As light droplets of rain drummed down on the roof of the grey van, the man sitting in the driver's seat tapped his gloved hands on the steering wheel with a frown as troubled as the dark storm clouds in the evening sky above. A glance to the clock in the vehicle's dash showed eight fifty four, leaving only six minutes until he was due at the house neighbouring the small alley he was parked in.
"Come on, get it together," John muttered to himself as he peered out through the water-streaked windshield, only seeing a few modest houses with the rare light on in an occasional window. High above and in the distance a clap of thunder heralded the incoming storm that was forecast for the evening, which was probably the most accurate weather report John had witnessed in both his lives. With nothing changing on the quiet street of Cerulean's outskirts his attention instead turned to the photo sitting on the passenger seat beside him. Seeming to have been taken from quite a distance away and from behind a large rubbish bin, the tanned man that was the focus was fairly unassuming with a dense stubble of black hair being the only real feature of note. However his posture indicated something more, with his eyes narrowed and head mid-turn as if to check for anyone watching him even if he was just fetching his mail from the post-box outside his house.
The house John had parked next to, rusty fence high enough that not even he would be able to see over it.
"From what our recon team gathered he lives alone," Giovanni said while he slid an envelope across his desk towards John. "No known pokemon either. He only set up shop in the area within the month, however we noticed a number of buyers in just the two days we had him under surveillance." The boss's face hardened into a glare. "My previous attempts to communicate my displeasure with his meddling in my business and region went ignored. That's why I've decided that this will be your first official job… and his last."
John put the photo back in the glovebox along with the envelope containing the rest of the briefing information, exchanging it for the loaded handgun nestled within, before unclipping his seat belt. The van creaked and listed to the side when he opened the door and stepped out into the light drizzle, his leather jacket keeping most of it off him. Giving his weapon a quick check before stashing it in his right jeans pocket all good to go, John made sure that his plain grey shirt was sufficient enough to hide his ghetto holstered gun.
'Should really bug the boss for a proper holster before I shoot myself.'
Still it was too late for such concerns, and John took one final moment to breath in and psych himself up in preparation for his meeting.
"Come on John, you can do this easy."
He walked out from beside the van and into the street with only the dim streetlights and occasional flash of lightning in the distance to illuminate his way. Taking a second to take stock of his surroundings the freshly promoted Rocket shoved his hands into his jacket pockets while trying to look nonchalant, not much having changed from when he had first arrived and parked. The surrounding houses were modest in size but most of them seemed to be well kept, with only the occasional piece of old furniture left to languish in the elements next to forgotten wheelie bins. There were certainly no meth addicts sitting out the front on milk crates or multiple cars missing wheels 'being worked on' cluttering the front yards that weren't surrounded by high fences, so it was already a step up from the low-income housing that he was used to seeing in cities back home.
No one out either save a group of cat pokemon he now knew were 'meowth', the three felines barely giving him a glance in their haste to rush past and take shelter from the steadily increasing rain.
While a big fan of the rain, his hair getting wetter prompted John to continue forwards and proceed with the task the Boss had given him. The front of the target house just had a simple picket fence to bar entry from the street, John sparing a look towards the same simple mailbox from the photo while he pushed the gate open and stepped onto the gravel path leading to the door. It actually was a pretty nice place considering the owner was apparently some sort of drug dealer and part time pokemon smuggler, single story with few windows but they all still had glass in them at least.
Unable to see anything through the curtains with what seemed to be heavy blackout blinds behind them, John stepped onto the front porch and took one hand out of his pocket to ring the doorbell. The wood creaked under his black work boots, and it took a lot of his willpower to not just rest his right hand in his pocket while a dull chime sounded out from inside the house which was followed up by the sound of cautious footsteps. Then, after a lock was turned along with the thunk of a heavy deadbolt, the wooden door was cracked open and a green eye peeked out at him.
"Yah? Can I help you?"
The man's voice was tinted with a hefty dose of suspicion and the single eye gave him a quick look up and down. John coughed into a fist and remembered what he'd been told to say.
"Hopefully. I'm… a bit lost and I'm looking for something." Going for his left pocket, the man watching him all the while, he flashed an envelope from within with the flap open just enough to show the white and red notes of currency stored within. "I was told that I might find help here."
He got another slow look over in response, the single visible eye narrowing at him through the crack in the door.
"You a cop?"
John couldn't help but sigh and roll his eyes at the predicted question. "Yeah, the chief of Cerulean PD himself standing on your porch with a bunch of cash in his pocket. Congrats, you got me." Staring back at the guy peeking out at him, he pointed a finger. "What about you? How do I know you're not one on a sting just getting your jollies off leaving people standing out in the rain?"
"Okay, okay! Geez…" Despite the scoff the door was opened fully, warm light spilling out into the gloomy and overcast evening. "You could have just gone with a simple 'no' buddy. Keep your breeches on, a little water never hurt anybody."
The man standing in the doorway was a perfect match for the guy in the photograph, short cut black hair and light stubble accompanied by green eyes that were currently giving John another look over. He returned the gesture, the man he'd been sent to deal with dressed in a simple blue and white striped shirt, blue pants, and sandals. He wore no belt and had no visible pokeballs on him, and John noted that the other man also glanced to his waist before raising an eye at him.
"You got any pokemon on you, big guy?" While asking the question the man, who just managed to reach John's chest in height, looked out past the Rocket grunt to scrutinise the empty street behind him. "Any friends with you?"
"Nope," John answered truthfully, of course neglecting to mention the item he did have with him. "Just me. Besides, pokemon don't really seem to like me much so I never bothered to get one."
After staring up at him in search of a lie and finding none, the man grunted and stepped aside with a nod. "Fair. Come inside then and let's get down to business. Name's Pete."
"Smith." Heading into the house with Pete shutting and latching the door behind him John gave the building a quick inspection as his host fiddled with the deadbolt. They were standing in a small living room connected to a kitchen, the space empty of decoration with just a small tv and a couch sitting on the wooden floorboards. Some fast-food containers and bottled water sat on the kitchen bench but other than that it looked less like a home and more like a squatter's nest, somehow managing to have less effort put into it than even John's old uni share houses.
Such judgements remained purely in his head however, with Pete circling around him before ushering him towards another door with a wave of his hand.
"Through here," he said while opening the door for John. "Take a seat."
John hesitated in the doorway for a moment, his hand twitching while he took in the sights of the new room. It wasn't the second couch or single armchair facing each other, nor the large safe and fridge locked shut with a padlock that elicited the response. Rather, it was the numerous mattresses standing up against the walls with what looked like packing foam taped to the remainder of the walls and ceiling not covered by mattress. A set of large moving boxes, likely the source of the foam, sat forgotten in one corner with the entire setup illuminated by a single lightbulb hanging from the roof.
"Ah yeah, you're a first-time buyer, right." Realising that he was blocking the way, John moved into the room with the silent reminder that he was the murderer with the gun and was probably not about to be serial-killed. Pete followed behind with a smirk on his face. "I get the reaction a bit when newbies see the sweet soundproofing setup for the first time. Even on a night like this with all the beautiful rain and thunder I like to keep me business nice and quiet." He gave the pile of moving boxes a quick glance before moving to the locked fridge with a smile. "Take a seat on the couch and I'll sort you out in a jiff."
Doing as asked, John's eyes passed over a blue bandanna with some sort of white 'o' symbol with two bones in it that was sitting on top of the safe and settled on the back of the now-closed door, also covered with yellow foam.
"Does it work well?" Unseen to Pete, John's hand was sliding down towards his right pocket.
His host let out an amused snort and continued to fiddle with the padlock on the fridge. "Well enough to stop Old Johnson next door from complaining to the police any time I have customers that decide to argue with me over pricing, for one. Nothing kills a deal quicker than the law showing up for a noise complaint, buyers are a twitchy bunch." A slight pause. "Also helps to keep any… nosy eavesdroppers out of the loop, from trying to kill me jam, you know?"
'If only you knew mate, it isn't only your jam in danger.'
"Sure, sure," John nodded with his hand reaching his pocket and sliding in, Pete's back still to him. "Bastards from the sounds of it."
The soon-to-be-dead man laughed at that, and John stopped going for his pistol when the guy turned around to glance at him.
"Yer right about that one, Smith! Bunch of bilge rattata I swear." Returning his focus to the fridge with a grin, Pete continued. "Now what are you in the market for tonight? Something to get a pokemon performing their best? Or something fun, for a 'mon or you, ay? I've got some nice little pills that'll have any pokemon or human seeing galaxies for a good few hours, so long as they aren't much bigger than you mind. I wouldn't recommend trying to double dose on 'em either unless you want someone to lose a few days."
'You can do it, John.'
"Actually," John answered with his hand dipping into his pocket and starting to close around the grip of his loaded gun, "I was here for something special."
Pete paused, it occurring to John a bit too late that the man was taking an awfully long time to deal with a single padlock.
"Something special, ay? Well I also deal with the occasional bit of pokemon smuggling so let me show you one. Now, Poochyena!"
"Wha-?"
Pete's shout caught John off guard causing him to fumble his draw, his gun snagging on his inside pocket when he tried to pull it out. However it paled to the surprise that came bursting out from the middle of the box pile in the corner, some sort of small black and grey canine rocketing towards John with red and yellow eyes narrowed and a sharp set of teeth locked in a snarl.
"Ena!" the pokemon barked before leaping at him, John's mind asking hurried questions at the same time the large rocket grunt reflexively raised his left arm to shield his neck and face from the oncoming canine.
'Holy shit, am I about to be mauled by a fucking pokemon? Am I going to have to kill it too? Can I even kill it? It's kind of cute.'
The latter observation was certainly not appropriate for the current time, but as the poochenya's jaws clamped around John's left arm to bite straight through his leather jacket and into his tender meats, the sudden lance of pain helped to at least answer some of the unspoken queries.
'Fuck! Cute or not I'm going to fucking destroy you, you fucking mongrel!'
Arm being savaged by the pokemon with the creature's body also slamming into him with a tackle, John was sent tumbling off the couch despite the large size difference to the slavering beast with all of his musings and conclusions on the appropriate amount of pokemon harm succinctly summed up into a single and sharp vocalisation.
"Ow Cunt, fuck off!"
Poochyena disregarded the request and growled back a response past a mouthful of arm, the small canine's maw locked around the limb while John tried to shake it off to no avail. In fact it only served to worsen the damage and pain, the leather not doing much to stop the pokemon's sizable teeth from puncturing flesh and drawing blood. To make things worse the beast was deceptively strong for its size, Poochyena gnashing and growling while it pressed forwards to pin John against the couch and floor. Relentless in its assault as well, not even loosening its fanged grip while it ducked and dodged every attempt John made to instinctively grab at it with his other hand. Each movement dragged the arm along with it which only severed to increase the damage done, and a memory of his loaner rattata being savaged by Ratterick in his first pokemon battle flashed up in John's mind as a damp patch started to spread through his jacket sleeve.
The thought of ending up as bad off as his training pokemon spurned him to focus his defensive actions even as pain shot through his arm, the poochyena grunting but still persisting as a knee hammered into his left flank. It was a weak strike with John not being in the best position with his back on the floor and his right side against the couch, for once his decent height working against him with his legs being unable to properly make contact with the agile attacker. Grunting through clenched teeth, John resorted to the tried-and-true method of trying to gouge out the creature's red and yellow eyes with the fingers of his right hand instead of going for the throat, but a sharp and swift kick to his head knocked him about before he was able to make contact.
"Thought you could pull one on Pete did you!?" The accusation was accompanied by another painful blow to John's head, with said head thankfully sporting a decent skull and ample natural padding while the flats of Pete's sandals were as far from a pair of steel toes as footwear could get. John abandoned his attempts to flail at the poochyena and instead tried to shield his head with his free arm instead, the next kick from Pete slamming into it instead with the impact still rattling John's teeth. He still managed to get a question out through his grunts of pain, though.
"The fuck Pete!?"
"Don't act dumb!" Pete yelled back while ceasing his kicks and instead pointing a finger down with a snarl. "You reek of rocket, and I've been in the business long enough to know how you lubbers work! Your boss think he can run me out of town?" He punctuated it with a strike of his sandal to John's shoulder, the unfortunate grunt on the ground uttering out another curse even as the considerable bulk absorbed most of the blow. "Ya don't think I didn't see your little helpers sneaking around in their uniforms snapping pics with their little cameras!? I'm not blind or stupid!"
'Of course,' John thought with another strained grunt, pokemon teeth still buried in his injured arm. 'Of course they were wearing their cunting uniforms! God knows we don't know the meaning of subtlety!'
"What helpers? I don't even know them!" It was mostly true, John not even knowing that grunts had been sent to the area previously for recon until he had received his briefing from the Boss earlier in the morning. Viv was occupied on another job and Max… well, Max was currently dipping into his third week of 'sick' leave with a lot of visits scheduled with Doctor Yari. Suffice to say, after receiving the news of John's new 'promotion' the lad wasn't quite ready to be an accomplice just yet, if ever. The local breeders only had so many buizels.
Another kick, this one mostly glancing off his shoulder again, showed that Pete wasn't exactly convinced.
"Likely story! Poochyena, keep 'em pinned and bite him some more if he tries to run! Looks like we haveta send this bilge-rat scurrying back to his rocket boss with a few marks so he gets the message!"
When Pete stepped away and headed for the fridge John immediately resumed his attempts to grab the pokemon mauling his arm now that he no longer had to shield his head, another curse leaving his mouth as Poochyena bit down again and jerked his head just out of reach. All former considerations of quarter to be given to the small pokemon were already gone, John thoroughly pissed off at the pokemon pup with his anger only increasing while fresh adrenaline flooded into his veins. Said veins were also leaking out in his left arm thanks to the pokemon mauling him, but unfortunately it appeared that his host wasn't just going to be satisfied with sic'ing his dog on John.
"Time for you to walk the plank!" chuckled Pete, retrieving a solid bit of two by four timber leaning up against the side of the fridge. Hefting it up in one hand, he turned back around and smacked it down into his other with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Which in landlubber terms means I'm going to beat ya with one!"
"Fucking splendid," John grunted out through clenched teeth while he continued to struggle with Poochyena, Pete beginning to slowly advance upon him with more dark chortles. Glancing back at his blood-soaked jacket sleeve, at this point the lances and throbs of pain in his arm confirming that things were well and truly buggered, John glared at the pokemon responsible with the poochyena growling back at him while clamping down harder to discourage him from trying anything. Unfortunately for the dark type it backfired and only pushed John past the point of caring about any further damage to his arm, the additional pain giving way to the adrenal-fuelled rage that sharpened his mind and spurned him to take more drastic action. "Nah, fuck this, and fuck you!"
Poochyena could only blink in surprise when John, rather than attempt to use his left arm to push the pokemon off of him so he could move, instead pulled his injured arm towards his chest with the dark type still attached. It of course meant that the sharp jaws were along for the ride as well, John's teeth gritted together as the natural edged weapons dug deeper into his arm and widened the wounds already present, but it succeeded in drawing the creature's body in closer for another attempted strike. Once again the human lashed out with his right hand and once again the determined pokemon tried to duck his head away to avoid the grab, but this time Poochyena was just a bit closer than the previous attempts.
Additionally, this time John wasn't going for the neck.
The pokemon barely had time to grunt in surprise around a mouthful of arm when the Rocket's right hand seized one of his back legs, and Poochyena's eyes widened when the large man yanked back with a grunted curse. John simultaneously rolled over and away from his position pinned against the couch while dragging the unfortunate dark type to the ground, the smallish canine still latched onto his left arm even as John manoeuvred so that the beast ended up trapped under his sizable torso. Well, trapped and very squished, Poochyena now finding himself pinned between the floor and upwards of two-hundred kilograms of chair-destroying bulk. He tried to wiggle out with a wheeze while John shifted his own position atop him but it was to no avail, with the very blood-soaked arm still held in his mouth now being used in combination with sheer mass and gravity to keep his head pressed to the ground.
"Fucken' bite me you dog!?"
No longer against the couch and his right hip free from the floor, John immediately went for his pocket with his uninjured arm while baring his own teeth at the struggling pokemon. Pete, previous dark humour having vanished upon his pokemon becoming the recipient of an impromptu Body Press, rushed up to the brawl on the floor with the plank in his hands already mid-swing.
"Oh no ya don't!" His blow smacked John's arm down and earned a hissed curse of pain from the large grunt, the plank catching him right above the elbow. Shifting around for another swing, Pete went to aim his next attack at the grunt's ribs while John continued to wrestle with the poochyena on the ground. "Keep biting Poochyena, don't let 'em get a pokemon out!" The fact that Poochyena at the current moment lacked the option to even stop given that John was effectively keeping him pinned with his own bloodied arm was moot, with the pokemon's master lending assistance in the form of another beating. "He's a big one so he is, but he'll tire out eventually!" The loud smack of wood against torso meats punctuated the point while also earning a rather colourful slur against Pete's mother, the shady suburban dealer stepping around with his wooden plank raising high for another clubbing.
In doing so however, Pete got closer to John's legs while also missing the way the besieged criminal glanced back at his exposed knees with a silent snarl.
'This bloke wants to larp as a pirate? I'll help by setting him up for a peg leg!'
Leaning slightly onto his left shoulder with the poochyena still underneath him, John cocked his leg and lashed out with a rage-fuelled kick right to Pete's knee. The boot caught the man unawares and Pete yelled out when it connected, his limb buckling and sending him tumbling to the floor with agonised obscenities.
Well and truly done by this point and with one attacker preoccupied with a busted knee, John refocused on the beast chewing on his left arm with his free hand finally able to retrieve his gun from his pocket. With all prior concerns and quandaries over shooting a pokemon already chased off by the unpleasant experience of having one maul him, he drove his arm deeper into the poochyena's mouth and shifted most of his weight down onto his left side while sliding his readied weapon underneath his own gut.
Of course the stubborn creature didn't cease its attempts to gnaw his arm off even as more weight was placed upon it, Poochyena merely grunting in discomfort while his teeth continued to easily chomp through jacket, fat, muscle, and skin, with hate-filled red and yellow eyes glaring at John as his master rolled around on the ground behind the pair with the plank forgotten and hands firmly clasped around a wounded knee. Likewise, in his tenacious and single-minded mission to ruin both John's left arm as well as his entire day, the pokemon didn't so much as flinch even when a small metal barrel was pressed against his chest and a safety clicked off.
Poochyena received no further hint or warning of what was to come, John not even gracing the pokemon with an attempt at a cliché one-liner. Instead all he got was three bangs of the small calibre handgun firing, slightly muffled thanks to the weapon's position below John's bulk, with each loud pop sending a nine-millimetre bullet lancing into the surprised dark type's torso at point-blank range before the recoiling slide hit John's gut at the wrong angle and the gun refused to fire any more. The effect was immediate with Poochyena's howl of agony louder than the shots themselves, the heavily bleeding arm previously held in his jaws now free to be pulled away. Pull it away John certainly did, the furious grunt rolling off the wounded pokemon and leaving it to hack and splutter weakly on the floor with the creature's blood joining John's own in its toothy maw.
Landing on his back with his heart rapidly beating in his ears, John huffed and grunted with his hands almost moving on pure autopilot while Pete ceased his rolling and curses to snap his eyes up with his mouth open in shock. Oblivious to the downed criminal gawking at him with a curse dead on the tip of his tongue, the rocket grunt was focused solely on the malfunctioning handgun in his bloodied hands. Or more specifically, on the spent brass cartridge that was stuck in the weapon's ejection port and jamming the slide in place. With his torn-up arm sending bursts of pain up through him in protest John struggled to get a grip on the gun's slide, his fingers leaving bloody streaks on the black metal as he tried to remember the training from his long years of service in Escape from Tarkov and watching gun channels on YouTube. Gritting his teeth and powering through the ache of his wounds John managed to get a decent grip on the second try, and with a hissed 'fuck!' he managed to rack the slide and clear the jam with the empty brass clattering to the floor.
During this Pete attempted to scramble to his feet, the unfortunate man on the top of Giovanni's shit-list only managing to make it up to his one healthy knee with his hand held up and out and his tanned face deathly pale.
"Wait!"
John opened fire without another second of hesitation.
Rounds tore through Pete and punctured his insides, the close range between the two men ensuring that each bullet made some form of mark on him. Most ended up centre mass in his torso but the last two walked up high enough to catch him in the face, one shattering teeth in his jaw while its brother dug up underneath his right eye and went straight into his brain. The noise of gunfire only ceased when the handgun slide slammed back and remained in place, John's finger still pulling the trigger for a few more seconds even though he had already dumped the entire magazine into Pete with the weapon having no more lead to give. Only when the dead man slumped down onto his front with a dying wheeze of escaping air did John lower his gun, his breathing ragged and his hands shaking again.
"Jesus Christ…" he muttered out with a pounding heart, eyes locked onto the now dead target who's blue and white striped shirt was quickly being turned red. "Shit." Then his brain reminded him through the adrenaline haze that Pete and his plank hadn't been the only the threat, John scrambling back on the floor with the empty mag dropping from the gun at the same time his right hand dived into his pocket for the last magazine he had on him.
One look at Poochyena stopped John midway however, the pokemon still and lifeless on the floor with his formerly blazing eyes dull and glassy. Scarlet blood dribbled from three wounds in the chest and dripped down from the still maw, although with the latter John couldn't be sure if it was the pokemon's vital fluid or his own. A glance at Pete confirmed that the human was similarly dead, both corpses unmoving save for the occasional twitch of a stubborn nerve.
With a groan through clenched teeth John pushed himself up against the front of the couch, solely relying on his right given the state of the other arm. The gun remained in his hand, as although it was empty at the moment John wasn't quite ready to let go of it just yet. From outside of the room and house a muffled crack of thunder served as a reminder of the surrounding storm raging outside, in perfect companionship to the one that had just occurred indoors.
"Why couldn't the boss just let me be a getaway driver instead?" John questioned under his breath with a wince, before taking a few moments in the sudden calm to survey the room. It was just him, the bodies, a few spent casings, and some blood. He spared a thought and look at the mattresses and packing foam covering the walls of the room, hoping that they had lived up to Pete's soundproofing claims as well as potentially caught any bullets not stuck in the deceased, before he gingerly turned his attention to his wounded arm. The grunt could only wince at the shredded leather and the blood, not exactly keen to see what was left of his limb underneath the jacket with the regular stabs of pain likewise set to get worse once the adrenaline wore off.
'Better get the first aid kit from the van before starting the clean up,' John thought with a furrowed glance between the two bodies he was sitting with, his eyes lingering on the poochyena in particular. 'God, I hope rabies and tetanus aren't things here. Or worse, some form of super poke-aids instead. Bloody hell that would suck.' With that thought he tried to push the faint feelings of guilt and regret deep down inside with a hasty sticky note added that read 'to deal with later', the pain in his arm, head, body, and lingering hatred towards the two beings that had caused it helping him to ignore the immediate moral aftermath of the killings with him instead focusing on getting to his feet.
After a pause for a few moments to sluggishly reload his gun just in case Pete had any more toothy surprises hiding in the rest of the house, John made for the latched door leading out of the room with the intention of tending to his arm as best he could before the return to the house for the unenthusiastic clean-up of the crime scene. Passing Pete lying face-first on the concrete floor in a small puddle of blood, John couldn't help but grimace to himself after a tired huff at the apparent modern-day pirate. It was involuntary, he just had to do it. The night was already shit and was going to get a lot shitter over the next few hours or so of discarded case and bullet hunting, hurried cleaning, and corpse burying. John needed something to help him cope.
"Yo ho ho," he whispered to himself under his breath, "and blow the man down."
Doctor Yari fumbled with his medical coat as he strolled past the empty reception desk in the Team Rocket medical centre, the hands of the clock high on the wall reading just past three in the morning. Any traces of sleep had already been blinked away during his hurried trip from his personal quarters, the auto generated 'Requested in Medical' message still blinking on the personal digital assistant in his pocket having seen to that. Such alerts were only sent during the most pressing cases, and he knew that the centre wasn't normally staffed at such a late time. Yari also knew that Giovanni had unfortunately sent poor John on the maiden mission of his new detestable role, which only added to the doubts that his presence being specifically requested was just a coincidence.
He was met with the confirmation of his suspicions as soon as the door to the first triage room opened and he stepped inside, Yari immediately spotting John sitting down on one of the medical stretchers with a solitary chansey fussing over him. The pokemon nurse had resorted to standing upon a borrowed stool in order to tend to whatever problem was plaguing the large man even with the gurney lowered as close to the ground as possible, a discarded and heavily stained jacket laying on the sterile white tiles nearby combined with the familiar metallic smell of blood hinting that John's assignment hadn't gone well. The man himself appeared particularly down in the dumps with the weighty frown on his face only broken up by frequent winces and sharp breaths, with Chansey cooing to him apologetically as she continued to work on his left-hand side.
"John!" Increasing his pace Yari adjusted his glasses and moved towards the pair, the addressed man quickly looking up at him while Chansey opted to focus on her work. "What happened?"
"Oh, Doc," grunted John, before he hissed when the pokemon helping him shifted his arm. "What are you doing here this late, I thought you were in bed? You didn't need to come down."
"I received an alert requesting my presence immediately, so of course I had to. I can only assume Chansey here was the one who sent it." The pokemon in question nodded her entire body in an affirmative without looking back at him, which earned a tired sigh from John.
"It's not that much of an emergency…"
Now close enough to see what the problem was, Yari had to beg to differ when he peered around Chansey to lay his eyes on John's left arm. It was caked mostly in dried blood with a few fresh smears, the pink pokemon diligently and carefully trying to clean it up as best she could with sterilised medical wipes. The source was plain to see, horrendous lacerations having ripped through the man's skin to punch deep into the muscle and fat beneath. The wounds were ragged and uneven, as if something had torn into the flesh and dragged through it, with bits of damaged skin and coagulated blood clumped up around the edges.
"Perhaps not life-threatening at the moment, but there is a massive danger of infections with lacerations that large and you are certainly going to need stiches." Leaning in for a closer look, Yari frowned at just how much dried blood had built up. "How long ago did this happen, John?"
"I dunno the exact time, but probably a few hours by now."
"…A few hours?"
"No more than four, Doc." In an unusual display for the normally pleasant grunt, John narrowed his eyes and replied back with a sharp tone. "There were some major problems so I couldn't just come straight back home without taking care of a few things first, okay? Fucking hell. I did some basic first aid and wiped it down and all with the antiseptic, I did try."
As a doctor of many decades with a large chunk spent working with the criminal underbelly of Kanto, Yari had been on the receiving end of some irritated patients before. Still, John's reaction was certainly unexpected so he was taken aback for a brief moment. It also didn't help that with Giovanni's new usage of the man the phrase 'taking care of a few things' gained many new potential and unpleasant meanings. Perhaps of more concern however was the reaction from the chansey nurse, the pokemon's movements stopping with her beady black eyes aimed directly at John's while her soft smile didn't change. If the prickly grunt picked up on the silent warning he didn't show it directly, but after a second of uncomfortable silence he slumped down with a sigh.
"I… shit, sorry Doc. I didn't mean to get short with you it's just…" The hand attached to the arm not in the firm grip of the still-staring nurse clenched into a fist. "As I said, not the best night of my life. I've got to cope somehow, and I'm still a bit on edge." Seemingly without noticing John started to lightly rap his fist against his right pocket, Doctor Yari not missing the thunk of something solid being hit every time the knuckles made contact. "I'll try to be nice, but you'll have to forgive me if I act a little bit like a prick. I don't mean it."
Yari nodded at the explanation and more importantly Chansey appeared to accept it as well, the nurse murmuring out a quiet 'chansey' before returning to her task of cleaning his wounds.
"I see," continued Yari with a frown. "I'm sorry to hear that John, would it help if we talked about it?"
"Not really, no. I don't really want to right now." A tilt of the head towards Chansey. "Probably can't anyway, boss's orders and all."
With a hum Yari nodded at the concern, before an idea popped into his head. It was quickly followed up by several more, the last few prompted by another look at John's wounds. Turning towards Chansey he aimed a thankful smile at her before clearing his throat.
"Of course. On that matter I think it would be best if we focused on getting your injuries tended to first. Chansey, I thank you very much for your help, how about you wash up and return to bed? Allow me to take over from here so you can get some sleep."
"Chansey, ans?" The nurse paused her cleaning and turned on the spot to look up at him.
"You've done a fine job, and I'm always looking for some suturing practice. I'll be sure to let you know if I need another pair of hands."
It was enough for the nurse, Chansey's smile widening as she hopped down off the stool with the bloody wipe quickly disposed of in a nearby biowaste bin. With both short arms wrapping around the stool she waddled off with a final short farewell, and while John was still deflated and gloomy he at least managed some semblance of a smile and short wave towards the departing pokemon.
"Thanks a bunch Chansey, I owe you a berry bar."
"Chan-chan chansey!"
Both men waited the cheery nurse had departed with the door closing behind her, Yari moving over to John's side with his eyes on the wound again and his voice lowered.
"Are you at least up for answering my specific medical questions? More information always means better treatment."
With another sigh John relented, the grunt wincing as he looked upon his own arm. "Makes sense. Yeah, so I had a run in with some sort of dog, a 'poochyena' I believe. Although I'm pretty certain that I read somewhere that hyenas aren't canines… Guess it doesn't matter." John continued on before Yari could ask what a 'hyena' was. "Oh, and a pirate. I think. The 'yar har' kind, not the Internet or Somali kind."
Yari blinked and looked up from the arm. "I'm sorry, you said you got attacked by… a pirate?"
"I reckon so, or at least it was some guy who was far too into method acting." A grunt and frown. "There was a boatload of nautical talk, pun intended. Even called me a 'landlubber' and made reference to walking the plank. I dropped the ball and everything went tits up, letting him get the drop on me with his hidden attack dog."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Didn't help that he had pegged me as working for Team Rocket from the start thanks to our insistence of wearing our uniforms everywhere even on bloody stealth missions. Holy shit…"
He could only offer John a sympathetic nod, fully aware of the Team's harsh uniform requirements. Unfortunately the man who wanted them enforced also was the same person who paid the wages, so there wasn't much of a chance that it would be reversed in the near future. Besides, in Yari's mind, it was far from the worst decision that Giovanni had made… especially in recent times. Even now it was obvious that John was far from his usual self, although it didn't stop the hesitant question that the doctor just had to ask.
"What about your suspected pirate?"
John answered with snort containing little amusement. "He got sent down to Davy Jones."
'I have no idea who that is,' was the first response that came to Yari, but it was overridden by a more uncomfortable one.
"And the poochyena?"
John twitched and pulled his healthy arm closer inwards, Yari having no doubt that he would have crossed his arms in front of his chest if he was able.
"…I don't want to talk about it."
He nodded. "That's okay, maybe later then in a more comfortable setting. Now, about your arm…"
"Stitches, hurrah," said John with an eyeroll, Yari pursing his lips and glancing over to the nearby cabinets containing medical supplies.
"Unfortunately there's no avoiding them with wounds this large. However, I want to ask if you'll allow me to try something first." At John's raise of a brow he explained further. "I've mentioned before that the science team was interested in testing out the effects of some pokemon-targeted medicines on you, and while I hate to say it I think we have the perfect opportunity right now. I know it sounds rather clinical…"
"Sure, whatever," John answered with a shrug of his shoulders, surprisingly putting up little resistance to what essentially amounted to unscheduled medical testing. "I thought they only act as an antiseptic when used on non-pokemon anyway, so what's the worst that can happen?"
"Severe allergic reaction resulting in death," Yari got out automatically, before quickly attempting to deflect with a short chuckle. "More likely just some stinging, however. I can't recall any specific confirmed case of the former off the top of my head."
"…Wonderful." Still, the man sitting on the gurney relented with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Ah, whatever. I still say go ahead, this arm's not exactly giving me the best time at the moment anyway. Least it's not caning as bad as it was before, nearly couldn't drive the van back."
Yari offered a sympathetic nod, but he couldn't quite quell the spike of curious excitement at John's acceptance. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pda while he walked over towards the wall-mounted cabinets, the screen lighting back up while he quickly jotted down some initial notes about the conditions of the wound. After a brief moment of contemplation Yari selected one of the many red bottles from a colourful collection, and with super potion in hand he returned to John. The sitting grunt stopped prodding his injured arm with a finger and wince to look back up, brow furrowing as he pursed his lips at the pokemon medicine.
"Isn't that stuff some of the really expensive stuff?"
"This? It's only a super, hardly unaffordable for trainers thanks to the League subsidising medical supplies as long as you have an official license. Or a convincing enough fake." Using the camera on his device to snap a few 'before' pictures of the arm, Yari continued with a hum. "In addition, when the organisation you work for mainly targets pokemon and related technology, the centre tends to end up with some of the surplus." John shrugged and nodded at the explanation, and Yari pocketed his pda while the spray bottle in his hand was wiggled. "Your injuries are deep, and while I doubt this will actually do much aside from act as another disinfectant, I see no reason to not use it over a standard potion. Now, any questions before I start? Keep in mind that I'll stop as soon as you say so."
One of John's boots started to tap on the floor and the man glanced at his injuries. "So… you think this is just going to sterilise, yeah?"
Yari nodded. Despite his earlier findings in regards to the unusual number of stem cells present in the large man it was still medicine primarily meant for pokemon. The test was based on nothing but a hunch, with the faintest hope for some kind of anomalous result tempered by the doctor's extensive knowledge that no recorded effects on human beings existed save for preventing infection.
"Okay then Doc," shrugged John while he held his arm out straight. "Spray away."
Concerns and expectations put to the side, Yari nodded once more before he leaned in and aimed the potion at the bite wounds. John flinched when the mist from the three-second spray hit the top his arm followed by another identical application to the bottom bite, but he quickly recovered to blink and raise his eyes in mild surprise as the medical liquid soaked into his lacerations.
"Huh, I actually don't feel anyth- Ah fuck!"
Yari jolted back when the man shouted out the curse, John shaking his arm by his side with his teeth clenched in a scowl. "Sting my arse! My cunting arm feels like it's on fire! Bloody fucking cunt!"
Neglecting this time to scold John for his string of curse words given the circumstances, Doctor Yari took a step back to give the patient space. At the back of his mind, a small inside voice shouted out 'allergic reaction never confirmed' at him in a repeat of his previous words.
"John!"
"Ah… shit Doc!" With his free hand gripping the clenched fist of the affected arm, John shook his head with a grunt and a hiss. "I swear I'm not a softcock, but this isn't exactly pleasant. God forgive me for saying it, but it's like something's crawling in my skin!" With John taking deep breaths and staring daggers at his own arm as if he blamed it for making him break his composure, Yari noticed an incredible sight at the same time as the grunt himself. "Holy… Doc?"
He had no answer at first, eyes wide and locked on John's arm.
The wounds seemed to be closing before his very eyes, the flesh knitting back together as the natural healing process that would normally take several days instead passed by in seconds instead. Fresh blood dribbled out from the sides of the ragged tears, but the flow quickly slowed in a matter of moments, John's teeth still clamped together throughout the entire experience even as a strangled noise of abject confusion escaped from his mouth. Yari couldn't help but agree, the doctor gobsmacked while he observed the deep injuries formally in need of plentiful stitches instead seal back neatly together with nothing to aid them save for a super potion that was only supposed to disinfect.
Well, 'neatly' was proved to incorrect a few moments later, clumps of bloody excess tissue spurting up from the closed wounds as if John's body thought that it still had healing to do. Neither man moved or even seemed to breath while they watched, the excess mass of raw skin and soft tissue finally ceasing it's growth and instead leaving mounds of pink and red atop of where the bites from Poochyena used to be. Slowly, John's teeth separated as his hand released his injured arm, the seated grunt huffing lightly while he stared at the limb with wide eyes.
"Doc? Excuse my language but… the fuck?"
"I…" Yari hesitated, a slight shake of his head followed up by him leaning in closer. "I have to admit I don't know. Truly a fascinating reaction from a human, you normally only see such effects on pokemon injuries…" He couldn't help the tinge of excitement that crept into his voice, even as his heart rapidly beat in his chest. Countless questions and theories swirled about in his head, until one particular one rose to the forefront when he noticed how John had relaxed somewhat. "How does it feel now? Is there lingering pain?"
Taking a second to answer, John turned his arm over and back with a scoff of surprise.
"Actually, now that you mention it I don't feel a thing."
"Amazing…" Snapping into action, Yari eyed the fresh lumps of tissue and raised a finger. "Hold on, I want to test something." Without waiting for an answer or even stopping to record his observations so far, the doctor rushed over to the medical cabinets before returning with a surgical tray of tools and a pair of sterile gloves. Only taking the practiced medical professional a few moments, he was still to slower off the mark than John with the man already prodding the lumps with a wary finger. "Careful John, let me examine them first."
"I still feel nothing," provided John with another huff of surprise, the previous cursing relaced with stunned curiosity. "Like, I'm poking it and apart from the blood there's nothing."
A quick series of pictures were taken, the pda returned to the pocket of the doctor's coat with haste. Snapping on the gloves, Yari leaned forwards while opening up a sterile alcohol wipe at the same time. John was already nodding in consent with his arm offered out, both men holding their breaths when the medical wipe made contact.
"Anything now?"
"No, nothing." Relieved breaths, the pair waiting until both the top and bottom of John's arm was fully cleaned and disinfected. There was no further change based on either visual observation or the patient speaking up, save for last traces of blood being removed with no more spurting up to replace it.
"Hmm, still no change of feeling?" At John's shake of his head, Yari resisted the urge to rub his chin with his gloves on. "I wonder if the tumours even have nerves through them or if it's purely some form of excessive dead scar tissue. What about the presence of blood vessels as well? I just have to know…"
John poked some of the suspect flesh on the bottom of his arm with his finger again, his expression souring to a frown of worry. "You're calling them 'tumours' now, these things aren't cancerous are they?"
Yari had a frown of his own at the suggestion. "While I can't say for sure, especially given that I've just witnessed a massive medical anomaly in the last five minutes, I highly doubt that they are anything but benign. Instead, I'd theorise that they are made up of rudimentary scar tissue, perhaps lacking anything more complex than collagen and epidermis." Grabbing a long pair of steel medical forceps, he waited for John to nod for him to go ahead before giving the strange masses some experimental pokes himself. "Given our application of the super potion, maybe it triggered your large amount of stem cells in a similar manner to a pokemon but without their unique DNA, energy, and genetic structure. Hence the over production of apparent inert tissue."
Already forming a question just as Yari finished muttering to himself, John's brow furrowed. "Wait, what did you say about my stem cells?"
Yari internally winced at the prospect of the upcoming explanation, remembering how Giovanni had taken it. "Well John, to start with there are these cells inside of you called stem cells."
"Yeah, I know what stem cells are," he quickly interjected with his healthy hand raising up to stop the doctor. "They make up your organs and other parts, and you can use them in stem cell treatment to heal illnesses. That's why they do bone marrow transplants and try to grow them in labs."
The raised hand hadn't been needed, John's surprise knowledge of the incredibly niche and sadly neglected medical research enough to bring Yari to a stop on its own.
"Grow in labs?" He lowered his glasses and stared at the grunt with confusion. "For what purpose? The small amount of application for adult cells aren't worth it."
A shrug "Aren't there other types as well? From foetuses and embryos, that's why you want to try to grow them in labs or clone them instead so they can use them to repair busted kidneys and stuff without having to rely on abortion donations."
Yari hadn't really put much effort into uncovering many specific details from John's past previously, the man's claim of amnesia (heavily contested by Giovanni) often being used when curiosity of the time before the portal arrival got the better of him. He also wasn't normally the type to try and wring information out of someone who wasn't keen on sharing either, aside from matters of medical importance. At that moment however after having just heard John explain, abet crudely, a basic understanding of cutting-edge research mostly ignored in favour of pokemon-based treatments, the doctor made a mental note to change his approach to things moving forwards. He even started right away, forceps tips resting upon one of the curious tumours as he stared at his patient.
"How do you even know all of that?"
The resulting huff was almost defensive.
"News articles and light browsing. Stem cells aren't exactly new or that esoteric Doc, I remember people worrying about them back when Bush was…" he caught himself, John wincing and rubbing his temple. "Ah, it's a blank after that. Forget I said anything, but yeah I sort of know what they are and how they work."
As much as he wanted to question further, Yari debated internally with himself before he managed to nod and return his attention to the lumps. "Very well. I suppose at least with your basic knowledge already there I can skip most of the details. To condense it all down, your tests have confirmed an abnormally high amount of stem cells present within you. Specifically, ones termed 'embryonic', which you correctly remembered as being primarily found in foetuses. Your bone marrow is showing no signs of stopping production of these anytime soon, and one of the research team's hypotheticals is that their large numbers along with increased hormone levels are the cause of your unusual fitness improvements."
"Oh. Sounds good."
Yari couldn't help but let out a good-natured snort at the response. "Well, so far it certainly seems so, yes."
"And you think they're causing…" another finger poke at one of the lumps. "This stuff?"
"At this time that's my initial theory." Lifting up the forceps once more, Yari paused before his next words. "If you'd allow me I'd like to remove some of the growth in order to run further tests, figuring out the exact composition would go a long way to figuring this new development out. The ability for a human to benefit from the rapid healing provided by pokemon medicine… why, the potential applications in human healthcare would make it a discovery of the century!" Yari, smile giddy with the thought, nodded towards John's arm while becoming a tad more subdued. "Not to mention the personal benefit of quickly fixing you up in case of any more pokemon encounters. Though I highly doubt that either of us wish for them, I'm sure."
John snorted at that. "Amen Doc." Softly shaking his arm, the grunt furrowed his eyes at it with a grimace. "It's dirty business, not exactly something to be proud of or put on a resume. Somehow though I don't think the boss is going to see things the same way."
He couldn't hold back his own frown at the reminder. "Unfortunately I have to agree with you. Past experience has taught me that Giovanni can sometimes, hmm, make misjudgements when the scent of power or profit is dangled before him. Not that you heard it from me, though." With a shake of his head, Yari shrugged his shoulders. "Still, perhaps tonight will have some good come from it. Would you have any objections if I attempt to remove as much of the growth as I am able? Along with obtaining samples for study, I can't say that those tumours are the prettiest things in the world to have stuck on you. If I'm right you shouldn't feel much if anything at all, even without local anaesthetic." He gave the arm another pointed look, John meeting it with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Sure. You're the expert Doc, cut away."
AN: Once again I went massively over the word limit with the chapter resulting in yet another split chapter. Which says something considering some chapters so far have hit the 18 thousand mark. Still, while I could just withhold the second part and save it as a buffer for a fortnight I feel like they both need to be a package deal to flow better.