==Just South of Kanto==

Ash pets his horse's mane as he listens the to the rhythmic sound of its hooves trampling the unpaved trail. He looks up and notes that the trail has grown noticeably wider, yet there have still been no other travelers on the route. Craning his head up he can smell the fresh salt seasoning the air; the ocean must be close by. Hopefully there will be some type of civilization soon he's been running low on supplies since the incident with the coyote. He's been going through it in his mind over and over, what was it that he saw? It felt too real to be a dream, but too strange to be real. While preoccupying his brain with the enigma he unknowingly passes up a cluster of blackberry bushes. His stomach rumbles as he takes another turn in the road, and there off in the distance he can make out the silhouette of a fellow traveler. He clicks his heel to the side of his horse and checks back to make sure Pikachu is in tow with his hurried pace. As he approaches the solitary traveler, he can see that it is an elderly man walking gingerly at the roads edge. Coming from a small town he realizes he has never seen someone with quite so many wrinkles before. Ash rears his horse back and advances toward him at a leisurely speed; hopefully this person will be able to inform him of the nearest town.

"Hello sir, how are you doing today?" Ash calls out from his mount.

The elderly man looks up at him as if he's just noticed him. He ignores the question, or possible didn't hear it and waves Ash to come nearer.

Cautiously Ash does his bidding and draws closer to him. The old man is tall enough to remain eye level without him having to dismount, even with his age induced hunched posture.

"How old do you think I am?" The elderly gentleman asks with a warm smile on his face.

Not wanting to insult him with his honest guess he shoots low and guesses, "Sixty five?"

The gentleman paints and even broader smile across his face as if amused by the response, "I'll be ninety four by the ides of this month."

Ash is honestly surprised by that, he can't recall ever seeing anything beyond a tree that was that old. "You don't look a day over seventy" he joke, "Do you happen to know if there's a town nearby sir?"

The elderly man rests his large veiny hand on Ash's shoulder, "And my wife is only eighty." He gives a light chuckle, pats Ash and carries on his way.

Disappointed Ash figures its best to leave him be and continues down the path. Where ever he came from couldn't be far.

A few minutes down the trail wraps around a large hill and connects to a road paved with rocks and rubble. Clomping on to the new route he looks back from where he came and sees a sign posted warning travelers not to pass due to recent bear spottings.

This new road runs down a leveled path paved clear through the hills in an obscure way that Ash had never encountered. Staring down the middle, he can see that it continues in this manner out through the landscape as far as the horizon. Like a hedge maze various species of vines and moss have become over grown along its lush green walls. The perfectly straight divide meets the hills of the terrain in a way that makes walking down the road feel like passing through magnificent green waves suspended in animation. Ash gawks as he rides through, several of the hills rise taller than any building from Pallet Town making him wonder what they could have possible done with all of the transplanted landmass.

Unsure of where to go he looks to the sun and decides to continue in a southern direction. Travelling along he hears a distant rumbling echoing down the chamber of the long hall. It grows stronger and Ash pulls his horse to the side as two-door convertible with bright white wheels comes speeding by. His horse is startled by the commotion requiring Ash to calm him down before continuing down. He reaches down and calls Pikachu over to cradle him up into his arms.

They continue down the demolished path until the sun reaches its peak in the sky. The aroma of the ocean becomes much more potent as the familiar sounds of the harbor start drifting to his ears. He can hear the sound of ship bells and crashing waves against the shore, but is unable to see anything from the dug out path. He stops his horse by the lower end of one of the hill slopes and hoists him self up onto the edge. He runs up to the crest of the hill as Pikachu watches on from his spot on the horse. From Ash's new vantage point he can see the ocean not too far off and a small harbor town with what appears to be a strip of buildings connected to the road he is currently travelling on. He drops himself down onto his horse and rides hurriedly towards the town. As he draws closer the road gradually inclines to level off with the hills around it and now he's able to see that the buildings are suspended a few meters above the ground on a series of wooden stilts. They are just tall enough to house a wet market teaming with a considerable amount of foot traffic below them, as people bustle about between stands and tents selling fruits of a multitude of colors.

He makes he way under a large red arch with a black top and two carved wooden oxen on either side reared back as if side ready for attack. The rubble and stone road ends and makes way to wooden planks raised slightly off the soggy marsh of a ground underneath. Ash feels a wave of relief pass over him; he is comforted to finally be back around people. The clamor of their feet on the boards and the echoing of dozens of voices trying to speak over one another brings him back to playing tiles with childhood friends in the back in the back of town meetings.

As he paces forward a sun burnt gentleman approaches him with a look of utter disgust on his face.

"How can you go about harassing this animal?" He beckons to Ash.

He looks down at his horse, what could he possibly mean; maybe Pikachu?

"Look at the deplorable state of its shoes!" The man points down at his horse's feet, but Ash has no way of seeing them from his current position.

"W-what's wrong?" He stutters out confused.

"What's wrong? They're rusted and misaligned, if you keep riding this horse like that it's likely to slip and break a leg. How long have you been torturing this poor animal?" He speaks in a belittling tone that shrinks whatever courage Ash thought he mustered while being independent. He only had the best intentions for this horse, and after all it wasn't him that harnessed him in this state.

"What am I supposed to do to fix it?" Ash asks genuinely.

"Well, you seem like a nice enough kid so I'll help you out. I've got a stable not far from here, I can have him right as rain in half an hour flat. I'll take him with me and you meet me right back here." He assures him with a warming hand petting the horse's mane.

Ash agrees and dismounts ineptly from the large equestrian beast. The man bends down and tells where he can find his stable and of his favorite stand in the nearby market to check out. As the man walk away with his horse Ash thanks him enthusiastically while tucking Pikachu into his pack. Afterwards he begins his way down the planks along the main road toward the lively bazaar. In between scattered boards Ash is stepping over, weeds and grass blades creep up reaching out to the sunlight. As he enters into the thickness of the crowd no one pays him much attention other than a few casual glance. Perhaps they're used to seeing homeless kids wondering around in this area. An older bearded man beckons him away when he lets Pikachu out to relieve himself near his stand. He picks up his mouse and hurries away and catches the eyes of the young daughter of a well to do couple. He pauses to look at her; she couldn't be more than a few years older than him. They make eye contact and the look on her face brings Ash to the startling reality of the wretched state of his present attire. He sinks back into the crowd to get away from her disapproving stare. How long had he been wearing this shirt? He looks down at one of the holes and stretches it out to see how big it has gotten, a few more seams snap to his dismay. In his rush to escape the girl he finds him self in front of a cart selling bright red fruits. Ten for a nickel, he passed a field of those just yesterday maybe he could sell some himself. As he thinks about it a heated debate starts between a customer and another storeowner, as they scream he sees the angry customer's kid steal a shirt full of vegetables. Perhaps that wouldn't be the best option for him after all. He decides to go check out to the docks and see all the different ships whose masts were peeking out over the market.

Standing out in the middle of the busy harbor Ash hears men screaming unfamiliar curses in languages from all over the world. He sees people of all different skin tones from pales hues of white to shades of a dark mahogany. Standing next to a row of broken pallets is a bearded man holding a sign advertising the town's animal fighting matches. He chants energetically in the direction of the crowd, "Two fights every half hour from noon to dusk." A group of sailors hurrying along the narrow docks in dark wool sweaters and black caps run into another group of what appear to be nearby islanders; in white garbs with blue ascots, who were in the process of unloading a large crate. The collision causes the crate and two of their men to fall in the water. No communication is had between the two foreign groups as a fight breaks out right there on the docks. Ash notices that the commotion catches the attention of a large man who leans out from his office cabin over looking the peers. He sticks his two fingers in his mouth and whistles louder than a steaming train. From the edge of one of the docks, he can hear the heavy thunder of paws stomping towards the fighting sailors, the splintering sound of wood cries out as its claws tear in and out of the decking. The crowd that gathered blocks Ash's view of the oncoming animal but he can see the sailors reaction, all but two of them stop fighting and turn, with bewildered eyes towards the rushing animal. A heaping blur of grey fur descends from the air and collides with the men sending them crashing into the water. It was moving too fast for Ash to get a good look. The large man yells out from his cabin in another language Ash can't understand, but he repeats himself in different tongue that he is able to recognize.

"Next time he will bite!"

The warning resonates and the men climb back to the docks wringing out their clothes giving each other begrudged stares. The crowd disperses and after enough time passes Ash figures it been long enough and starts walking back towards the market in search of the stable and his horse.

He finds the location the man directed him to but there doesn't appear to be any stables nearby like the man said. Instead he is in one of the quieter areas of the market beside one of the only closed stores in the area. He certain this is the right place, so he decides to sit to wait for the stableman. After a few minutes of waiting the man shows up to Ash's delight, but with no horse at his side.

"Ah there you are" The man exclaims, "Your horse looks better than ever, he's positively beaming." His assuring smile shows signs of wear.

"Where is he then?" Ash asks curiously.

"Oh I've got my stable boy grooming him at the moment."

"Well can I go get him?"

"Of course, of course." He pats Ash on the back, "That'll just be 25 silver."

"What? I don't have any money! You didn't mention anything about money, you said you wanted to help me out!"

"Aye kid, I am looking out for you. I'm cuttin' you a deal over here, anybody else would charge an arm an a leg for what I did for ya."

"I don't want you help anymore, I don't want anything from you. Just give me my horse back and I'll take care of it myself."

"It's too late for that now. The job's done, either you pay me or I'm keeping the thing." His assuring smile has faded leaving behind a much more grim expression.

Ash pleads but the man won't listen. He tells Ash he'll be here for the rest of the day, "either figure something out or I can't help you."

Ash walks away disparagingly, his mind racing; does he even need the horse? How else would he be able to travel? Maybe he'd gather berries and sell them, but how many would that take? There is the bearded guy out on the docks; he looks down at Pikachu pondering. Ash knows what the little mouse is capable of but he has no way of controlling him. The more he thought of it the less he liked the idea. Reluctantly he runs back to the docks and finds the bearded man still holding his sign in one hand while nipping at a rice puff with the other. Ash stops a few paces away to catch his breathe, "Is there- - Is there an age limit to enter?"

He sets his sign down and swallows his bite of rice. Glancing down at Pikachu he gives Ash an aggravated look. "You know you're not the first asshole to paint a rat yellow to try and get a match payment."

"He's no fake." He shouts gesturing down to Pikachu in defiance.

"I don't want to hear it, besides if you got 'em in a CB they'll be able to heal it for you free of charge."

Ash is impressed, he didn't know a town this small would have such advanced technology, "How much does it pay?"

"Ten per fight, double if you win."

"I'll do it." Ash scoops Pikachu and puts him in his backpack then reveals his occupied CB to the bearded man. He approves and leads him to a large rusted metal warehouse at the edge of the docks. Groups of people crowd about the entrance, and behind them is a large dirt field covered entirely by haphazardly parked vehicles - more in one place than the entire population of Pallet town ever held. The bearded man grabs Ash's arm to pull him through the dense congregation huddled outside the warehouse doors. He pulls his pack to his front and grips it tight. Inside people from all over are packed inside the dingy warehouse like sardines. He's wedged through the throng to a narrow corridor secured by an armed guard that allows the two to pass. Inside they find an office with a squat paper cruncher sweating profusely behind a desk. It wasn't just him the room was dank and intemperate with humidity seeping in through the open shutters allowing the ocean light to shine through. He stays seated and glares down at the mouse sticking out of Ash's backpack.

"Is this a joke?" He grabs a handful of cashews and stuffs them into his mouth.

"No, the kid's got CB. Alright, show him what you've got." The bearded man places his hand on Ash's back and shoves him forward. He timidly pulls out the three occupied CB from his backpack and hoists them up for them to see.

The man behind the desk wipes his brow and pads his sweaty mitts off on his pants, "Hand them over here kid." He reaches out and grabs them from Ash, turning each to the side he pecks out the serial numbers on his keyboard meticulously. He lifts his reading glasses up from around his neck and browses through the pale green font of his personal computer.

"I don't know where the hell you keep finding these people." He swivels from his computer and unlocks the cabinet adjacent to him; from inside he pulls out a lockbox. Withdrawing a few silver pieces he drops them in the bearded man's hand who then goes to leave abruptly. The door slams shut and Ash finds himself flooding with regret was this a mistake? This is exactly what Oak told him not to do. The man finishes locking his things back up and hands Ash a blank form with four empty lines.

"I just need your name and where you're from." Ash stares down at the form with an absent gaze, "Oh, here's a pen too. Now go fill it out in the hall, someone will be with you." He reaches across his desk to nudge Ash towards the door from his seat.

In the hall Ash wonders what to write in the blanks, it should be so easy, but he finds himself not knowing what to write on any one of the lines. What if someone in the audience is from Pallet Town, certainly they would recognize him. Didn't Gary say his parent's used to come down here for weekends? He fills in the first line, but stalls; can't make up which animals he's willing to put into harms way. Maybe he could still run away and not have to go through with this, but he needs his horse back or he's stranded out here. Before he can make up his mind someone comes walking down the hall.

"Alright kid you ready? Let me see what you got written on that form," he grabs it from Ash. "Red, just Red? No town, no city, nothing specific. You wanna give me something else to go on here kid?" He cocks his head to the side and raises his hands out in a way that says help me out here. Ash just stares at him intently, unable to pick the right words to use.

"Ok then, come on." He leads Ash down a separate corridor with signs stating they are headed to the arena floor, STAFF ONLY. The muddle echo of screaming fans grows louder as they draw nearer to the arena door. The butterflies in Ash's stomach are nose-diving; he can't go through with this.

"I'm sorry I have to go. I have to leave right now." Ash mutter under his breathe, the staff member doesn't respond he puts his hand on the door and turns to him. Did he even say that out loud? The door appears to be warped out of alignment and the man pushes hard to open it, "Alright, go wait over there on the bleachers til' you hear your name." He points to set of four rowed bleachers surprisingly mostly empty compared to the dense population of bodies crowding the standing room. This is the largest room in the warehouse with ceiling that reach all the way up to the rafters. The floors are hard brown clay with two round encircled battling areas at the center of everything. One is currently occupied by a battle that the crowd seems to enjoy but he can't see what going on over the mass of people. The other ring is empty, Ash stops at the edge of the circle and imagines he's standing in the actual tournament battlefield; the cheers are now for him and as a cacophony of applause chant his name, this IS what he wanted, right? He opens his eyes and looks down at the cracks; dried brown stains are splattered about, the crowd nearby drops to a hush. He hears a high shrill of pain and the hard thump of a limp body; the room erupts in approval. Ash runs over to the bleacher and climbs to the top row to see what happen.

Staff members are dragging off the carcass of a dead chimp while a fighting cock struts around displaying its feathers defiantly to the workers. They hurry away in fear of its peck and close the gates behind them. That chimp was twice that bird's size; did it really just kill it? Shouldn't this match be called to a stop? Animals aren't allowed to kill in league matches. The two men who appear to be the owners of the chimp pull a large cage into their corner, from inside Ash can hear a ravaging dog snarling to be freed. They stand and argue a bit before one of them steps forward to the front of the cage cautiously. The other retreats from the fighting area as he opens the cage and follows after his associate quickly. A grey Staffordshire bull terrier with blue eyes steps out foaming at the mouth with hate pulsing through his veins. The thing was the size of the cage itself and was covered with lacerations with tight skin and short hair tucked under every muscle. It crouched low to the ground baring teeth in an intimidating death growl; its mange-ridden face had the hungry eyes of a dog that had been starved for days. Ash is petrified; this isn't what he was expecting at all. How could someone treat an animal that way? It looked like a wild beast not the trained animals he was accustomed to listening to the league matches for so long.

The rooster's feathers perk back up as it starts circling away from the dog flashing its wings.

"Hey, kid. Are you with somebody?" Asks a middle-aged man sitting a few spaces away from Ash. The dog leaps toward the bird but it jumps high and away flapping its wings.

"No." Ash responds lost in the match.

"What are you doing in a place like this alone?" The dog watches it through the air and pounces on the bird before it has a chance to land. In two quick bites the dog breaks its wing and snaps its neck, by the third bite its already engulfing its meal. The crowd loves it.

Ash jumps up in shock, "isn't someone supposed to stop this?" He cries out.

"The fights are to the death in this tournament, this probably isn't the best place for you. What are you even doing here anyway?" The owner of the rooster leads out a sand color cougar with calm yellow eyes on a thick chain link leash.

"They told me the animals healed after the match." Ash says with heavy desperation.

"These are survival endurance matches, only the winning trainer's remaining animal's are healed." The cougar is set loose into the fighting area and prowls around the perimeter fearlessly while the foaming dog barks in its corner.

"Don't tell me your one of the contestants."

Ash looks to him for the first time he's older, but not so much aged, as he is distinguished.

"I need the money. I didn't know it was like this."

The dog charges forward with its fur raised on edge, but the cougar answers with a swift paw to its face. The claws leave their mark, but the dog has locked its jaw onto the cougar's arm. It brings its free claw down in a savage strike that gauges the terrier's eye out. It whelps in horrendous pain, but its teeth only dig deeper into the cat.

The room is on edge, "I hope you know what you're doing kid." Ash's eyes begin to water up; he can't help but think of the town stray he used to feed before it went missing. The cougar crunches down into the cranium of the dog and pries its upper jaw off of his arm. Red saliva spews out, as its mandibles are torn loose, the fight has now left the dog. Blood spreads across the arena floor and Ash feels sick to his stomach. Cries of joy consume the warehouse, while other hang their head low in disappointment. Staff members go around collecting side bets in the audience including the gentleman Ash was talking to.

Something inaudible is said over the PA system and the crowd pushes its way over to the second arena. Ash remains motionless in his seat watching as everyone goes through the motions as if nothing happened. The gentleman comes back and hands Ash five silver coins, "Will that be able to help?"

Ash stays quiet. "I'm sure I could speak with someone about getting you out of this." The man seems trustworthy, but Ash isn't willing to rely on a stranger again so soon. The PA system cuts back on with another indiscernible announcement; he only takes away one comprehendible word that is left ringing in his ears, Red.

"Hey, are you listening to me kid?"

Ash looks up to him and wipes the wetness from his face, "I can do this."

The staff doors opens and the worker from earlier walks towards the bleachers gesturing Ash.

"What's your name kid? Mine's Olman."

"They call - me Red." Saying it between hiccups wasn't how he would have preferred.

"My money's on you." He says with a wink.