9 - Drinking Buddies

"So tell me, how was Accelgor able to use both Bug Buzz and Trick with a Choice Scarf on its head?"

Choice Scarf is a double-edged weapon- it alters the brain's neuro-patterns, repurposing prefrontal lobe matter to functions usually reserved for the cerebellum. I.E., it forces the wearer to "think harder" about how to move their bodies faster. This comes at the expense of cognitive function, of course. Their movepool is reduced to the first command given upon entry into the field. In other words, Keido's Accelgor shouldn't be using two or more moves while Scarfed like it did during our match.

"I thought it was obvious. Everyone on my team knows Trick, ya lunk."

Well damn. I'm an idiot. If I had even suspected that from the start the outcome of our match wouldn't have been remotely close.

"What quack. I shoulda won. Shoulda coulda won," Keido moaned, again, for the fifth time (I was counting).

"So you understand why you loss."

"Right, you're going to have to explain that to me, bub, because I have no clue what went on there. I mean… I saw it, but I don't believe it."

We sat at the bar side-by-side skimming pricey beers and watching a late-night basketball game. No Pokémon matches to follow, battling season wasn't until late spring. The place was mostly empty, just a few regulars who gave us no mind. The tender had nodded to us as we entered, lifting an eyebrow at Keido, who was new. As for me, I had become a semi-regular, worthy of no special attention. I don't believe he even knows who I really am.

"Why do you think I kept belaboring you on building a counter team? That wasn't for my benefit!" I was lecturing Keido's on his battling philosophy at the moment.

"It's only way I was ever gonna beat you, dirtbag!" Keido protested. "You think I was gonna let you roll me over, did ya?" Pardon him, he gets a little redneck when he's drunk. Must come from his mother, she was a farmer's girl.

"Hey, I know you think I'm cruel, but I've been trying to train you to be a good trainer. You really want to settle on taking potshots in hopes of scoring a win over me?"

"Hell yeah!"

"You're terrific. Bona fide."

"And you're a block of concrete, for all yer originality!"

I sighed. The message is competing with alcohol for Keido brain-space. And it's losing.

"Okay, okay, listen closely, " I told him, holding his drinking arm down. "You are NEVER going to beat me unless you ditch the gimmicks!"

"But I'm a gimmick trainer! Take that away and I'm a… what, a bitchy-stall team! Bah!" He resisted and managed to bring his glass to his chin, sloshing maybe a third of a gulp into his mouth and the remainder dripped down his neck.

"See, that's not true. You can use strategy and tactics, but it comes down to basics, every time!" I took a deep breath. Time to break it down for him carefully, and pray for some of it to sink in. "A great trainer, such as myself, doesn't get the luxury to adapt to every kip and capper who thinks they're better than you. We can't rely on cheap tactics, because gimmicks' best strength is their surprise factor. But you become as famous as me, and your gimmicks will be found out way ahead of time, and people will counter-counter you."

"God, you just said a lot of stuff I didn't want to hear."

I backhanded his cheek, just hard enough to get his attention. "Hey, I don't need you sober, but I don't want you drunk either. The point being, to be the best, you need each and every Pokémon you bring to battle to be fundamentally stronger than anything they're likely OR unlikely to face. You have got to build redundancies in type coverage, defenses, and tactics. You have to prepare for EVERYTHING conceivable, because that's what they're going to throw at you. And when you meet an opponent who does that, and does it well, your gimmicks won't work unless your Pokémon are stronger and better disciplined. You got that?"

"So, if I care to condense that Tauros-shit down, is that sneak-attacks don't work because you're expecting them, and I should just train my ass off and somehow I'll magically beat your monstrous bastards."

"See, you're looking at it the whole wrong way," I protested.

"I don't care about no tournaments! I just want a 'W' against you in the next decade! Don't tell me I didn't come close!"

"You did come close, and guess what! It's because I'm slacking on training, and you haven't, so the gap has closed. Keep training your Pokémon, you'll pass me up."

"I don't wanna pass you up when you're slacking! I want to beat you at your prime, ducky!"

I think he just called me 'ducky'. Did he seriously just call me that? Okay, he can pay for his next beer on his own. I think I might want some of my own, or something stronger.

"Hey, can I get a glass of scotch? Whatever's on tap is fine," I signaled to the bartender.

"Same here," Keido said.

"Oka-"

"Scratch his request," I interjected. "I'm not paying to scotch this farmboy up until he's heard all my woeful shortcomings."

"City-prick."

"Seriously," I said, turning to him directly, "start thinking about how to be a better trainer, period. I mean, it's not like you didn't blitz the Unovan tournament that one year, you're certainly capable."

"I don't need more scoldin from you, oh master-sama PokeGod. Had I half of what you've got, maybe I wouldn't need to badger for a rematch each year," he said bitterly. "Fack, it's the one thing that gets my hopes up for this miserable world, and you kill that hope each and every time, ducky."

There he goes with that 'ducky' again. The nerve! Wait, did he just insult my accomplishments? He did not!

"You don't do jack diddly to put yourself into a position to earn a tenth of what I've got!" There's something that can rile me up, even from Keido's expected shit, and that's insinuating that it wasn't damn hard work getting to where I've gotten in life. I didn't build my legacy with luck and entitlement, damn it!

"Sorry, man, but you think you're the only one working his butt off?" Keido said.

"I realize everyone works and works and works till their asses fall off, but just because that isn't the real key to success doesn't mean the missing ingredient is some random-biased horsepie crap like 'luck'."

"If only."

"Stop being jealous. You want to be successful? Rich? I hope you like money, lots and lots of money, because that's all you'd be doing if you had my job. And I mean, LOTS. Because you'll be up to your bushy eyebrows in paperwork and bills and ledgers and excel spreadsheets. Infinite, endless digits representing money your responsible for but don't actually own. Oh, yeah, guess what? You don't even get the pleasure of deciding how to spend it, other people just ask for it. Imagine having three hundred different greedy banks asking for their loan payments, and every five minutes another sleazy acquaintance comes asking for a loan you know they're never going to repay. That's my job. Big whoopity-do! You take it." I ended my tirade, arms thrown into the air.

"No, way, my job is way cooler. I just wish I could, you know, TALK about my job with someone, without worrying its some sort of national security leak. It's like, 'Hey, I'm going to train some morons how to track down digitized smugglers; oh, that's secret? Woops, jail fer you!' No recognition! Toilet wages! Taken for granted by everyone, even our own bosses. Like, a little medal would be nice! A thank you? No! Nothing!"

"That's your big worry?! Bwahwhwhahaha!" I began laughing and patting the moping grown-man across the back.

His tangential insight into his own workplace problems cracked me up, and the resulting gaiety diffused our argument nicely.

"Next year, bud. I'll get some nice attention focused on your department. And maybe you'll get lucky and get that Bug Bite off first or some other luck-hax. I'm too old to keep up with you forever."

"We're getting old together. By the way, you really think you'll be in your job in a year?" he asked.

"Course I will! Why wouldn't I?"

"Cuz', you just brought me here and made it sound like you were unhappy. I'm guessing you want to quit."

…

A limping pause lilted off into silence.

Finally, Keido ventured to break it.

"Am I right?"

"I…" Well, this is what you wanted to discuss, wasn't it Steven?

"Hey, I mean, you just made it sound like the job is boring you. I was just inferring. Unless that was exaggeration?"

"No, you're wrong… and you're right," I admitted. "Job itself is okay. I mean, I can hate it at times, but I love things I hate. You know me. It's a big game, something to be beaten. I thrive in this kind of situation."

"Then what's the big deal? I know something's off."

Come all this way, and I can't really admit it to him. Not easily.

Could I come out with it?

Ugh.

C'mon, Mr. Stone, you're drunk enough for this!

"It's the time I have to put in. It's too much."

"What, the hours? That never bothered you before! You were always a work-a-holic!"

"Yeah, well, that was before I got married," I said, ending on a downbeat.

"Oh…" Any lingering looks of desolation and indignation disappeared from Keido's face. His eyes softened, and his arm came up to grab mine.

"I worry for you, Stone. If I had a Mrs. Takame, I wouldn't hesitate doing anything for her. Ditch my job, no problem."

"It's more complicated than that."

"It's a weekend, I got time." He leaned in forward to listen.

Oh Arceus.

"I have to work six days a week, and I'm gone every single morning and most nights, like tonight. I'm lucky if we can hitch up for lunch once a week. No vacations, no dates, no get-togethers. You think this is how newly-weds are supposed to act? Barely seeing each other? I have no idea what she's thinking, how she's taking it. I feel like she's putting on a mask every time I go home, because she doesn't want to distract me, like she knows she's supposed to be a good supportive wife. Well that, and…" I stopped short. Keido took notice and raised his eyebrows.

"She wants a baby," I let out. Keido winced at the mention of offspring. Every man knows that feeling.

"She wants a kid and I feel like she's punting every other issue down the road in order to get on my good side on this kid issue."

"And? How do you feel about it?" Keido asked.

"I'm taking teclazone."

"Fuck, Steven!" He shook his head and leaned back. "Does she know?"

"No."

"Fuck, man, pardon my language, but that is messed up. That's divorce material waiting to happen. What the hell are you thinking?"

"I don't know what the hell I'm thinking. I don't want to think about having to raise a kid, thus the contraceptives."

"Listen," Keido said emphatically. "This is something you should have gone over before giving her a rock. It's kind of a big deal. Now, if you don't want any heirs, that's fine by me, but to her, that could be-"

"That's just it! I DO want little Stones pitter-pattering round the place!" I divulged. "I would LOVE to have kids. I just… I can't. Not now."

"Why the hell not?"

"The job."

"Hogwash. Do it. Your kids will forgive you when they're swimming in pools of money."

"No! What I will not, what I refuse to do is be a work-addict while my children grow up without me. As long as I'm booking these twelve-hour days, I don't want kids."

"But you've got a woman with the baby-craze. She's going to find out, eventually. She'll pester you for a fertility doctor visit."

"I know, damn it, I know!" I held my face in my hands, trying to hold down the welling tears and misery.

My wife, my dear Cynthia, has been insisting on non-recreational intercourse every night now. She just started doing all kinds of crazy in-depth research and monitoring her fertility cycle. It won't be two months now before she sniffs something's up. I can't imagine what she'll do when she finds out.

Her desire for a child has been so strong. What time I do get with her, I notice it, all the time, in the subtle ways women communicate. The family-fun magazines. Her web searches through the pages of popular family theme-parks. Popular baby-names forums. Her smile every time little rugrats cross the park path in front of us slurping ice cream cones. Chit-chat about Pokémon journeys, and Starter Pokémon. Sizing up the study next to our bedroom, as if planning a repurposing of the room. She might have mumbled "pink paint" when I passed by.

It means so much to her. I'm inclined to agree. It would be wonderful.

Of all the challenges I've taken, all the journeys and adventures, the simplest, most universal aspiration of man- to be a father- was right before me… and yet, I was refusing it.

Why?

Keido put it even more succinctly:

"You have a 10/10 bombshell who wants to bear your child. What the hell is wrong with you man?!"

"I don't know."

"Is she..." he paused for faux delicacy, "Is she bad in bed?"

"WHAT?!" I took a wild look at my drinking partner. "How dare you! I would like to decisively inform you that she is to the bedroom as I am to the Pokémon World Tournament!"

"Okay, sorry, just had to ask."

We stared each other down, before bursting into another giggling match.

"You're the best," I told him.

"Nah, I'm second best, at best. You are numero uno in the world, dude."

"Yeah… I just, cannot see myself being the father she expects me to be while I'm shouldering the whole damn world's problems."

"Then quit," he insisted.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because I said so. Because… because I can't just leave."

"Don't give me any doofus reason like 'I have unfinished business' here. You already did what you were really needed for in the first month, overturning all of Lance's idiot decisions. Someone else can shoulder that burden."

"Really? No. It's not a possibility," I whined.

"Yeah, it is. Now tell me what you came here to cry over and stop pussyfooting around about it."

"I can't quit. I won't hand the Pokémon League over to Brach or one of his cronies. I won't. He'll ruin everything I've worked for. Even if it's not as bad as the Lance years, it'll be close enough, if I let him get back in charge."

WHACK.

"I told you to stop pussyfooting. Why are you popping 2k a glass while crying to me? You're not such a Magikarp that you'd flop over to Gabe's BS like that! What's the real reason you and I are here?" Keido stared me down, the full fury of his conscience awakened.

I had the… presence of mind to look him in the eye, but could say nothing.

Keido squinted, and then sighed.

"It's the championship, isn't it?"

I nodded.

"It's not your fault."

My gaze returned to the liquid amber resting in the half-drained glass before me.

"We've been over this- I don't know, one-thousand times. It's not your damn fault. It was Forester's and Forester's alone."

"It was bound to be someone."

"It was a freak of nature. A breakdown of security caused by- and trust me, it was this- an accident."

"It was not an accident!"

I suddenly, angrily pounded my fist into the table.

"You seriously, honestly believe I, personally, had no place in that affair?"

"Don't mix guilt and your ego, Stone," Keido warned.

"2047 straight, perfect victories!" I exclaimed. "Two-thousand! Two-thousand damn it! No losses! Not one, not anywhere on that record! Not any bigshot in any tournament, or any lucky-puck in any pokecenter board room. None!"

"Yes, I get it. You're historical. Legendary, mythical, the greatest of all time, forever, but-"

"-you can't expect me to believe," I cut him off, "that my existence had nothing to do with that environment, that culture of brinksmanship? Forester was not a bad person, not an evil person. Maybe stupid, maybe mean, but not evil. What drove him to raise such a dangerous creature as that Aerodactyl? Me. The monolith that was Steven Stone, the trainer-god, the one-who-could-not-be-beat! I started it. I jumped the boundary, I made it okay to ignore restraint and do anything, ANYTHING, to train Pokémon to a higher level and win at any cost. If not Grey, there was bound to be somebody stupid enough to think that "murderous, out of control, rage-machine, disaster-waiting-to-happen" was an acceptable cost. If it meant putting one 'L' into that perfect 2047-0-0, it was worth it. And Grey was that idiot."

I took my glass and chugged the rest of the scotch down at once.

"Haaaaa! 124 humans, dead. 15 Pokémon, dead. Because of a culture that was bound to produce at least one psychopathic Pokémon rampaging through a crowded arena. A culture I helped create."

"You're not the center of the world," Keido said softly.

"Am I not?" I rose to my feet, raised my hands to the air and peered around, shouting aloud, "Am I not the center of the world? Am I not the most powerful human being in the world?! The buck stops here, people, right here, at my feet!"

The seven other people in the tavern turned their heads to look at the spectacle. I think the bar tender just realized who exactly I was, because he was staring at me with unblinking eyes and ignoring the open cash register in front of him.

"Calm down. Sit down," Keido urged. I obeyed, the outburst spending my last bit of emotional energy.

"I made a promise, Keido. I made two promises, and I'm just now figuring out they're mutually exclusive. I vowed to be a loving husband, and I vowed to never let a nightmare like that happen again. I just don't know how I can do that and keep my marriage together."

"Easy there, easy there."

Keido tried showing me as much comfort and affection as the man-code allowed. It was 10:20, and then another 50 minutes passed by, mainly spent in aimless, pointless commiseration on my part, and fatherly cooing on Keido's. He tried turning the conversation towards himself in a vain attempt to distract. I became privy to all sorts of Top Secret details of Project CRADLE, but cared nothing for what he said.

The alcohol's immediate effects slowly wore off.

"Should I quit?" I asked aloud, as we stumbled through the bar and on our way out.

"Your job?"

"Yeah, what would you do?"

"It's not about what I would do, Steven," he said.

"Wife and kids, or job and duty?" I postulated. "That, my good fellow, is the ten billion pokédollar question.

"Hey, I can't be too helpful. You know my primary woe."

"I know, I know."

While I had struck gold in catching Cynthia, Keido had been stuck in romantic limbo ever since college. A string of a dozen relationships ending shortly in failure and heartbreak; it seemed his lot in life was to suffer beneath the heels of the opposite sex.

"You'd give this up in a heartbeat."

"Probably. It's painful. But you know what? I see you and how much of a wreck you are, and I think we, as men, are destined to suffer. Grass is greener, yeah?"

"I supp- oh, there's an idea."

"Hmm?" Keido's eyes shot towards me.

"Here." I unhitched myself from Keido's support.

"It's such a stupid idea. I mean, you're good on the front end, when it comes to girls, right?"

Keido nodded in affirmation.

"Yeah. Usually takes about three weeks for things to blow up."

"Good. I know a young lady who goes for our type. Name's Carol. I'm gonna give you a convention I'm sending her to soon; it's a General Management and Contractors convention, so you should be able to hoc it into your schedule. Find her and make friendly."

"Really? Who is this girl?"

"Her name's Carol Valiér," I pulled out my phone and brought up a picture. "Her, to my left."

"Oh. She's cute."

I sent Keido a text with the convention details. This is a hobby I haven't practiced since college: playing matchmaker. It was a quaint kind of comfort; even when I was (at the time) bereft of romantic opportunities, there was some consolation in hitching others up and helping them find happiness. Hopefully, maybe some magic will work out between my latest victims. An added bonus would be diverting Carol's broken heart and helping her focus on work.

"Thanks. But, for yourself… are you going to be alright with your lady?"

"I don't know."

We exited the bar, facing the dark streets of Indigo Plateau. Keido had driven us here, and was parked not too far out. I had already buzzed Wilkins to come pick me up. Keido opted to wait until my driver arrived before departing himself.

"I've thought of something," he said at length.

"Yeah?"

"Now I hope I'm not reading too much into your relationship, but… I think you should stay. Make it work. Maybe reconsider the idea of being a working father. The runts stay mindless babies for a few years anyways."

"But-"

He held up a hand.

"The reason being, is that, I think I know Cynthia's type. She's a strong girl and she expects her man to be strong too. She didn't say "I do" to a wimp, she fell in love with the Maxis Magazine two-time Man-of-the-Year. She loves you for who you are; and this issue, this guilt? That was around before you even met her. If you truly, truly think it's your duty to safeguard the League, then that's something special, something cool about you that she loves, and she will respect it."

"Huh."

I don't know if it's the truth, or if it's just a novel spin on the facts.

"So, keep chugging until you find someone you can trust to hand the League off to."

"That might take a long while. Maybe forever. Probably… no less than ten years, while I wait for Gabe to croak."

"Eh, I don't know the upper echelon politics that well. I'm just saying-" and here, he brought his reassuring hand to my shoulder. "-do what you believe in. Never forget what you believe in. Everything else will turn out okay."

"Huh."

How is it that the most cliché advice always sounds so profound? Must be the alcohol.

"Don't drink and drive!"

"I only had the three, and that was more than an hour ago."

"Three? That's a lot."

"I take my beer way better than you, goldilocks lily-belly."

"Oh now you're asking for it."

I raised my fist, but the sober(er) man dodged away.

"Hey, your ride's here. I'm in Indigo for a couple weeks, so I guess we can hook a few more times. See ya."

"See ya."

As Wilkins headlights shone out on us and Keido turned to depart, I echoed his words of advice to myself.

"Do what I believe in, huh…"

Six Months Ago

October 1st, 2008

Redwood City, Castor Region

Pokémon League Central Headquarters

Pokémon HQ reached 81 stories above me, looming over the small crowd like a stern parent over an infant. It was a modern monolith of chrome and glass, reflecting the other, shorter skyscrapers in its façade. Whiffs of low-lying clouds curled around the antennae tower, such was its height. The building unnerved me. Mankind was not meant to build such things; it was an affront to gravity.

Brach waddled up beside me, caught me staring up at the imperious skyscraper, and chuckled. "Hoenn doesn't have anything like it, do they? Well I hope you get used to it. This'll be your workplace."

"I don't plan on staying in one place very long." Little did Gabriel Brach suspect how annoying my hands-on management approach would be to him.

"Well, I hope it's not fear of heights that keeps you away. It's not like the sub-headquarters are squat huts either."

Actually, I do have a nagging fear of heights, a carry-over of a childhood phobia.

'Mommy, I don't wanna ride the roller-coaster! I don't wanna! Nooo!'

Echoes of childhood.

"I find it interesting that your squat self prefers these towers. What would you do without elevators?" I retorted.

Brach laughed and patted my back. "I see we're going to get along splendidly. Now go make friendly with the crowd. You've got a job to do."

He's right.

Before a podium set on the steps of HQ, a crowd of business dignitaries, reporters, television crews, and politicians had been gathered and cordoned off. Behind them, a few dozen Pokémon fans and unknowing bystanders gathered loosely around, like electrons floating around an atom. Their number was less than I expected and hoped for. Alas, it goes to show how badly mangled the League's reputation was.

An hour ago I had been sworn in as the new CEO of the Pokémon League. This would be my first press conference in that capacity. Considering the low esteem of our League (latest approval rating: 1.5%), it's no wonder the fans and trainers had no enthusiasm for a changing-of-the-guard. The corporate and political bigwigs would be following this carefully, but I don't care about their opinions. I needed to make an impression on the ones who mattered, the trainers.

This speech would be important.

"Hello."

The crowd stiffened, listening intently.

"First, I want to say that I am thankful to the Pokémon League Board of Trustees for the opportunity to helm the League. It has been my dream to be able to impact the world of Pokémon in a positive way, and now that I am in a position to maximize that goal, I promise to do everything in my power to improve the League. I'd like to thank Gabriel Brach for his recommendation to this position. And, I'd also like to thank my wife (it's still funny, even two weeks on now, how new and strange the 'wife' word is to me) for her love and support."

Cynthia wasn't actually present, as she had been visiting her parents. She should be in the air and on her way right now. It was fine, I thought, we'd have plenty of time to celebrate at the dinner tonight.

"Now…" I stepped around the podium, and began walking towards the audience. "Now we have the obligatory speech out of the way, I want to talk about something. About me, about the League, about the way we do things." Each word was punctuated by a heavy footstep upon the marble. I came to a stop at the bottom, and took a seat on the cold stone. The audience looked at me with interested, nervous eyes, wondering what stunt I was preparing.

"And not just the way the League's been acting recently. No, for all its existence. A fundamental way of thinking that's been hurting our relationship with the ones we care for."

A large, upturned cardboard box had been set at the bottom of the steps. The reporters had been whispering to themselves since before the speech about what might lie beneath it. I now picked it up and tossed it away, revealing the contents lying on the ground. The crowd inhaled sharply.

"Don't gasp," I cautioned. "Don't panic. It's unloaded." I picked up the gun by the barrel, unlatched it, and showed the empty chamber to the nearest spectators. I then set the weapon down beside the other objects- an anvil, a pair of safety glasses, and a sledgehammer.

"You thought I was going to fire it, didn't you?"

A nervous chuckle made its way through the audience.

"What we have here is an assumption. Assumptions are dangerous things, you know. You see a gun, you react like you just did, with fear and anxiety. You assume guns are dangerous."

I let out one of my pokeballs, a tiny Pokémon, the tiniest, actually, a Joltik. The thing looked absolutely harmless, even adorable. The younger women of the crowd let out silent cooing at the sight of the electric tick.

"You see a Pokémon, and you assume it's safe, tame, and cute. Aren't you, you little bugger?" I scratched the little fellow on the noggin, then stood straight to face the crowd. My smile morphed ominously into a frown.

"105 people died last year from allergic reactions to Joltik bites."

I motioned towards the gun with one hand, and the Joltik on the other.

"What's the difference?" I asked. No one answered. They had been expecting a trump speech, not an active lecture; no one was about to make a fool of themselves by answering a rhetorical question. "What's the difference?!" I repeated, hoping some stupid soul would actually answer.

"…"

It's no use. I have to explain it to them.

"The answer, is that one represents the power of Pokémon, and the other represents the power of Man, and the attitudes we hold towards each. The assumptions we make towards each."

"We assume that humans and Pokémon are fundamentally different entities. In some ways, that is true. Human DNA is not found in the Mew DNA sequence, something we only share with insects, bacteria, plants, and other lower life-forms. Humans do not evolve. Humans are squishier, slower, humans cannot manipulate the elements like Pokémon do. We, as a species, are strangely underequipped for survival compared to our Pokémon."

I shrugged.

"Why do humans rule the world, then?" I yelled out. No one, cowards that they were, ventured an answer, still.

"Hmm? Why do humans rule the world? By all rights, we're weak, and Pokémon are strong. They are big, and scary, and can breath fire and ice, and there are more of them than us. So how is that the weakest species on the planet came to dominance? Because we're smarter?"

I tapped the gun.

"Brains. We developed civilization. We built power-plants, and cities, and roads, and discovered medicine and the laws of physics. We created pokeballs and the PC network to help us capture and control Pokémon. And when all else failed…" I tapped the gun again. "We created weapons. Guns, deadlier than any Pokémon attack. And so we have our guns, and we assume Pokémon are weak in comparison; and we have our pokeballs, and assume Pokémon are subservient. For all our professed love of each other and the bonds of partnership, none of that matters when crisis strikes and our base instincts take over."

"For the truth is, we've been treating Pokémon with fear. Yes, fear." I could see the faces of the gathered crowd contort. What I was saying was striking a nerve.

"We're afraid of them. Deep down we still remember the time when our ancestors huddled in their huts and looked with fear upon the strange, dangerous animals lurking in the tall grass. Today we caution our children against walking into the wilds. We make sure they're mature and are armed with pokeballs before venturing out. We regulate and evaluate and shield our Pokémon matches, because we are afraid of one psychopathic Pokémon breaking loose and starting a bloodbath. We look at our Pokémon and see, beneath the veneer of friendship, a monster."

"So we suppress them and control them. We catch them and force them to obey us. We hope they cooperate with us because of a bond, but that bond is never without the failsafe of a pokeball at hand. And, when things do get out of hand and blows come to blows, we use our guns and our bombs and our shells to kill them. It's our world because we can kill Pokémon, simple as that."

I sighed.

"It's sad. We live in a mockery of peace, where Pokémon live as slaves and most are happy to live as slaves." I reached to my belt and took another pokeball. A moment later Metagross appeared beside me.

"Metagross." It stood there, idly, completely unfazed by the situation. To think, a behemoth that could run rampant through the crowd, crushing them beneath its metal limbs, completely docile.

"I can let a monster like this out, and no one bats an eye. We all assume we are safe. Not because Metagross is my friend, but because my pokeball could trap it the instant it tries to do something dangerous."

I held my pokeball aloft.

"You all, humanity, say that our relationship with Pokémon is built on friendship, companionship, and love. We work together towards mutual goals. But that's a lie. Our relationship is built on fear and control, and friendship only comes secondary. This fact is hidden; it only becomes evident during times of crisis. We can go day-to-day happy-as-can-be, but when violence erupts, our true nature comes out."

I picked myself off the ground, and then I picked up the rifle and held it aloft.

"This rifle, this very rifle, was the one used to kill Grey Forester's Aerodactyl that one fateful day. I was there, I saw the guard fire it, I saw the Aerodactyl die. I'm not saying it wasn't the right thing to do- a moment before, I saw that Aerodactyl kill 124 humans and 15 Pokémon. But I have to ask- why? Why did it come to that? Why did we have a murderous, rampaging Pokémon on our hands, and why did we have to resort to a deadly instrument to contain it?"

I began pacing the steps. The reporters, hanging off my every word, bustled to and fro, like a Meowth chasing a laser dot. The business dignitaries hung back, unsure of the tone this new CEO was taking and not wanting to get caught up in the craziness.

"What's even more illustrative, I think, is what came after. Lance, my predecessor, was appointed. And, with the general public's blessing, he began a campaign to essentially suppress Pokémon, to the point of oppression. Registration, restrictions, you know the deal."

"Did no one stop and say, 'Hey, this is kind of immoral?' No, not many. Most people were happy, for a time, to let Pokémon be treated like caged animals. Not until their own boredom and unrest did they start protesting. No concern for the Pokémon themselves. They were just tools. Toys for entertainment, wild animals that needed to be tamed."

"So I say again, our relationship is built on fear and control. Our relationship is underwritten-" I shook the gun, "-by violence. Is this what we want to become? Is this what we want our relationship with Pokémon to be?"

"I want to believe that Humans and Pokémon are friends! I want to believe that we have each other's best interest at heart! And I want to strive for a world where we don't need guns to feel safe around our own Pokémon!" I set the weapon carefully down upon the anvil.

"Creating fear and mistrust? Treating them like tools? Letting the Pokémon be just another instrument of negative feelings? I promise you, if we treat them like dangerous monsters, they will become dangerous monsters. And then we will have more massacres like the World Tournament. And then we will kill more Pokémon, and subjugate the remainder even more harshly. It will beget a cycle we will not recover from, until the stronger side has completely wiped out the other. And we, as humans, with our guns and artillery and our atomic-bombs, are certainly the stronger side. So imagine the sad, miserable world where Pokémon are no longer and humanity weeps to itself in its utter loneliness."

I picked up the sledgehammer and donned the safety glasses.

"That is not the world I want to live in! I do not want to live by real-politik, by a survival-of-the-fittest mentality that has us 'befriending' Pokémon at the end of a gun barrel! This-"

I brought the sledgehammer over my head and smashing downwards. There was a clash and sparks, and the rifle burst into a dozen mangled fragments. The crowd reared back, like a mass of suddenly-disturbed Butterfrees. They had really not expected such an outburst from me.

"-THIS IS NOT WHAT OUR RELATIONSHIP IS SUPPOSED TO BE!"

I tossed the sledgehammer aside, chest heaving from the exertion and adrenaline.

"I was brought into this job to shore up the League's reputation. But I have other ideas. I want to end this culture of disrespect. I want to create a society where people feel safe because Pokémon are our friends and protectors. Where we can trust our Pokémon in the same way a child trusts their parent: Implicitly. Unreservedly. Unconditionally. No more fear. No more violence."

"Love is not a word you guys take seriously. I know that. Love is not concrete. Love is not a business strategy. Love doesn't have a number, and love cannot be counted nor directed nor controlled. But I love my Metagross and would trust my life to it." I leaned down upon my steel behemoth. It responded by humming ever so lightly.

"Without love, what do you have left to guarantee our safety?" I kicked a scrap of the rifle into the audience's feet. "Murder," I sneered.

"So if you'll excuse me, I'll be having lunch now. Feel free to join me in the press room in 45 minutes, where I'll take questions and provide specific details on what my administration plans to do."

The reporters jumped to life, attempting to get one last word out of me before I left. Ignoring them, I stormed back into the headquarters.

Present Day

March 27th, 2009

Keido wonders what I believe in, huh? I thought I made that explicitly clear six months ago, when I took this job.

Pokémon are companions, with feelings and aspirations. They should be treated with love and respect. Our relationship is based on trust. We need to avoid, at all costs, a relationship of fear and control. That can only end badly, for all species.

That's what Grey Forester taught me. A trainer who cared more for winning than for the respect of his own Pokémon. Aerodactyl had been treated with contempt when it could not meet Mr. Forester's standards. It grew to resent and hate its trainer, and it grew to believe that power was all that mattered in this world. That combination of anger and hatred, power and reckless competitiveness, heightened by the stress of a major battle, was what drove Aerodactyl into a berserk rage.

If we, all of us, and especially me, had put our battling into context, those 139 living beings would not have died that day. We forgot that it was just a game, a competition that was supposed to replace violent conflict, not create it. Pokémon battling had begun when early humans and Pokémon began befriending each other. Our ancestors learned that we didn't have to fear those wild and dangerous creatures hiding in the tall grass. Our anger and fear could be assuaged by cooperation; that lethal clashes could be replaced by harmless battles. Somewhere along the way, we forgot that and began reverting to our old, primordial, barbarian selves.

We need to get back to that loving connection between us and Pokémon.

This is what I believed in. And until I had drilled that belief into every nook, cranny, cranium, and heart of the Pokémon League, I couldn't quit. Even if I lost Cynthia because of it, even if it kills me; I need to see this through. The horrors of that one day haunt me still; to let it happen again would end me.

Wilkins rounded the familiar curve on the forested hillside. The lights of the palatial house came into view, shining between tree branches. It was late, 11:32, but the fact that the lights were on meant Cynthia was still up.

I sighed.

Every time I remind myself what I believe in, reality comes crawling out of the murk to claw at my heart. What I want and what I really want are two different things, and I still don't know how I'm going to survive trying to accommodate both of them.

I thanked Wilkins and got out. The place was quiet, gently so, the only sound the rustle of pine needles in the wind. The side entrance was unlocked, the inner door already opened and inviting me inside.

"I'm home," I called aloud, tiredly.