening the door and winking at me as we headed back into the neon glare of the GYm. "I've heard Meowth can learn a great number of TMs."
I left Mauville with a bag full of supplies, a declawed Meowth, and a great deal of nervous energy. I was leaving. I was finally leaving. I stood on a hill and turned back, watching the glowing lights of Mauville in the distance as it sunk in. I'd done it. I'd really done it. I'd gotten out of the alleys.
"Good riddance," I shouted into the wind, feeling a surge of emotion in my chest. I was leaving and I was never coming back. Well, at least until I had to fight Wattson again. But I didn't even have to do that if I didn't want to. From now, I could pick where I made my home, temporary or permanent.
Sometimes, all it took was one moment, and this was it. I was free.
Murphy was obviously enjoying the change of scenery. She bounced around with widened eyes, batting at tufts of grass, chasing wild Taillow (a few of which attacked her), and digging at the ground. I saw her stand on two legs to hold something orange in her forepaws carefully. Could Meowth do that? I'd never seen her do it before. Maybe we could use it in battle? I watched as she sent a jolt of electricity at an overly curious Taillow (I'd managed to teach her Shock Wave after an hour of consulting the instruction pamphlet, though she wasn't experienced enough to do nothing more than give off the occasional spark). She quickly retreated back towards me, running on two legs, still holding the object she'd found in her forepaws.
"Mwoor," she said, pushing it into my hands. I took it and looked at it. It was a Super Potion. The container of liquid medicine was still half-full. A few experimental sprays proved that the nozzle still worked. Some trainer with enough money and supplies had probably thrown it away after using only half of it. I didn't have enough of either of the two, so I put the Potion in my bag and thanked Murphy with an ear-scratch.
There were a few trainers milling around. Murphy took down a pink-haired girl's Spoink and Zigzagoon with a few well-timed Bites, and dispatched another boy's Goldeen with a few shaky Shock Waves. It seemed to take her a great amount of concentration to aim it, and she quickly lost control of the arcs of lightning if she grew distracted. I saw a sign next to a cozy-looking house promising challenging battles and almost decided to enter, but a trainer I didn't even know pulled me away firmly.
"Don't bother," he said resignedly. "No one beats the Winstrates."
He said the word 'Winstrate' in the same frustrated way that I would have said 'Cam's Beautifly' or 'Maddie', so I took this to mean that the Winstrate family was very terrifying indeed.
There was a large lake near the Winstrate house; I stopped to take a look, remembering how Murphy had a fondness for playing with water. As long as I watched her carefully, she didn't fall in very often. While I walked, she darted in and out between my legs, prancing about playfully. I smiled. This was a side I hadn't seen so far. It seemed that even she was eager to get out of Mauville.
There was a fisherman wearing a red hat by the lakeshore. His fishing pole was propped up on a rickety metal stand, the lure bobbing in the water. Next to him was his bag and an empty bucket. I peered at him from behind a tree as Murphy batted at the water experimentally. Funny, he didn't seem to be very interested in actually fishing.
The fisherman glanced about. He couldn't see me with the fish blocking his view, so maybe that's why he started doing what he did next. He opened his bag and started pulling out Pokéballs, one after another. I snorted, wondering what he was planning on catching that required so many Pokéballs to snag. But he didn't reel in his line, even though the lure had briefly sunk underwater, pulled by some hungry Pokémon. Instead, he began opening the Pokéballs one by one. I watched, growing more and more interested (this was certainly more entertaining than watching Murphy play with the water) as he began to set Pokémon from the Pokéballs free into the lake, then broke the red-and-white spheres in half. Why was he releasing so many Pokémon?
"Why are you releasing so many Pokémon?" Curiosity won out, and I decided to screw subtlety and head on over. The fisherman yelped as I walked up to him; clearly, he hadn't noticed that I was there. Strangely enough, he didn't just look surprised; he looked scared.
"I-I didn't know there was anyone watching!" he hissed. "Did you see—you didn't see—oh Arceus, are you going to report me?"
I frowned. This wasn't going where I thought it would. But I had a hunch of what was going on. This guy was scared because I caught him in the middle of doing something that I could report him for. He looked nervous. He looked worried.
Maybe I could get something from the situation.
"I don't know," I said, adopting a thoughtful expression. I had no idea what he had been doing, or why it was illegal, but it was in my best interest to act like I did. "I guess I'm supposed to report something like this. It's the law, right?" I bluffed, glancing into the lake. The Pokémon that had been released were splashing and swimming about in the water, but I didn't recognize any of them. I saw a blue, reptilian Pokémon with large fangs, another orange Pokémon with two tails and a squishy yellow ring around its neck, and a colorful assortment of fish-like Pokémon. They looked healthy and exotic; I didn't have a clue as to why he'd been so eager to get rid of them.
"Look, no one has to report anything." The fisherman was panicking now, holding his hands up placatingly. "Kid. Look. I'm just a local breeder, okay? I'm not hurting anyone, buddy, I just needed a place to dump a couple rejects. It's just this one lake, I swear—"
A breeder. There were plenty of breeders in Mauville, selling foreign and selectively bred Pokémon to the rich clients and strong trainers that came to the city. 'Rejects'...he'd been getting rid of his surplus stock. I took another look at the Pokémon in the lake. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with them, besides the fact that they weren't commonly found in the area.
Murphy padded up to me, her fur wet and meowing grumpily. Then again, Meowth weren't supposed to be found in Mauville either, I reflected. Then I understood.
"Dumping non-native species into the wild?" I said. "There's gotta be a fine for that."
The fisherman jumped like I'd stuck him with a pin. Bulls-eye. Bingo. Ten points to Riley. "There isn't—I-I can't—kid, calm down," he said hastily. "Look, have a little sympathy, okay? I really can't afford a fine. It's j-just this one lake I use. One lake doesn't screw up a whole ecosystem. I get rid of the extra Pokémon, trainers stop by and catch them, everyone wins. Would reporting this—tell you what, here—" and before I could figure out what he was doing, he reached into his bag and brought out the last Pokéball.
"Look, I'll make it worth your while. Take this. Take this and don't say anything." he shoved it into my hand.
I blinked, staring down at it. "What's in this?"
"It's called a Skrelp." the fisherman was backing up cautiously, packing up his supplies like he expected me to cuff him then and there. "They're not native to Hoenn, they're from a region called Kalos—agh, go look them up, okay?"
"Uh, I don't—"
"Look them up," the fisherman repeated, slinging his bag over his shoulder and scrambling away. "It'll be worth your time, I promise—you didn't see me here, okay? You didn't!" and with that he bolted. I watched him go. Murphy meowed inquisitively and turned towards me.
"I have no idea," I said, weighing the Pokéball in my hand. "But I think we just got a new teammate." Nice. And I hadn't even had to throw any Pokéballs. Money saved is money earned.
I looked over into the lake, hoping I could catch some more of the breeding rejects. But there was nothing there. The Pokémon had scattered, ready to make their homes in this strange new world.
The Skrelp was the ugliest thing I'd ever seen. It didn't look like a Pokémon. It looked like a weed. It looked like a stick. A stick with huge blood-red eyes and a skinny, arched body. I could see the curve of its spine through its skin, which was slightly slimy to the touch—I should know, because it latched itself onto me as soon as I released it from its Pokéball, and refused to let go.
"Aghhhhghhgahhghh," I said, flailing my arm around frantically. The Skrelp had wound itself around my forearm and was making a weird burbling noise. Bubbles dripped from its tiny snout. It smelled like rotting leaves and I gagged. "Getoffgetoffgetoff."
The Skrelp made a noise that sounded vaguely like a "mrlup" and began rubbing its head up and down my skin. It did not let go.
"Murphy!" I said desperately, trying to pry our new teammate off. It was like trying to grab a greased tomato. "Murphy, help me get it off!"
Murphy stared at me with a hint of slight interest in her eyes. I was one hundred percent sure that she understood what I was saying. Her whiskers twitched and she sat down to watch, the tip of her tail flicking from side to side.
"You think this is funny, don't you? This isn't funny."
Murphy yawned.
"Haha. You're so funny. You're so smart." I tried loosening the Skrelp's grip. It coiled around me tighter. Now it had closed its eyes and was making a contented cooing sound. I sighed and sat down onto the grass, bringing it up to my eye level. It was even uglier up close. I wondered if that was why it had been a reject.
"You have to get off me. Okay?" I said seriously.
The Skrelp opened one eye and stared at me, then closed it again. Murphy made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a purr. I groaned and held my head in my hands, the Skrelp still wound tightly around my left arm.
"I can't believe it," I said. "First Thorn, now you—why do I get all the problem Pokémon? How are we going to battle like this?"
As soon as I said the word 'battle,' the Skrelp's eyes shot open. It twisted off of me and fell to the ground, standing upright on three plant-like limbs, an alert, eager expression in its bulging eyes.
"Msreeellp," it burbled, suddenly all business. It narrowed its eyes, its body swaying as it searched for a foe. I gaped. The Skrelp arched its back and suddenly spat a stream of acid that sizzled as it hit the grass and dirt. Well, I thought dumbly, at least no one can say it's unenthusiastic.
The Skrelp was still standing upright, looking intensely around for a battle. I sighed, sitting down in the grass. What an oddball of a Pokémon. Why were none of the Pokémon I owned normal? "Come on back, there's no need to freak out. We're not battling now."
A mistake. The Skrelp launched itself back towards me and wrapped around my arm again, cooing happily. Murphy actually meowed with what was obviously amusement. I glared at her. She kept eye contact with me, reached out a paw, and knocked the Skrelp's Pokéball from the grass into the water.
"I'm pretty sure you're just a huge troll," I informed her after I fished it out, the Skrelp still wound tightly around my forearm.
"Mworr," she agreed.
I glanced at the Skrelp. It stared back at me, blowing bubbles from its tiny mouth with an affectionate look in its bulbous eyes. "You can make acid, huh? What else can you do?" I jiggled my arm gently. "Do something else?"
The Skrelp eagerly arched its neck and spat a fountain of water. A few droplets landed on my ankle. It took me a few seconds to realize the water was really, really hot.
"Ohhhhhhh—owwwwww, owowow—"
It was too bad I had no idea what the super hot water attack was called.
"Use that water spout thing," I said. "The one that makes really hot water. The one you used before."
The Skrelp stared blankly at me. A short distance away, the wild Sandshrew we were battling looked vaguely bored and began to nose at the ground, looking for food.
"Boiling water. Steaming water. Burning water?" I said weakly. The Skrelp made a confused bubbling noise. "Never mind, just use Acid." It immediately perked up and shot a jet of bubbling acid at the Sandshrew, which yelped and rolled aside. It darted into the bushes to escape. The Skrelp looked disappointed. For a so-called 'reject', it was awfully well-trained and actually pretty strong.
I sighed. After an afternoon spent experimenting with the Skrelp's moves, I still hadn't figured out how to get it to produce the jet of hot water again. I'd learned that it could shoot a small stream of poison, camouflage itself to blend in with its surroundings and one time, produced a suspiciously spiky object that I was afraid to examine. But no amount of creative names could get it to produce boiling water. The Skrelp was enthusiastic, at least.
"Okay, that does it. I can't keep calling you 'The Skrelp'," I said to it. It didn't respond, instead sniffing at a patch of lichen and mouthing at with its tiny snout. "What do you feel like being called?"
The Skrelp, obviously, didn't respond. I hmmed, running my hand through my hair. It was a hot day out. "Let's see…Leaf?"
Murphy, who was lounging in the sun nearby watching our failed attempts to battle, made a distinctive coughing sound that I heard her make when she was especially unimpressed. I hoped it was a coincidence. "Maybe not. Uhh." I looked at it carefully. It was a vaguely purple color, a sickly kind of purple that I didn't think occurred naturally. Outside of toxic waste, maybe. "What's another word for purple?" Violet? No, too pretty. Mauve? No, that was my name.
"This is hard," I said to myself. Murphy's eyes were half-closed and she looked close to falling asleep. The Skrelp was preoccupied with blowing bubbles again. I watched as it inhaled and dribbled a stream of bubbles onto the ground, then paused and blew a larger bubble that floated into the air before popping. I stared.
"Bubbles?" I said. The Skrelp turned to me and burbled. Murphy opened her eyes and stared at me, her tail flicking. I thought about it. It was an annoyingly cute name, the sort of name I would have expected to be given to a Marill or a Squirtle, not the big-eyed freakish thing that was my Skrelp. It was weird.
"What isn't weird about our team?" I said out loud. Murphy was declawed and I'd grown up clawing for scraps in the alleys of Mauville. Weird was fine. I liked weird. "Bubbles it is. Until I can think of something better."
A/N: Bubbles the Skrelp. Riley...is not the best at naming things.
Coming up next: Riley runs into two kids playing gangsters. What a couple of wannabes. And what kind of a name is Team Aqua, anyways?