4.
The Mad One
I've got no reason to go home alone
When I know that it's not that fun~
It hung above them like a bulwark of thunder clouds.
A massive inverted cone of interlocking gears and hunks of metal coated the ceiling like a steely-gray sealant. It spiraled inward and coiled thickly around the video display screen hanging in the center of the arena. The screens themselves were choked with silicone and grease. Lattices of bolted beams painted blue and yellow supported the entire construction. At points, foot-thick ribs of insulation were consumed by intricate, crystalline structures of bulbs and switches and precarious wires feathering into empty air like a grim sort of silk. It was a silent behemoth of a machine, yet its purpose was concealed behind the thousands of nuts and bolts making up its iron skin.
"Well, it looks, to me, with the cinder block foundation and all the female-end extension cords hanging from the ceiling, that this is your average black box theater. There's one just like it in the basement of the arts building at Jubilife University," Jameson said.
"That's the problem," Esmé replied. "Last time I was here, this gym didn't have a ceiling. It was built to be open-concept. Natural daylight streamed into the arena, and at night the lights came on via collected solar power. Whatever that monstrosity is, Volkner's built it within the past year or so."
"Really? One young man was capable of constructing all this on his own?"
"I don't want to believe it either, but that's the curse of Sunyshore. Can't have such pristine blue waters without birthing a mad genius every generation. Volkner's even got a two-for-one. You're looking at the lesser evil."
The two just stared at the evil — at the mass of metal above, seeming to move and roil as the dim light played tricks on their eyes. They looked at the streamlined and simple battleground of the arena below rows of empty seats, and then caught each other's faces. Jameson of the Pokémon Association Sinnoh Region Safety Division looked more awed than concerned, and Esmé of the Pokémon Inspection Agency, with her keen eyes and wrinkles, couldn't have looked more perturbed.
And then the silence was broken. Shouting and scuffling erupted in the nearest stairwell — two voices, seemingly, one a harsh female and the other a cocky male. Jameson gripped the guardrail and blocked Esmé's body with his own, but she only groaned and shrugged her shoulders at the development. Shadows grew on the electric-green wall as the figures struggled, evidently fighting their way to the very top row of seating.
The first of them to emerge was the man. Blue jacket. Scuffed and rubber-soled shoes. Blond hair a mess of perpetual static. Blue eyes bright with surprise as they scanned the two visitors observing the arena. Behind him, wrenching his wrists together and kicking at his ankles, was one Officer Jenny. Despite all her protests, her captive was still stronger, and managed to drag her halfway over to the visitors before Esmé gestured for his release.
"You are not allowed on the premises," the policewoman spat. "Ms. Esmé, I can make him leave."
"No need. Focus on keeping the protesters out," Esmé said. "Here's our evil genius, Jameson."
"Woah, woah, woah. Cyrus was the evil one. I'm the mad one. I thought that's what we agreed on last time," Volkner corrected, sidling over to where the old woman hunched over the guard rail. He gave Jameson a critical eye. "You're new, though. Hi, Jameson. I'm Volkner. Mad genius. And welcome to the Sunyshore Gym, where we have the most electrifying battles in Sinnoh."
Jameson was taken aback, but he knuckled his shades back up over pale green eyes and shook Volkner's hand.
"A pleasure. But tell me, what is that stupendous structure you've constructed above the arena?"
"Oh, that?" Volkner leaned over the rail and squinted up into the eldritch nightmare of his own design. "An experiment. Well, it started as a few fixtures to create special electric effects during battles, but the voltage was too high, so I had to modify it to disperse the currents a bit, and then it turned into an experiment. Have you ever heard of the move Electric Terrain? Some Pokémon can flood a battlefield with charged particles that enhance Electric-Type moves, but Luxray's the only one I use. I was wondering if I could artificially create the Electric Terrain effect for the rest of my partners. I've got special nodes installed up there that react to a signal and spin gears according to various voltages present in the atmosphere, and they're supposed to create a small electromagnetic field that pulls the particles into a stable static formation below."
"You want to flood the arena with various voltages? Is that safe?"
"You tell me. You're the safety guy. I… mean… I've tested it. It's nothing a human can't handle. Have you ever been hit by an Electric-Type move? Just a weak one? Like Thunderbolt, but used by Pichu."
"Try Pikachu," Jameson said.
"Sure. There you go. It's like that."
Esmé scoffed. "Volkner, I know you don't listen to lectures, so you don't need me to reiterate that a Gym Leader's primary duty is to provide intense battle experiences. If you weren't a Gym Leader it would be simple enough to shut down your machines and stop the blackouts. But because you're letting your dangerous interests interfere with your work here at the gym, we have greater consequences. That's why the PIA has suspended this gym."
Volkner clicked his tongue. "Wow. If you didn't want me tinkering at the gym, you should've just let me join the Four. All Flint's done this summer is go to parties and teach chicks to surf."
"Flint's free time is a privilege he earned."
"His freedom, you mean."
She landed a backhanded slap on his nearest wrist. "That's about enough of your cheek. You should be ashamed as a Gym Leader."
Volkner turned away entirely then, almost walking off before Esmé grabbed his left shoulder and held him in place. He slouched, and all the bold sparkle faded from his eyes.
"Right, right… so I'm banned from my own gym and stripped of my tinkering privileges. Some argue I'm the strongest Gym Leader in Sinnoh. My fangirls won't be happy about this."
"It's not that simple," Esmé muttered.
And Volkner knew what she meant. A few minutes prior, he'd been outside pushing his way through the two hordes — the great crowd of protesters rallying for the gym and all its gadgetry to be completely dismantled, and the much smaller retinue of "Volknerds" praying their flashing of the V Sign wouldn't be seen as ironic.
"It is in bad taste to feed the ego of a mob," Jameson said. "However, I do think we need a demonstration of Volkner's new gym enhancement so we can judge whether it poses a hazard. Obviously, if it's safe and functional, it will need some modifications so it doesn't overload the power grid."
"I already made modifications. I was gonna make more tonight, but apparently I'm not allowed in here."
"Volkner, would you please demonstrate your experiment? Turn it on for us," Jameson said.
Esmé opened her mouth to argue, but Volkner just nodded, hopping over every row of seats until he flung himself over the last guard rail and into the arena. He tossed his jacket over his shoulder and stood in the Gym Leader's position, releasing Jolteon out onto the battlefield.
"Voice command. Begin Training Program No. 2: Electric Boogaloo. Easy mode. Authorization Code Volkner-0-2-1-0-1-9."
With a series of bangs, a circle of bright, white stadium floodlights popped on to illuminate the whole arena. Then a hissing zing brought snakes of purple plasma wafting up from coils at each corner of the battlefield. Jameson and Esmé turned to find bright blue and neon yellow static crawling along the walls in careful paths from node to node. It sputtered and feathered, weaving between the seats until the plasma shuddered, suddenly, and snapped into the unmistakable shapes of a thousand miniature Vs throughout the gym.
"Yes, I see how this could be an unusual energy cost now," Jameson whispered.
"That's just for show," Esmé told him.
Then a few great gears rumbled on the opponent's side of the battlefield. The storage room door on the far wall creaked as it slid open, and out lept a large quadruped robot. With extendable hydraulic claws and a set of gold alloy-coated fangs jutting from its silicon skull, it was a Luxray's mechanical skeletal double. Static crackled along its sloping back, and it skulked forward onto the field with flashing eyes.
Volkner cast his right arm forward and narrowed his eyes in concentration.
"Now, Jolteon! Start using Quick Attack continuously!"
Jolteon hunched in on itself, making its spiky fur stand on end like needles. Then it launched itself forward, sprinting with literal lightning speed toward its opponent. The robo-Luxray hissed and vomited a white blast of plasma. Jolteon jumped over the attack before sliding under the metal cat and slamming into its stomach head-first.
Robo-Luxray was thrown clear off its paws, landing a few feet away. Quickly, it adjusted its bearings and raised itself again. The claws came out, sparking and glowing with energy. Robo-Luxray vaulted toward Jolteon, slashing and biting. Sparks skittered and fizzled in waves where its claws made contact with the floor. It kneeled on its front legs and wiggled its tail, trying to nail where to pounce next.
But Jolteon was too fast. Its gold and white fur was flashing, fully-charged and flying over Robo-Luxray's head. The mechanical opponent growled. It sprayed another volley of plasma up into the air, which clipped one of Jolteon's paws.
Jolteon tumbled downward and rolled when it smacked into the floor. Its lips rode up on sparking fangs, and its dark trained eyes focused on the soulless face of the machine.
Volkner, meanwhile, had left his post entirely. He was on a service ladder fifty feet above the arena, hanging from a horizontal portion. One rung was gripped snugly between the rubber soles of his shoes, while one hand gripped the one above his chest for dear life. His left hand reached upwards. Between the rungs, he grasped for a blue switch hidden in a narrow corridor of metal laced with wires. His fingers brushed the lever, then wrenched it downward.
"Please work," he whispered.
Then a great low drone echoed as the machinery rumbled to life. Bulbs lit up in yellow and blue. Static jumped and coils began to twitch between the groaning gears. Now the beast was awake, roiling steadily and struggling to make sense of its weight above the battle below.
White lightning burst from the nearest coil. Volkner cursed and climbed down as fast as he could, dodging the sudden electric effects. Hot static shot through his palms and seared up his arms. Voltage on the lightshow still too high, he noted. And that was before the monstrosity's new primary function was applied.
"I thought it was against the rules for a trainer to leave his Pokémon unattended during a gym battle. An automatic forfeit, is it not?" Jameson asked.
"That's the least of our worries right now," Esmé told him. She gripped the guard rail, shocked as she watched Volkner stiff and struggling to force his way back down the ladder while the lightning pursued him. When he was ten feet from the ground he jumped, throwing himself at an angle toward the arena below. His elbows caught him for a split second before he rolled, in a similar fashion to Jolteon, right into the center circle. His heart rate jolted, and he coughed.
An eerie buzz filled the air. The prismatic plasma of the lightshow above suddenly flared. Blue sparks faded to white, then deepened again to a rich midnight purple. The droning echo pulsed, louder and stronger, as tendrils of hazy light spread and sank from the ceiling down to the battlefield. It crackled when it reached Jolteon's fur. The Pokémon burst into a halo of vibrant electricity. Robo-Luxray sparked and flashed and short-circuited immediately. Its gold-alloy fangs blasted from its mouth and came to dig far too close to where Volkner lay. He jerked, but the current still jumped to spike him in the nose. He sneezed, and his hair grew more pins than Jolteon's pelt.
"Electric Terrain!" he cried, raising both hands in the air and feeling the sticky waves of static tickle between his fingers. "That's what I've been waitin' for! That's what it's all about!"
"And can your Pokémon use enhanced Electric-Type moves now that the artificial Electric Terrain is in place?" Esmé called from the top row of seating.
Volkner scrunched his nose. Flint had once called him a human electrometer, able to measure ambient voltage purely based on how his body felt. Right now his skin was prickling just enough in the field to be uncomfortable. He could make out red forks forming on his arms from the shocks on the ladder. And as panic drained from his system, his heart rate was nestling back down to somewhere in the hundred and fifty range, which meant the voltage was still too high for any normal human or non-Electric-Type Pokémon to handle without injury.
"Yeah, Jolteon's definitely powered up! I don't think you need to see it shock me to understand!"
"I didn't mean…! Oh, just shut it down and get yourself out of there. Obviously it's powered up, and you're shaking."
"It'll… shut down by itself after a few minutes… Safety feature… What I need is a bigger gym… Nngh…"
Volkner's chest felt as if it were bound with rubber. His heart was pounding against his ribs, and needles were racing up and down his spine. But the sticky glow was still stable, and the dancing lightning above glittered like a barrage of electric fireworks. Cerulean and neon yellow and purple.
Jolteon had to push him up from where he sat and lead him to the nearest stairwell door, where he lazily picked up his jacket. He ascended to meet Esmé and Jameson halfway up. The two of them led him, (too afraid to touch his sparking form,) to the maintenance door at the back of the gym for some fresh air. Luckily the protesters were confined to the area out front. It was dark out now. Numerous stars twinkled out over the ocean.
Zero lights glowed in half of Sunyshore City.
"Take a break, Volkner. Do some training. Do some networking. Join that World Coronation Series deal the Galarians started. Oh, though I suppose you'd need a Rotom for that, and that Pokémon is on your blacklist. Maybe go to a party and take a surfing lesson from your friend Flint," Esmé said, hastily fishing the leftover Beacon Badges from the pockets of his jacket. "He told me you're not malicious. Just scatterbrained. But the League won't tolerate 'quirks' when they almost get Leaders killed."
"I can bring the voltage down."
"Go home!" she screeched. "Jameson, take him to get an EKG test. I've got to assure the protesters this gym will not host any battles in the foreseeable future."
Volkner glared, but the only valid protest was roaring on the other side of the gym.
Sunyshore City was uncanny in the dark. It wasn't supposed to be. Back when it was a small seaside village and its name was spelled correctly, the promontories were a notorious meeting spot for lovers, and the beaches pulled in all manner of campers and creatives looking to get the best view of a night sky over the ocean.
Then came the fishing industry. Then came the gym. Then came the slums. Then came Volkner. And Sunyshore became that uncanny mix of nautical-rustic and futuristic. Gym Leader Jasmine even called it iconic when she visited, and Volkner informed her New Urbanism had that effect on people, and asked if she wanted to buy a million dollar plot on the promontory.
The quiet was nice. No more of Esmé's preaching, and out here in the street, none of Flint's prattling. About chicks. About parties. About Volkner needing to watch his reputation. As if the Four were invisible on society's stage. As if a Gym Leader's reputation needed to be such a chemical solution of intelligence and success and innovation and being only intelligent and successful and innovative enough for the masses to understand.
"Will you just kidnap me already?" he snapped at Jameson, still trailing behind him.
They'd been walking around town in circles for an hour after Volkner denied every claim he was injured. His insurance wouldn't cover another EKG and monitor patch to tell him he had arrhythmia, he explained. If he even still had insurance.
"Kidnap you!?" Jameson gasped. "I'm not trying to kidnap you. I was only instructed to look after you."
Volkner wheeled around. He seized the man by both arms and shoved him up against the nearest brick-and-silicon wall with a knee to the stomach — a move he'd never forgotten from the days of fighting hooligans where the Ginterson Building now stood.
"What kind of exaggerated quartile did you use to guess my IQ, Team Rocket trash? Maybe I'm scatterbrained, but I'm competent enough as a Gym Leader to know who to look for in my city."
The man squirmed, but Volkner was stronger. "Now, how do you come to the conclusion that I'm a criminal like those Team Rocket hooligans? I'm a safety agent! I only have your best interests in mind, Gym Leader chum!"
Volkner rolled his eyes. He pressed his knee deeper into the man's stomach to anchor him, then unbuttoned the overcoat and dress shirt to reveal the telltale red R emblazoned over his chest.
"It was you, the bossy lady, and the cat. You tried to steal Sunyshore Tower that one time, and it shouldn't take a mad genius to tell you're back to kidnap the engineer who designed it. No real safety agent would look at that machine I built at the gym and ask me to turn it on. But the Rockets hail me as a celebrity, right? You had to see my abilities for yourself."
"What!? No! I mean yes! But… Let me explain myself! It wasn't about kidnapping you! Jessie, she's the 'bossy lady,' she sent me here because we were off-duty for a couple of days and we wanted to know why everyone on the internet keeps making this V Sign with their hands! Tracked it here to Sunyshore City, you see!"
Volkner jabbed the man once more in the gut for good measure, then let him go free, leaning next to him on the wall.
"Don't move. I have a full team on me."
"My curiosity got the best of me. I'm my squad's mech mechanic, and you don't lie when you say some Team Rocket engineers have mentioned your name in admiration."
"Yeah? Well Cyrus, that total freakshow four years my senior, once tried to poison my dad when he refused to let me become one of his engineers. My whole family got Team Galactic death threats for months. The Rockets must've popped a cork when they realized I didn't sniff some antimatter and turn into a sleep paralysis demon."
"Is that… true?"
"You think I wouldn't know if it was true?"
"This city really is cursed."
"Maybe, but you gotta love those stars… Your real name was James, if I'm not mistaken. Hard to forget the whole motto thing."
"Yes, I'm James… and Volkner remembered that… Wow, I even got to shake your hand."
"Just quit it with the hero worship and tell me when we're leaving. I can pack and meet you outside city limits."
James held up his hands. "Volkner, there's really no plot to kidnap you. You may have lost your title for the time being, but joining us is, well, it's as steep a drop as the promontory."
"You steal Pokémon though, right?"
"Er, right."
"Well, I want a Rotom. The League won't let me have one. You can help me get one, and I'll share a little of my technical expertise. No one will have to kidnap me, then."
"Uh, I…" James spluttered. Slowly, he pushed himself away from the wall, stripping off the rest of his suit to reveal the baggy getup beneath. "Are you serious!? But you're a Gym Leader!"
"You don't want my help?"
"Yes, but you could join any other squad! The one with Jessie and Meowth and me is a laughingstock! We tried to steal Sunyshore Tower!"
"One, I wish you had stolen it. Two, I hate incompetence. And when I hate something, I get a terrible urge to fix it. So tell me, James, when are we leaving?"
James gulped.
"Hey V! Candice wants a surfing lesson today! Get off your butt and join us!"
Flint knocked incessantly at the gear-encrusted door to the penthouse guest room, each time smarting his knuckles on the metal. He pressed an ear to the crack and waited for the telltale groaning and creaking of the bed.
"You haven't gotten a tan all summer! What, are you waiting to get struck by lightning? Don't answer that."
"Volkner! Flint says you've been working out! I wanna see!" Candice cooed at his side.
"Yeah, I told her you got jacked."
The two stood, waiting for the sarcastic retort, but it never came. Curious, Flint released Infernape and commanded it to use a light Thunder Punch on the gears. They began to spin with the current, allowing the lock to come loose and the door to swing inward.
Volkner was not in bed, nor was he anywhere in the bedroom or the bathroom. His Poké Balls, save for one, were all dusted and cupped in their holders on the nightstand.
"Flint, look," Candice squeaked, pointing to the closet.
Flint screwed up his face at the sight of Volkner's blue jacket hanging up — the one he'd worn since becoming the Gym Leader of Sunyshore.
"That's not good," he muttered. "I hope he wasn't kidnapped or something. He had his jacket when he came in last night, and I didn't hear anyone else come in after him."
"Volkner wouldn't let himself be kidnapped if he didn't have that jacket. It defines him."
"Yeah, along with that hair… Wait…"
Flint suddenly reached up, poking and probing into his dense bush of curls. After a few seconds, he felt something foreign wedged against his scalp and tugged at it. Out came a small bit of paper written on in a familiar lazy hand.
It read:
"Don't follow me."
~N~
What do the Elite Four even do in the anime world? They're challenged once a year by the tournament winner and just… have exhibition battles otherwise? Try challenging the champion themselves every once in a while? Sounds like a sweeter gig than Gym Leader or League Champion, but probably problematic for Volkner's productive personality. Still, there's never been an Electric Four member before…
Man, I really wanted to have him introduce himself as the mad genius Volkner Jay Ginterson, Jay being a reference to Brent Jay Spiner, but then I remembered Jay is the lightning ninja from Ninjago, and that was too silly. So I used Spiner's initials as the authorization code instead.
Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net January 5th, 2022. Repost authorization denied!