Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.
A/N What? No! Sound and Silence, back from the dead?! This cannot be! :O
Oh, yes it can, people! The Ungreat and Unmighty Geekachu has ridden in to save the day—or in this case, the story. You may call me Sir Geekachu, if you would like.
So, anyway, I owe you guys an explanation. My absence was caused by a number of things, mostly school and writer's block, but also a bit of health-related stuff. I actually managed to land myself in an ambulance recently! :D Riding in an ambulance isn't actually that bad, once you get used to it (yeah, this hasn't exactly been my first time). All the needles aren't quite as fun, though. And lying around in a hospital is extremely boring.
On another much more positive note, HAVE YOU GUYS HEARD ABOUT POKÉMON SUN AND MOON?! I FEEL A GREAT NEED TO TELL ANYONE WHO WILL LISTEN.
On another positive note, GUESS WHAT! While I was writing this chapter, I noticed that it was getting absolutely gigantic. So I split it into two parts. That means you will be getting another chapter as soon as this weekend! :D
Okay, I should probably let you get to the chapter now.
Enjoy!
OoOoOoOoO
Chapter 12: Questions
Ah, Goldenrod City. A beautiful place full of parks, museums, shopping centers, and even special buildings and outdoor arenas made specifically for pokémon training and battling.
Oh, and people.
Gold squirmed slightly as he felt himself being constantly bumped into by the other passengers in the subway he was in. While he would have much preferred going Whitney's gym on foot, the sheer size of the city and the fact that the gym was in the heart of it meant that their destination was miles away. So to save time and energy, he'd opted to take a train, which was feeling more claustrophobic by the minute. Gold counted himself lucky that noise didn't faze him, for obvious reasons.
Just as he was thinking this, Quilava decided to express her complaints. It's noisy in here, she whined. We should have just walked. Quilava was currently sitting on her haunches next to Gold, front legs firmly wrapped around his thigh. The novelty of taking her first train ride had worn off by now—and they'd only been traveling for ten minutes.
Gold just rolled his eyes. You know, I told you that you could just stay in your pokéball, he said unsympathetically. But no, you insisted on staying out. So don't blame me.
Whatever. Are we there yet?
Coincidentally, the train chose that moment to slowly come to a stop. Yeah, we're here, he said unnecessarily as they made their way out of the train and onto the concrete floor of the underground tunnel. He walked along the still-crowded area, looking around for a way out. He and Quilava pushed through the crowds and past several vending machines—which quickly caught Quilava's attention and stopped her in her tracks.
Hey, Gold, she said. I want some lemonade. She put her front paws up against the glass of one of the machines and looked at him with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.
You had some when we first got here, Gold said.
That was like a month ago! she whined.
We've only been here for a week.
Same difference. Gold, pleeeeeeease?
Gold gave a sigh of resignation as he sat down on a conveniently-placed bench. Fine, he grumbled. But first pick out something for Aipom too.
Dude, have you forgotten that I can't read the—Gold?
As Gold had been leaning back in his seat, something had caught his eye. Wedged between the machine and the tunnel wall was something brown and furry. What's that? he asked no one in particular. As he leaned in closer, he detected a pair of wide brown eyes. The shadows made it hard to tell exactly what it was, but he had a guess. But the pokémon he was thinking of was rare and almost never seen in the wild—or in this case, alone in a big city.
Quilava walked over to where Gold was looking and squinted at the mysterious ball of fur. Dunno, she said. Coming closer until she was about a foot away from the pokémon, she cocked her head. Are you okay? she asked.
After a pause, she turned her attention back to Gold. She says she's stuck, Quilava explained.
Gold crouched down closer to the pokémon. You want some help? he asked.
The creature's eyes widened. You can talk? she said in what sounded almost like awe.
No, it's all in your imagination, he said sarcastically. So do you want to get out of there or what?
It took a minute for her to respond. No thanks, she eventually said. I'm hiding.
From who? Gold asked. And why?
People keep chasing me around, she said. I think some of them want to catch me. Do you want to catch me? Though it doesn't really matter, she continued before Gold had time to respond. I already have a trainer and a pokéball, so you wouldn't be able to do that anyway. I'm Eevee, by the way. Hi.
So he was right after all. But what was an eevee doing here? Um, hi, Gold said awkwardly. I'm Gold, and this is Quilava, he said, pointing at said pokémon. And look, I really think I should just pull you out or something.
Don't bother, she said morosely. I'm not worth your time. Besides, my trainer might come looking for me. I was at a park near here when we got separated.
Well, since we're here anyway, why don't we help you find them? Gold offered. We're not doing anything anyway.
Besides getting drinks, Quilava added pointedly.
We'll get those later, he said, causing Quilava to look at him in outrage. Right now, we have a job to do.
Quilava scrunched up her nose. Yeah, fine, whatever. Let's hurry this up. And with that, she reached behind Eevee, grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, and yanked hard. The force caused her to fall backwards onto the concrete, bringing Eevee along with her. Quilava got up immediately and shook herself off, but Eevee continued to lie prostrate on the floor.
Gold poked her lightly. You okay? he asked.
Yes, unfortunately, she said sadly. I think I'd be more useful to people if I were dead.
Gold shook his head as he scooped her up. Don't say that kind of stuff, he said sternly. Anyway, where'd you leave your trainer?
A park, she said as Gold and Quilava began to walk towards the exit.
What kind of park? Gold asked her.
I don't know, really. One with trees.
Over the next few minutes, Gold continued to drill Eevee for more useful information. By the time he had gotten an extremely vague description of what her trainer looked like and where exactly he might be, they had reached a small, sparsely populated park with a little pond in the middle of it and a smattering of benches here and there. And trees.
Is this it? Gold asked, looking around for a tall brown-haired man (this was the only information he had to go by).
Yeah, this is the one, Eevee said gloomily. I wonder if my trainer got sick of me and gave up looking. That's what happens in the movies. The protagonist gets lost, and everyone who goes looking for him gives up after a while. Then he comes back years later as a changed man. I wonder if that'll happen to me.
What, that you'll come back as a changed man? Quilava asked.
Yeah, Eevee said. Maybe I could disappear for a while then find him again when I'm an umbreon. That's basically the only way my story will have a happy ending.
So you wanna evolve into an umbreon, huh? said Gold, purposely ignoring the rest of what Eevee had said.
Yeah, she said with a nod. It matches the darkness I feel in my soul.
Well, aren't you a little bucket of sunshine? Quilava said blandly. Not emo at all.
What does "emo" mean? Eevee asked, sounding curious for the first time. Is it bad?
It doesn't matter, Gold said, seating himself on one of the benches, hoping Eevee's trainer would come across them soon. Quilava gave him a look of annoyance, but didn't argue. Instead, she simply flopped herself down on the grass next to him.
Gold checked his Pokégear, which told him it was almost noon. If the trainer didn't show up by one o' clock, Gold decided he would simply drop Eevee off at the nearest pokémon center. Until then, he would try to keep everyone occupied.
Without saying anything, Gold grabbed Aipom's pokéball and released him. After the normal-type appeared, he immediately turned to Gold with a big smile on his face—one which he immediately dropped upon seeing the stranger on Gold's lap.
Who's that? he said in lieu of greeting.
You don't look very happy to meet me, she observed, ears drooping. I seem to have that effect on people.
What? No! said Aipom, looking dismayed. I was just, um, surprised to see a new face. He kicked shyly at the ground, hands behind his back. So . . . did Gold catch you? he asked awkwardly.
No, Quilava interjected. We're just waiting around for her trainer to show up.
Oh. Okay, Aipom said, giving Eevee a look Gold couldn't quite decipher. Then we're off to the gym, right?
You guys battle in gyms? Eevee asked, sounding rather wistful. Is it fun?
Both pokémon nodded enthusiastically. Heck yeah, it is! said Quilava. They're way harder than other battles. Well, most of them, she added at the end, wrinkling her nose. Gold knew she was thinking about their most recent battle with Silver—a rather humbling experience for the both of them.
Eevee looked thoughtful. I haven't battled much, she said, because my trainer doesn't do that kind of thing for a living, I guess. I watch battles on TV sometimes, though.
Aipom hopped on the bench right next to Gold and Eevee. Do you watch a lot of TV and movies and stuff? he asked. We sometimes do that when we're staying at a pokémon center for the night. Last night, we watched a movie where there were these two cops who pretended they were way younger than they really were so that they could go to school and find out about drug stuff. His eyes widened comically. It was really scary.
I liked that one, said Quilava. But I liked the one we saw the night before more, where there were these people who were making this movie in the jungle. And there was this one guy who was all like "I'm a dude playing a dude disguised as another dude!"
And thus began the long discussion about everyone's favorite movies. Eevee, while not nearly as animated as the others when talking, had quite a lot to say on the subject. Apparently, she had a routine of watching at least two movies every night, and had been doing so for the past few months while she and her trainer had been living in the city.
. . . And so those two basically ended the same way, Eevee finished after a particularly long monologue. The writing was better in the original, I think, but the kung fu was much more realistic in the remake, which is why I like it more. And the whole "wax on, wax off" thing in the first one was kind of lame.
Quilava, who had been surprisingly attentive this whole time, spoke up. So, if it was about kung fu and not karate, why wasn't it called The Kung Fu Kid?
Well, maybe it was because—oh, look, my trainer.
Gold looked. Running down a narrow dirt path that went around the park was a man who mostly matched Eevee's description. While he wasn't as tall as Gold expected—he was maybe five-foot-eight—he was still taller than Gold, which probably made him large as far as Eevee was concerned. His brown, curly hair was in complete disarray, and his button-up shirt and khaki pants were wrinkled. He was heading towards them, waving and saying something Gold couldn't make out.
Eevee lightly hopped off Gold's lap and trotted over to the man. Gold stood up and watched as the man scooped up Eevee and held her tightly to his chest, saying who-knows-what to her. Eevee seemed mildly pleased.
It seemed like their work here was done. Let's go, guys, said Gold, ready to go find Whitney's gym.
Wait, hold up, said Quilava, stopping and looking behind her. That guy's telling you to wait up.
Gold stopped and considered his options. The man didn't seem very threatening, but he was still bigger than Gold and could probably beat him up if he really wanted to. But Gold had two pokémon, and the stranger only appeared to have one (that one being Eevee). So after a moment of deliberation, Gold decided to stay put.
The stranger, who had been jogging to catch up, soon came within talking distance. He started talking quickly, making it difficult for Gold to make out what he was saying. He thought he saw him say "thank you" once or twice, and he gave a rather confusing explanation as to how he and his pokémon had gotten separated—something about there being a crowd somewhere, and lots of kids.
"And now," the man said, slowing down to readable levels, "well, here you are. And Eevee here says you can communicate with pokémon telepathically! Incredible!" He smiled brightly.
Gold blanched. You told him?! he asked Eevee. Why?
Eevee looked apologetic. I didn't know it was a secret, she said. Sorry.
The man, upon seeing Gold's expression, suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Oh . . . this supposed to be private information?" he asked. When Gold gave a curt nod, he looked a little confused. "But why?" he asked. "Other people take months, or even years, to understand even a single species. But to be able to understand any of them without even trying? That's extremely rare. Why hide something like that?"
Because most people will think I'm either a freak or a show-off? Because I want people to like me because of who I am and not what I can do? Gold thought, but he didn't try to explain any of this. The atmosphere had gotten very heavy very fast, and he was feeling more than a little awkward. So he just shrugged.
"Hmm, well, if you really want to keep it to yourself, who am I to judge? Your secret is safe with me! I promise." He smiled at him, and this time, Gold smiled crookedly in return.
Yeah, you'd better promise, Quilava muttered beside him. Who goes off randomly spilling information like that?
People in movies do, said Eevee. And then they get in trouble for it. I really should have seen this coming. This is so cliché.
The stranger, who could only understand Eevee's part of the conversation, looked confused. "What's so cliché?" he asked. "Actually, never mind, forget it. I'm Bill, by the way. Nice to meet you." He stuck out a hand, which Gold shook. Gold typed out an introduction of his own on his Pokégear and showed it to Bill. If Bill thought Gold's silent replies were strange, he was very good at hiding it.
Um, I have a question, said Aipom, who had at some point climbed on Gold's shoulder. Is there any way to bring up the whole deaf thing without sounding awkward?
How about this? Quilava suggested. Yo, Billy Boy, Gold can't hear a single thing you say. He hears literally nothing. He's been having to read your lips this entire time. Any chance you know sign language? Kantonese Sign Language, to be exact? Don't know why there isn't a Johto version of that, but hey, I don't make the rules.
Oh, you can't hear? said Eevee, looking confused. That's a thing?
Bill, upon hearing Eevee's words, had a look of dawning comprehension on his face. "You're deaf?" he asked, and Gold nodded. "And you've been keeping up with everything I've been saying? Incredible!"
Gold felt somewhat inclined to be insulted by someone being surprised that he didn't just understand sign language. But then again, most people—even deaf people—couldn't read lips, so Bill's surprise was justified, he supposed.
And so, as with Eevee, Gold found himself in yet another long conversation. They walked for a while along the path around the park, mostly talking about things pokémon-related. Gold, not wanting to have to use Eevee as his own personal translator, pulled a notepad and pen from his backpack. Eevee was then free to walk along with Gold's pokémon, and their voices faded into the background.
Bill turned out to be a good listener—or rather, a good reader. He seemed as interested in pokémon as Gold was, and was only too happy to hear Gold talk about his companions' personalities and quirks. Gold talked about how his starter had turned from a shy cyndaquil to a confident Quilava, and how her newfound assurance had then taken a blow after a sound beating courtesy of a certain croconaw. He also talked about his encounter with Aipom and his inexplicable knowledge of moves that his species didn't tend to learn in the wild.
"So, thunderbolt and ice punch are his favorites?" Bill asked. "Why do you think that is?"
Gold quickly scribbled down some notes. he says it's because they look cool. he also likes slam and fury swipes and sand attack because he's good at those.
Bill looked thoughtful. "Slam is an egg move, right?" When Gold nodded, he continued. "I'm guessing he came from a breeder. While it's not too hard to find a wild aipom with slam, that along with the TM moves he knows tells me he had a trainer before you. Does he know any other TM moves?
Gold nodded. grass knot, shadow ball, and brick break, he wrote. What he didn't mention was that the glowing grass Aipom summoned was as weak as regular grass, shadow ball was only useful against the occasional gastly they came across, and Gold could barely tell the difference between brick break and slam, even when Aipom was put up against another normal-type.
"So, how good is he at those moves?" Bill asked, and Gold's cringe was all the answer he needed. "Well, aipom aren't exactly known for being particularly powerful. They're usually good when it comes to speed and agility," he said, and Gold nodded in agreement. "But," he said, glancing at the group of pokmon, who had wandered far ahead of them, "it still seems a bit unusual for an aipom to be . . . not so into attacking."
That was just a nice way of saying that Aipom was weak, Gold knew. And honestly, he couldn't disagree. But he still felt the need to defend his partner. he can take out some flying types in one hit with thunderbolt, though, and his ice punch can freeze small puddles all the way through. Gold was actually quite proud of that on Aipom's behalf.
Bill nodded, then abruptly changed the subject. "Your quilava seems quite powerful," he said. "But I was just thinking . . . is there much difference in size between the males and females? I'm mostly an expert on eevee and its evolutions," he explained.
Gold nodded. He'd learned a bit about his starter's species on his Pokédex. He wrote down more notes. the females are usually smaller and slimmer, but they have more firepower.
Bill looked thoughtful. "So that's two pokémon who aren't super sturdy," he observed. "Interesting."
Wow, was this guy a killjoy or what? Gold fought the urge to scowl. there's more to battling then just having tanks, he wrote.
"True," said Bill. "But just look at Champion Lance. All his pokémon are heavy hitters, and pretty darn big and sturdy too. Sam with Red—well, except for his infamous pikachu, of course."
Gold did not roll his eyes. He absolutely did not. I'm not Red or Lance.
"Never said you were. I'm just saying they're champions for a reason. You mentioned you want to battle competitively, right?" When Gold nodded, he continued. "So all I'm saying is you should probably toughen up your team a bit." When Gold started to write more down, he held up a hand. "Just hear me out," Bill said, cringing slightly at his choice of words. "Your aipom's pretty weak, right?"
he's improving.
"But are you willing to put in the work needed to get him up to competitive level?"
Gold rolled his eyes. of course I am. we're working crazy hard every day. Then he added some more to avoid giving Bill any wrong ideas. I never put them through more than they can take. I don't put their health and safety at risk.
"Okay, good," Bill said. "But what if they never get as strong as you want them to be?"
Gold didn't hide his scowl this time. they will.
"But what if they won't?" Bill insisted.
You know, Bill, I really thought I was going to like you, Gold thought. then I'll battle with them anyway. they love to battle.
"But what if you want to, say, be a champion someday, but your pokémon just aren't strong enough? What then?" Bill asked.
Gold shot him a contemptuous look. then I won't be champion.
Bill wasn't giving up yet. "Oh, come on," he said. Gold swore he was enjoying this. "If they're no use to you, why keep them around?"
That caused Gold to stop in his tracks. Was he being serious right now?! Was that all pokmon were to Bill? Just objects to be thrown away? He quickly wrote in all caps and shoved the notes in Bill's face. POKÉMON AREN'T TOOLS! the noted screamed.
"I didn't say—" Bill began, but Gold looked down to write again and didn't see what else he said. He took a minute to write down as many scathing things he could think of at the top of his head. Bill was surprisingly patient, and waited calmly for him to finish. After Gold was done writing, he ripped out the page and shoved the note in Bill's hands. He stepped back and crossed his arms. The note read:
You know what? You suck. You suck as a trainer. You suck as a human being. I feel sorry for Eevee and any other pokémon you have. My pokémon are my friends and if you don't like that, TOO BAD FOR YOU. I don't give a damn what you think, and I hope no one else does. If you thought you could go up to some kid and trick them into thinking your stupid opinions are any good, YOU PICKED THE WRONG GUY. You're stupid, you're vile, and you're the reason your parents split up. FIGHT ME BITCH.
Bill much to Gold's chagrin, smiled brilliantly. Then he started to laugh. When he looked at Gold, his eyes were sparkling. "This. . . this is wonderful!" he said. "Oh, Gold, you're the best! I'm so—wait, come back!"
Gold had begun to storm off to his pokémon, ready to tell them it was time to leave. Before he reached them, he felt something grab his arm, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. He automatically yanked his arm away and retreated several steps. He then realized it was just Bill, who had deemed it fit to follow him. The man in question held up his hands, as if to ward off an attack.
"Woah, woah, sorry," he said, looking genuinely contrite. "I just wanted to explain—"
Bill didn't get to finish his sentence, because he was suddenly bowled over by Quilava, who had decided to appear out of nowhere and tackle him to the ground.
Gold was momentarily stunned by this, but quickly grabbed Quilava and pulled her off the unfortunate target. Quilava! he said sharply. What's wrong with you?
Quilava glared at Gold. He tried to hurt you! she said, looking indignant. Let me at him! She tried to wriggle out of Gold's arms as Bill got to his feet.
Gold held onto her tightly as the other pokémon ran to the scene. He was just trying to get my attention, okay? he said. Nobody got hurt, so don't kill anyone.
Quilava finally stopped struggling, but still looked like she wanted to set something on fire. Then why'd you scream? she demanded.
What are you talking about? I didn't scream.
I'll have to agree with your trainer, said Eevee, coming to sit at Bill's feet. It was more of a gasping sound, really.
Aipom tugged at Gold's pant leg. He was staring at Gold with wide, confused eyes. What's going on? he asked fretfully. Can we leave now? He climbed up to Gold's shoulder and grabbed his neck in a tight embrace.
Yeah, in a minute. Gold decided he was going to wait to see what Bill had to say. Be an adult, Gold told himself, trying to think of what his mom would do in a situation like this. She would probably wait to hear the other person out, all while giving them a chilly look that warned them to watch what they said. So that's what he did, tapping his foot for added effect.
Bill took a deep breath. "Okay, all that probably looked pretty bad," he began. Gold didn't change his expression. "But I really wanted to see how you'd react. You see," he went on, "I've been talking to a lot of trainers lately. I've been looking around for people particularly interested in battling, like the ones traveling around and collecting badges."
Gold didn't really see where this was going. He made a "go on" gesture with his hand, wondering what the point of this was.
"The reason I've been doing this is because I'm not much of a battler myself. Most of the pokémon who live with me don't mind that; they just like being house pokémon. Except for Eevee here."
Something in Gold's mind clicked. Ah, he thought. You've been trainer-hunting.
Bill must have noticed Gold's change of attitude. "You see where I'm going here?" he asked, and Gold nodded, keeping a neutral expression. "I've been going around chatting up trainers, asking them questions to get a feel of what kind of people they are. Most of them were pretty casual trainers who weren't interested in competing in the big leagues. A lot of them were more interested in collected cute pokémon than doing anything else."
Gold nodded to show he was still paying attention, but he was pretty sure he had an idea of where Bill was going with this.
"And other trainers . . . well." Bill shook his head. "I said to them a lot of the same things I said to you, and some of them were actually thinking of following my advice! People actually thought I had the right idea! Just toss out their old pokémon and find better ones!"
Bill actually looked angry now, and Gold was tempted to take a step back. But then his expression softened. "But then, out of nowhere, you come along. You find my eevee—the whole getting lost thing was not part of my plan, let me tell you—and you actually try to help her find me!"
He's kind of acting like that's a big deal, Quilava observed, talking to no one in particular. Would most people just leave her stuck behind a vending machine? Gold gave a minute shrug in response.
"Then I find out that you're dedicated to both training and befriending you pokémon. This is beyond great!"
And you're beyond jaded if running into a trainer who cares about pokémon is such a big deal, Gold thought. Was Bill overly cynical, or was Gold more sheltered than he'd realized?
Gold returned his thoughts to the present just in time to catch Bill saying something about someone with a croconaw. "And then he just tells me to get off his case, and walks away! I guess I caught him in a bad mood." He shrugged. "But in any case, I have a question. Would you like to take Eevee with you on your travels?"
Gold, not really knowing what else to do, simply nodded.
Bill's smile faltered. "You . . . don't seem that surprised," he said confusedly.
Gold grabbed the notepad that had fallen to the ground at some point, and jotted down a quick message. you were kind of hinting at it the whole time you were explaining things.
"Oh, was I?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, could've gone worse, I guess."
This is really anticlimactic, said Eevee, looking a little disappointed. You're way too genre savvy.
Gold wasn't entirely sure how to react to that. Um, sorry?
"You heard what she said, didn't you?" asked Bill, and Gold nodded. "Don't worry," he assured him. "You'll get used to it."
Get used to what? Quilava asked. Having an emo pokémon? Oh, and welcome to the team, I guess.
Thanks. I hope we don't develop a rivalry, said Eevee, leaving Quilava looking more than a little baffled.
What about me? Aipom asked, speaking up for the first time in a while. Are we gonna be rivals?
No, probably not. We're not the same gender, Eevee said, as if that explained everything.
"Well," said Bill, "I guess I can just hand her off now." He passed an unfazed Eevee off to Gold, then pulled a pokéball from one of his pockets and handed it off to him as well. "I guess that's everything. Eevee, are you all right with all this?"
Yeah, this works, Eevee said. In fact, I'm thinking that I could even evolve into an espeon one day.
"Well, take all the time you need," said Bill. He gave Eevee a final pat to the head, then drew himself up to his full height. "You all take care," he said seriously. "Travel safe, and try to avoid getting into any trouble, all right? All right."
The last few minutes before Bill's departure were taken up by a rather businesslike monologue on the moves Eevee knew, her battling experience, and what food she ate. By the end of that, though, Bill seemed at a loss as to what to do next.
Quilava saved him the trouble. Race you to the end of the park! she said, and took off. Aipom immediately jumped off Gold's shoulder and ran after her.
Gold looked at Bill apologetically before placing Eevee on the grass. He made a sound that he hoped sounded something like "Bye," and ran after his pokémon. Eevee didn't even look back as she ran along with him.
Bill smiled wistfully as he watched them leave. "Goodbye, Eevee," he whispered into the wind. "Have fun."
OoOoOoOoO
While Gold was enjoying getting acquainted with his brand new pokémon, Chris was getting well acquainted . . . with the ground.
She was in Route 35 now, having spent only one night at Goldenrod City. Lyra, she knew, had gone off to the game corner in the city earlier that day, and was probably still there, having fun playing poker or whatever else they did in those stupid places.
Chris, meanwhile, was not having much fun. In fact, she was more than a little frustrated. It wasn't because she was tired, though she was. It wasn't because she had tripped over multiple rocks over the past half hour, though she had. It wasn't because she had sprained her ankle, though she'd probably done that too. No, it was none of that.
It was because the growlithe she'd been chasing for the past thirty minutes refused. To. Be. Caught.
Said growlithe was panting heavily after running around, trying to dodge Butterfree's barrage of attacks, and breaking out of nine ultra balls (yes, she'd been counting). The growlithe eyed her carefully as it bounced around the clearing in the woods they were in. It—a male, Chris guessed, judging from its slightly larger size—seemed to be having fun with them. He hadn't used any fire attacks against them, but he'd certainly knew how to roughhouse, and Butterfree's disheveled state was a testament to that. He barked loudly at them, daring them to keep chasing him.
Chris threw her tenth ultra ball, which just clipped the growlithe's back, but didn't draw him in. Chris cursed under her breath as she sprinted to scoop up the ball and try again. "Butterfree," she rasped out, "try to confuse him."
Butterfree flew towards the growlithe and sent a supersonic his way. The attack reached its mark, making growlithe trip and fall face-first onto the ground. He stumbled around drunkenly, trying to get his bearings, but only succeeded in running into a tree. Chris took this moment to throw the ball again. This time, it hit him directly in the face (it was an accident, Chris would later swear), and he was sucked in. The ball wiggled one, then twice.
Then he broke out, leaving the ball ruined and useless.
"Crap," she muttered under her breathe. "Butterfree, use sleep powder."
Her pokémon sent out a flurry of green powder at the canine, who managed to breath some in. He promptly collapsed in a heap.
This had better work, Chris thought, throwing her last ultra ball. If he escaped this one, that left Chris with a single pokéball.
And what do you know, he broke out again. He was already starting to wake up as Chris pulled the pokéball from her pocket. He just managed to jump away from it when she threw it, and by the time Chris had run and retrieved the ball again, he was fully awake.
"Free!" Butterfree screeched as she flew down at the growlithe. The fire-type, for the first time, aimed an ember at her pokémon, which Butterfree neatly dodged. The growlithe rose on his hind legs as he tried to snap at her, and Chris took this opportunity to fling the pokéball in his direction. It hit him directly in the chest, and he was drawn in. The ball wiggled once.
Then it stopped.
Butterfree trilled in delight, then grabbed the pokéball off the ground and brought it to her exhausted trainer.
"Good . . . job . . . Butterfree," she managed to say, drawing a quick breath between each word. She extended her hand, and Butterfree plopped the pokéball onto it. "Thanks. I swear, the only reason we caught him is because the ball hit him in the chest that time. Is that a thing? Do growlithe have places on their bodies where if you hit them, they're easier to catch?"
Butterfree, who had landed in front of her, could only answer with a short "free." Chris didn't know exactly what she'd said, but judging from the tone, Butterfree didn't seem to have any knowledge on the subject.
Chris nodded, finally catching her breath. "Guess I'll have to look that up," she muttered, then patted Butterfree on the head. "Good job, girl. Couldn't have done it without you."
Butterfree puffed up in pride, looking extremely pleased. Chris smiled for the first time that day and turned towards a trail she hoped would lead them to a larger path, and then the city. "Let's go." She walked slowly down the narrow trail as Butterfree floated gently behind her.
OoOoOoOoO
Hours later, Chris sat in front of a computer at a large library relatively close to a pokémon center. What started as a vague curiosity had turn into a strong interest as she searched the internet for any information regarding the hypothesis she had made back in Route 35. She tried searching up things like "do pokemon have spots that make them easier to catch," "places to hit pokmon to catch them," (which sounded a lot less abusive in Chris' head), and simply "places to throw pokeballs." None of the search results proved to be of any use. She had found sites detailing ways to locate numerous hot spots to find certain pokémon species and nesting places, various daycare centers, and weak spots on pokémon that would cause more damage when hit.
Chris sighed. She'd been hoping to be able to find something actually useful. She wondered if the information was rather obscure, and she simply hadn't looked. Though there was the distinct possibility that her hypothesis had no bearing, which would be rather disappointing, because that meant she had no useful pokémon-catching shortcuts.
She wondered if Professor Elm knew anything about this. Maybe she could ask? She naturally didn't have his email address, but maybe she could write a letter. She supposed it couldn't do any harm; Elm could simply ignore her message if he wanted to.
Heck, why not?
Chris opened up her email account to start a draft.
Dear Professor Elm,
This is Crystal Alma. You probably don't remember me, so allow me to explain: We met briefly a few months ago when I came to your lab to pick up a chikorita as my starter pokémon.
First I would like to thank you for giving me the privilege of receiving a pokémon from you. She has been doing very well over these past few months, and has since evolved into a bayleef.
But though I am and will always be grateful to you, giving you my thanks is not the only reason I have written this letter. I have witnessed an occurrence that I can only describe as interesting.
Today, I ran across a growlithe that I spent quite some time trying to catch. I managed to go through nearly a dozen ultra balls in my attempt to capture him. He broke out of every one of them, even once while he was asleep, which left me with only a regular pokéball left. When I threw it at him, it hit him in the chest. The pokéball only shook once before signaling a successful capture. The ultra balls I had used, I had only hit him in the side, head, and leg regions.
Which leads to my question: Does the place in which a pokémon is hit with a ball have any bearing on ease of capture? I found it curious that all my ultra balls had failed to capture the growlithe, but my pokéball had worked very well. I understand that it could easily be a coincidence, but it has left me quite fascinated. If you have any answers, I would greatly appreciate if you would share them.
Should you have the time and desire to reply, please feel free to contact me via my butterfree or my email address, which I shall supply below.
Kind regards,
Crystal Alma
Chris nodded to herself. Good enough for now. Once she had revised it and written it on decent stationary, she would have Butterfree carry it to the lab, assuming bug-type would be willing.
She checked the time on the computer, which told her it was nearly three o' clock. She wondered what Lyra had been up to all day—not in the game corner, she hoped.
Chris left the library and headed to the nearest pokémon-friendly park, where she and the rest of her team could get further acquainted with Growlithe. So far, he seemed like the friendly, playful sort. After all the trouble he had been while she'd been trying to catch him, Chris had absolutely no problem with this.
This day's been going well, she thought. Hopefully tomorrow would go just as well. Maybe even better. Chris wasn't the optimistic sort, but maybe she would let herself be more positive, just for a while.
The next day is also going to go well, she told herself. Heck, now that I can rest a bit from the growlithe chase, it's going to be great! Tomorrow will be better!
Unfortunately for Chris, tomorrow would not be better. Not for her. Not for Lyra. Not for Gold, not for anyone in the great city of Goldenrod.
OoOoOoOoO
A/N Well, that happened. I hoped everyone liked this chapter, at least a little bit.
So, some important questions. First of all, what does everyone think about Eevee so far? Like her? Hate her? Oh, and to anyone who got the movies references, you're awesome.
To anyone who thinks Chris' letter sounds unprofessional or whatever, please remember that she is only fifteen. But hey, if you think it's a serious issue that I should address, let me know and I'll try to fix it. :)
And like I said, more material will be coming out soon. There's this one particular part in the next chapter with Lyra that I especially like, and hopefully you will to.
Questions, comments, criticisms? Write them in the review box below! Have a lovely day, ladies and gents!
~Geek