Shadows and Ash--Ghost in the Machine Chapter 2: Professor Oak's Lab, a pokémon fanfic

Chapter 2 (out of 3, I believe) of this, our little Ash and Darkrai short story, in which the little rotter is revealed and we learn about Pokémon age in this interpretation—a silver medal on a collar means the Pokémon is too old to battle.

Thanks for the review, Cutesaralisa! Yes, Darkrai's reactions will be something to see….

And thank you everyone who's invested in this story by means of reading, faving, and following—I hope this chapter pleases as well as the first. :)

So without further ado, presenting Chapter 2 with its references to Dragonsrule18's fanfic "When One Door Closes, Two More Open" (a really great read), the movie Gremlins, and the infamous Porygon episode of Pokémon. And we finally get to see what happened to the TV as referenced in the summary. :)

Darkrai entered the house first, followed by Ash, still armed with the flashlight.

"I still don't see why I had to go in first," Darkrai groused.

"Because you're the big bad scary Legendary," Ash told him. "Now check the house, before the ghost has a chance to get an axe or something."

Darkrai scoffed, but obliged, drifting into the kitchen as Ash clung to his tattered-cloak tail, shining his flashlight everywhere in an attempt to detect an ambush.

Darkrai, meanwhile, had checked the cabinets and the refrigerator, and with the exception of a lonely Ho-ho (who was quickly introduced to the Twinkie in Darkrai's stomach), nothing seemed out of place. He said as much, and prepared to drift into the rest of the house.

"Wait, what about the microwave?" Ash asked.

"Are you kidding me? Nothing dangerous or axe-wielding fits in a microwave," Darkrai scolded, reaching for the device with the intention of demonstrating.

Before his claws could touch it, however, the whole thing exploded in a shower of sparks, shorting the lights as they yelped and dodged back.

And then a new source of light joined Ash's flashlight, cackling madly as it pinged around and then out of the room.

"What was that?" Ash wailed, clinging to Darkrai's back.

Darkrai had a vague idea. "That—is dead meat," he declared, heading straight for the living room and the television.

The television was sparking madly—Darkrai didn't give it a chance to jump out. Shadow Ball straight to the screen.

"Mom's going to kill me," Ash moaned upon seeing the smoking husk.

And then the little monster Darkrai expected popped out, obviously intent on making a break for it before Darkrai unleashed an Ominous Wind.

"What is that?" Ash squawked.

That—looked like an orange lightbulb with a point on its head, surrounded by blue electricity.

"That? That's nothing of importance."

"Oh, like you're a real looker yourself!" the lightbulb snapped—and then vanished out the window with a yelp when it saw Darkrai readying another attack.

"What was that?" Ash asked again after a moment.

"That was a Rotom," Darkrai decided to explain. "They're an Electric-Ghost Pokémon that like to possess appliances and cause trouble." He leaned out of the window. "The good news is: it's long-gone now."

"Don't you think we should track it down so it doesn't cause any more trouble?"

"In a word: no."

"But we have to! What if it fries Professor Oak's lab?"

"What's this 'we' business? Last I checked, you were about worthless back there!"

"Hey, some of us are trying to sleep here!"

Darkrai looked down to see that a troupe of irritated Bellsprout had planted themselves in Delia's small garden.

And then the back door slammed.

"Oh, great—where are you going?" Darkrai called.

"I'm going to go stop that thing," Ash declared, stomping away towards the Professor's lab.

Darkrai groaned and rubbed his face. Idiot kid….

"I suppose if he dies, I don't have to deal with him anymore," Darkrai mused.

He detected concentrated ire aimed at him, originating from the garden beneath the window—of course; most Pokémon took offense to letting a young human go and get himself killed. "Fine, fine! I'm going, see?"

"Try not to make too much noise when you get back," one of the Bellsprout muttered.

"May a troupe of hungry Fearow eat you," Darkrai groused as he drifted off after Ash.

"There, see? All that worrying for naught. The whole town's quiet."

"Yeah," Ash said.

"Don't tell me you're disappointed."

"I was kind of hoping for some disturbance at least—I need practice for being a Pokémon master!"

"And what are you going to practice with? You don't even have a Pokémon to your name!"

Ash shone his light on Darkrai. "And what are you, chopped liver?"

"Joy, he's picking up my vocal patterns. I'm not your Pokémon, dunce!"

"But if I ask nicely, will you fight that Rotom for me?"

"Good gracious, no."

"Why not?"

"I'm not fond of being electrocuted."

Ash gave that some thought as they continued up the hill towards the Professor's lab. "Hey," he noised suddenly. "If I get electrocuted, do you think it'd give me awesome powers?"

"If you got electrocuted, you'd be lucky if it jumpstarted your one brain cell."

"Hey, that's not nice."

"Oh good, he picks up on it. And look: all quiet on the northern front."

The words had hardly left Darkrai's mouth when all the lights in the Professor's lab flickered.

"Ha! See? That Rotom's in there," Ash declared. "It probably can't resist all those electrical doodads the Professor's got."

"I'm going to kill that thing," Darkrai muttered.

"Well, come on then!" Ash said, dodging to the nearest window. "Let's get started!"

Ratty, Delia's Raticate, blinked at the sudden flicker of lights.

Probably some Electric Pokémon letting off steam, he thought. It wasn't anything to worry about—yet.

Although he had to admit, he wasn't sure what he was going to do if it did turn out to be something. He was ancient, by Raticate standards—arthritis was what Oak called the stiffening in his joints, and his fur was going gray, matching the silver medal on his collar. He gave himself a few more years, to be honest—he was already trying to figure out where Delia would plant him.

His eyesight, however, wasn't failing, and so he noticed when the lights flickered again and then went out.

"Woah—what just happened?" Delia's other Pokémon, Faraday the Farfetch'd yelped, apparently jolted awake by the flicker. At least it wasn't a seizure or something like that—maybe it was a Porygon doing these lights. He had heard about something like that occurring a while back on that box Delia stared at.

"Some Pokémon having a lark," Ratty told him. "Go back to sleep."

Faraday was much younger than Ratty, and much more timid. Ratty had grown out of his timidness when he became a trainer's Pokémon—he had to be fearless in order to defend Delia. Faraday had been captured towards the end of the War, and therefore didn't have to develop a killer instinct. On occasion, it was just plain annoying, but Ratty did work to keep Faraday calm, and succeeded most days.

It wasn't working tonight. "Ratty…I think I heard something moving."

"You do realize there are other Pokémon here, right?"

"No, I mean—aah! I see it! It just looked in the window!"

Ratty looked to see a tattered shadow duck away from the window. He heard muted voices—burglars.

"Use Aerial Ace on that lock," Ratty commanded.

"What? But won't the Professor be mad at us?"

"He'll be even madder if we don't stop those intruders. Now do it."

Faraday complied, and Ratty nudged the now-broken door open.

He grunted in pain as he connected with the floor—going up and down the stairs, and even getting on and off the couch, was really starting to pain him. He had been spending most of his days lazing in the sun rather than tackle the stairs—he comforted himself by knowing he was protecting the ground floor.

As he was right now.

"They're opening the window in the next room," Faraday hissed in his ear as he alighted next to him. Faraday might be fearful, but he wasn't a coward—he'd help Ratty fight, and could hear where the Raticate's failing ears wouldn't.

"Come on then," Ratty commanded, carefully maneuvering into the next room and peering in. Yes, there was the tattered shadow now, holding open a window as a smaller figure squeezed in. Ratty coiled to pounce as the larger figure squeezed through the window and the smaller figure turned on a flashlight—

He quickly arrested the motion when the light revealed the figure. "Ash!?" Ratty squawked, recognizing his trainer's son.

"Ash?" Faraday asked. "What's he doing here?"

"Ratty! Faraday!" Ash greeted, oblivious. "Hi!"

Ratty crossed his front paws like he had seen Delia do and scowled at the boy. "You are in big trouble, young man."

Ratty, like all Pokémon, had entertained the notion that young humans could understand Pokémon. It was silly, true, but he had discovered that they most certainly understood the tone used. Ash looked properly reticent.

He prepared to launch into a tirade when Faraday reminded him that there was a fourth party in the room.

"Ratty! What is that thing!?"

Ratty glanced behind Ash, saw the huge black thing looming—

He launched himself at the thing, fangs at the ready, sinking them into the arm that rose to block. He was flung into a row of cabinets, but quickly readied himself for another dash—

Ash jumped in the way, prompting him to skid to a halt.

"No! Ratty! What are you doing? Darkrai's a friend!"

Ratty felt an eye twitch. "What?" he asked flatly.

Ash, meanwhile, was looking at the black thing, which was cradling its injured arm. "Are you okay?"

"No," it responded, in a voice that made some deep part of Ratty's core tremble—Faraday too, judging by the way he was now glued to his side. Ratty, meantime, was pleased to see that he had drawn blood.

"We'll get you fixed up. Are you okay, Ratty?"

Ratty decided not to dignify that with a response, instead opting for more pressing matters. "What is that thing, and why is it with you?"

"That 'thing' has a name, you bubonic beast," the black thing spat.

Apparently it was also old, to make such a reference. And a Pokémon, Ratty noted now. "Then out with it."

"No—you didn't ask nicely."

"This is Darkrai," Ash said, apparently having caught the gist of the conversation. "Darkrai, this is Ratty and Faraday—they're my Mom's Pokémon."

"And I care because?"

"How do you know this…this thing?" Ratty asked, before reminding himself that Ash didn't speak Pokémon.

"Oh, yeah, cheers."

Ash, meanwhile, was rummaging through the Professor's drawers. "There's medical stuff here, right?" he asked.

"Don't do that," Faraday said as he ran to Ash's side, current fear suspended by the lack of action and the imminence of Ash hurting himself. "You'll get a handful of something sharp and then where will you be?"

"We'll look at Ratty too—could someone get the lights?"

"He's telling you not to stick your hands in there, moron," the thing called Darkrai grumbled. "You'll cut yourself."

"Much as I appreciate you translating, don't talk to the boy," Ratty snarled, positioning himself between Ash and Darkrai.

"Oh yes, I'm going to be scared of a little rat."

"This rat will hand your head to you if you don't shut up."

"That's okay," Ash muttered, still checking drawers. "No one get the lights—I'll just bump around in the dark, quietly injuring—hey, here we go!"

Ratty half-turned his head to see Ash hold some sort of medical kit up—

Just as the lights flashed on.

"Gee, thanks," Ash muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"No problem, kid!"

Something small and orange pinged around in the room, sending everyone into a tizzy. Faraday especially—Ash had to grab him to keep him from flying around in a panic.

"Darkrai, get it!" Ash ordered, struggling to keep Faraday still and his wings pinned.

"Who died and made you my trainer?" Darkrai asked, ducking as the thing zinged by again.

"I'll handle it," Ratty said, inhaling. As the thing ricocheted in front of him again, he spat stars at it—Swift.

The stars went straight through with no effect.

"What?" Ratty muttered, blinking. "But Swift never misses!"

"It's a Ghost type," Darkrai muttered. "Normal-type moves don't affect them."

"That's what you get, losers!" the orange thing yelled, before popping up right in front of Ratty. "URAH!"

Ratty blinked, nonplussed.

"That works both ways, you rookie," Ratty said. "Ghost moves don't affect Normal types."

And in that split second that it took for the thing to process that statement, Ratty slammed his head into the thing—Zen Headbutt.

"Ow! No fair!" it yelped, trying to zip away.

Darkrai quickly blocked its path. "Oh, you think that's bad? Try this on for size."

Ratty wasn't sure what the move was, but it smelled of Ghost typing, and it sent the thing screaming into the closet.

"That ought to take care of it," Ash said after a few charged moments, finally letting Faraday go. The Farfetch'd ran over to Ratty again before returning to Ash—a glare from Ratty had reminded him that there was still a Pokémon not to be trusted in the room.

"How are you doing, Ratty?" Ash asked, kneeling next to him.

"Fine," Ratty said flatly, stretching a limb experimentally. Nope—nothing new hurting.

Ash looked to Faraday, who nodded.

Apparently, Ash took that as a cue to go check on the black blot instead.

"Wonderful," Ratty muttered, glaring at Faraday. "Allow me to make things plain—we do not want Ash around that thing."

"Sorry," Faraday muttered, lowering his head.

Ratty looked back to see that Darkrai was actually allowing Ash to minister to its arm.

"I guess you're not as big and bad as you say you are," Ash said, grinning. "Losing to Ratty like that."

"I didn't lose," Darkrai said pointedly. "Someone interrupted the battle before I could win."

"Right."

"I'm sorry, but didn't you notice who gave the finishing blow in that last battle?"

Ratty sniffed, unimpressed. Now that Ash had cleaned the wound, he could see that the bite had been pretty clean—right up until it had flung him away, which resulted in a ragged edge. He supposed it had reacted before he could bite down harder—as it was, once Ash finished with the Potion and the bandages, it wouldn't even scar.

"There! That's done," Ash observed as he tied the knot on the bandage. Darkrai poked at it experimentally as Ash gathered up the detritus.

"Don't poke it," Ratty scolded automatically.

"I'm sorry," Darkrai said loftily. "You're telling me what to do?"

"I'm sorry," Ratty said, imitating its tone. "Do you want a bite wound that will scar?"

"Guys, quit fighting," Ash said, dumping the garbage into the trash can and putting the kit away. "There! Just get you two back in bed, get me back in bed, and Professor Oak will never know we've been here!"

The lights dimmed and strengthened again.

"I thought you beat that thing!" Faraday squawked.

"Well that's what you get for—" Darkrai began, but was cut off by the door to the closet being blown off its hinges. Ratty leapt in front of Ash and Faraday and employed Protect, deflecting the door. Darkrai sliced it in half when it ricocheted by.

"Surprise, suckers!"

Ratty blinked. It was that orange thing again, this time looking like a fan.

"I've got a few more tricks up my sparks," the thing declared. "Prepare to hurt!"

Ratty slowly exchanged glances with Darkrai. "Truce?" he asked.

"Truce," Darkrai agreed, before assuming a battle stance. "Let's unplug this freak."