Chapter 2—The Course is Set

The first step was to remove or deactivate the tracking chips in Spark and Jolt. Tristan sat in the monstrous library in Deme's mansion home alone with notepad and pencil in hand. There were several ways to remove the chips, and several ways to deactivate them. Given the fact the Deme had a new game to play, deactivating the chips for now should do; removing them would require putting the Raichu under general anesthesia.

Crossing off the section for ways to remove the chips, he set to scribbling down ways to deactivate them.

1--I could hack into the police's system and try to locate the list of active chips. Once I know the numbers Spark and Jolt are marked with, I would be able to hack further and deactivate them. Risk Level: High. Cons: The cops would be much faster to catch on and the chance of them reactivating the chips would be high. Pros: We stay away from law enforcement, and have the advantage of location to begin the capture process of Mew.

2--We could find a prison where the cops keep the manual deactivators. We could then use the device while in the prison, or flee with it and use it later. The latter would be preferable, in case the chips are re-activated. Risk Level: High. Cons: If caught, the whole plan, including later parts, are blown sky high. We're right there near the prison. Pros: Deme will love the chase and hold-up. We could conceivably set up a diversion for the cops; convince them that they have serial robbers on their hands or something, and that would make it easier for us to maneuver around.

3--We could use one of those phone-voice-disguisers, assume the role of an admin and convince someone with the access codes to deactivate the chips. It would be a long time before they knew what was happening. Risk Level: Low. Cons: we don't know if it will work or not; no guarantee, no proof. Pros: longer time before they figure it out, don't have to go near a prison, still advantage of location to begin the Mew search.

He couldn't come up with anything else at moment. He was a brilliant writer by nature, but for the past few weeks, he'd been suffering from a writer's block. It had ruined his amazing pace of eighteen pages a day on his work-in-progress, banished his ideas and left him—and his hero and heroine—in a bind. It took creativity to continue with something big.

Maybe at the very least another wild, illegal adventure would break this dam. It sure as hell couldn't hurt him, as often as he'd been in prison already. If his parents were still alive, they'd probably disown him.

Blanking his mind, he let is soul drift randomly, erasing worries and conflict, becoming one with the modern world around him, finding peace. His emotions always ran wild when he thought about his parents. They'd tried their best, even though to him, their best wasn't what he wanted. What he'd needed. They'd been strictly religious folk; his father had been an arch priest. He'd been high and mighty, and humble at the same time. He'd never had his father to himself—always, he belonged to the church—and whenever Tris had asked a question, he'd gotten the stereo-typical reply, along the lines of "God will provide." He'd grown sick and disgusted with his father's utter lack of vocabulary and ability to see beyond that. His mother, too, he'd become sick of, because she didn't dare challenge his father. She's bent over backwards, let the man do anything and everything he wanted, to her, "for" her, and she'd taken it, claiming it was her divine place, determined by God, to serve her husband in all things. Her lack of strength to fight back, to be worth what she was worth, disgusted him.

Deme was nothing like his mother, and that was one thing he absolutely loved about her.

Tris shook his head. He was reliving his childhood, and that was one thing that would not calm him. Forcing his mind blank again, he drifted between awake and aware and unconsciousness.

His mind tranquil again, he took his notebook and went to find Deme. In a mansion as big as hers, she was likely to be anywhere, but he guessed she would be in the elemental rooms—large rooms that were designed to look like habitats for pokemon. The Grass Room housed trees, plants, and real grass; it was literally a chunk of woods indoors. The Water Room was painted blue, with one stage-like platform that stood above water that was upwards of a fifty feet deep. The water was churned mechanically to mimic the oceans, and on the end opposite the platform, it staggered off into a shore, sand and all. The Fire Room was steel vaulted all the way around, floor, ceiling and walls. Real lava flowed in there and the temp was upwards of a hundred degrees.

Tristan rounded a corner and nearly walked right into Deme's father. The older man was no taller then Tris, but more intimidating.

"What are you up to, Tris?" Arch asked.

"Not much. Going along with Deme's game." Tris supplied offhandedly.

"And the game this time?"

"Get the hell outta Boredom."

Arch eyed him, obviously not buying it. Tris felt the urge to hide his notepad behind his back, but he knew from experience that that action would only draw the man's attention to it, not away from it. So, Tris stood his ground, eyeing the man up and refusing to look away.

Arch glared back at Tristan, again angered that the boy didn't know his place. Just because his only baby girl had taken a fancy to him did not mean that the kid owned the world. Though Tris seemed to think so. He pushed the anger aside. He knew that glint in Tris's eyes; he and Deme were up to something. He had no doubt that some part of that adventure was in the notebook Tris held, but he didn't push. As always, he was torn between punishing them for their unlawful adventures and letting Deme have her fun. If only because he couldn't see her upset or mad. Add to that that he didn't have grounds to punish them for, when it was his blood that ignited the deadly tendencies in Deme.

Arch stepped aside and Tristan started past.

"Tristan."

Tris stopped and looked back at Deme's father.

"Be careful. Watch over her."

Tris frowned slightly, then nodded and scurried on his way. Arch headed for the basement to call some friends and let loose his emotions.

--------

Deme looked up from the notebook to eye Tris. Truly, he was brilliant. He was leaning back against a large tree, a wine glass in his hand again. He stared blankly at Jolt and Spark as the two Raichu played with each other. They rolled about on the ground, gently zapping each other, cooing and laughing. He smiled slightly when Spark "kissed" Jolt.

"I'm all for the call." Deme said.

Tris turned to look at her, taking a drink of his wine. Jolt and Spark dashed off into the bushes and the leaves rustled around as they fooled around.

He nodded. "I thought you'd like that one. We can take care of it easy and be gone. Since we've met Lance so many times, it stands to reason we can impersonate him for a few minutes rather easily. Then we can go."

She nodded. "The only problem that I've got with it is that we won't know if it works or not."

"Agreed. But if we can manage to lift a police Pokedex off an officer, we can figure it out."

"Let's go, then."

Deme led the way out, Tris behind her, leaving Spark and Jolt to their own devices. They returned to the library. Deme went straight to the table nearer the window, where one of the land-line phones sat. She rummaged around in a drawer, looking for the voice-disguiser.

Tris stayed near the library door, looking occasionally out and down the halls to make sure they were alone. He checked to make sure the com system was off and her dad wasn't listening in on them.

Satisfied that they were truly alone, Tris gave a thumbs-up to Deme. She attached the disguiser to the phone, then dialed. He didn't bother asking which police line she dialed; she knew them all and which would be the best to use.

"Yes, good day, Liney. I need two tracking chips deactivated…" Tris held back a laugh. Deme talked like she was ordering pizza, and the fact that he knew her voice came out sounding masculine and like Lance's on the other end would be enough to split his sides. Of course, it wasn't funny in the slightest. He tried to sober immediately.

"422203 and 422204…" Deme said. "Lance8743286509." She shot the numbers off without hesitation or difficulty. "Yes…Thank you. Uh-hmm." She hung up the phone, taking the disguiser off.

"She bought it."

"A clerk?" Tris asked, since he didn't recognize the name.

"Yup. And a little taken with the master, I think. She practically goo-goo eyed him through the phone. Piece of cake."

Tris smiled, walking to her, sitting his glass down on the table. "Now all that's left is the prep work. A couple of hours, maybe. You think."

She nodded, her eyes suddenly flaming. She raked her gaze over his body and he became hard and heavy. She closed the distance between them with a small step and came eagerly into his arms. He kissed her passionately as her hands skimmed his shirt. He pushed her back so that her breasts were molded to his front, then she pulled his black shirt over his head. She kissed him and he leaned her back against the table, his hands cupping her bottom, laying her out across it and himself over her.

--------

I'd like to thank Death Fox of Chocolate for the review. I'm sorry it took me so long to update; I've had a bad writer's block for months now.