Shadows and Ash--Ghost in the Machine Chapter 3: Ghost in the Machines, a pokémon fanfic

Chapter 3, everyone—I was planning on having this and what is going to be the last chapter together, but rereading it, it works better as its own chapter. So have an extra week of Ash and Darkrai antics. Again, thanks to everyone who has invested in this story thus far. :D

Cutesaralisa, thanks for the review! True—but fortunately, I don't think this Rotom has Cresselia on its mailing list, so Darkrai should be safe from her. :)

Thor94, thanks for the review! Thank you, I'm glad you like it—I thought for a while that those two would work well together, but there didn't seem to be any existing stories that didn't take place after the movie. Which, I suppose, is why we write. :) Mwahaha, yes—Rotom strike me as the gremlins of the Pokémon world, since they're ghosts that take over appliances. Sort of—the passing reference to being electrocuted generating new powers was the reference, although I suppose Trevor helped to inspire Ratty (although I've always loved Rattata). Ash can't fully understand Pokémon in this fic, with the exception of Darkrai—as Ratty said, tone is everything. :)

Ash had to be honest—he was expecting Ratty and Darkrai to be tripping over each other in an attempt to one-up one another.

Not so—as soon as the Rotom had made itself known again, they had declared a truce and went after it—Ratty went low, Darkrai went high, and soon the ghostly lightbulb was forced to admit that it was outclassed.

Unfortunately, its idea of fixing that had involved Professor Oak's washer—they had gotten hosed quite quickly before recovering. Darkrai nailed it with a Sucker Punch while Ratty slipped in the puddles, only for Darkrai to get hit again with a close-range Hydro Pump, slamming him into the far wall.

"Wet," Darkrai spat, pulling his now-soggy white hair out of his face. "Wet again."

Ash dodged into another room when the Rotom turned his way.

"Far! Farfetch'd!"

"I've got an idea!" Ash told Faraday, flapping along frantically after Ash.

He hoped it was a good one too, because a crash told him that the Rotom had abandoned the washer just like it had abandoned the fan, and he knew it was much faster without an appliance. He dodged into a room and slammed the door, hoping the Rotom couldn't go through walls.

Unfortunately, it could.

It zipped over his head and slammed into the refrigerator just as Ash realized he was in Professor Oak's kitchen.

"Aw, Muk," Ash muttered, using one of the curses he had picked up from Darkrai. Faraday jumped up and whacked him on the head with his leek for his trouble.

Ash flung open the door and ran back down the hall, narrowly dodging the Blizzard aimed at them, tried a different door—

Success!

This was where the professor kept his Pokéballs!

Ash grabbed one and turned—

Just as fire engulfed the door.

"Far!" Faraday yelped as the Rotom forced the door open. It had taken over Professor Oak's toaster oven, apparently.

"Uh, uh," Ash noised, panicking as he glanced around—there wasn't any way out of the room!

Except for the window.

"Faraday! Break that window!" Ash commanded, pointing.

"Far! Farfetch'd!" Faraday squawked, spreading his wings in front of Ash and staying resolutely between him and the Rotom. Of course—Rotom might attack Ash if he didn't.

But it was warming up an attack anyway, so the whole point might be rendered moot.

And then something big and black loomed behind it.

"Ding-dong—Avon calling."

And then Darkrai slammed a fist into the Rotom's head.

Okay, hearing the metal crunch beneath his Sucker Punch had been satisfying.

Unfortunately, it simply signaled the fact that the Rotom had dodged out of the appliance again.

"You can't defeat me!" it crowed, zinging around again. "I'm made of electricity!"

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Darkrai asked politely—if you can't win by straight force, go for snark. "You're made of stupidity?"

"No, no," the Raticate said from its perch on Darkrai's back—it was better than waiting for it to hobble after him. "He said he wanted to be fricasseed."

Not that good, but Darkrai's Taunt had done the trick—the Rotom paused, obviously seething, and got a face-full of Ominous Wind for its trouble.

"Daa! I'll show you!" the Rotom spat, before zipping out the open window.

Open window?

"Didn't there use to be a kid in here?" Darkrai asked, looking around—no Ash.

"Oh no," the Raticate moaned, prompting Darkrai to glance out the window. There was Ash, running across the lawn.

And there was the Rotom, the dull roar of a motor alerting them to the fact that it had found another machine and was going to use it to mow Ash down.

"Get out there!" the Raticate ordered. "Now! NOW!"

Darkrai was already halfway across the lawn, and slammed into the Rotom before it could reach its target. The Raticate leaped off of him and landed next to the Rotom, sinking its teeth into a tire.

"OW! No fair!" the Rotom screamed, zipping out of the mower and angling towards the lab.

Darkrai intercepted. "Oh no you don't—no more gadgets, no more tricks: just one good old-fashioned beat-down."

And with that, he used Knock-Off, sending it slamming into the ground, where the Raticate followed up with Assurance, sending it further into the ground. Darkrai dropped straight down, slamming it further down with Poison Jab.

When he pulled his fist back, though, something small and round dropped into the Rotom-shaped hole, sucking it in with a flash of red light.

Darkrai turned to glare at Ash, who was watching the thrown Pokéball attentively.

"And what was that for?" he spat.

Ash waited until the ball pinged before answering. "It's captured. It's in a Pokéball. It's not a problem anymore, right?"

"Oh, I don't know—property damage, attempted murder, those things ring a bell?"

The Raticate nodded, surprisingly.

Ash crossed over and picked the ball up out of the hole. "Yeah, but it's in a Pokéball now—"

"That orb you've got in your hand doesn't mean a thing."

"Yes it does," Ash stressed, looking at him. "This thing isn't nice, but it isn't worth having its death on your hands."

One more wouldn't hurt.

Darkrai glared, more at the tiny mental voice than Ash, then hmphed and turned away.

"You're not keeping it," he ordered as he floated off.

"Of course not," Ash said. "I'll put it in Professor Oak's office—then Faraday and Ratty can go back and it'll be like nothing ever happened."

"Does he really think the Professor won't notice all the damage?" Darkrai heard the bird ask.

"Humans are remarkably dense that way," the rat said.

"I bet Professor Oak might actually be happy to have this," Ash mused, looking into the transparent top of the Pokéball as he headed towards the lab. "After all, it isn't a common Pokémon, right?"

"And how are you going to alert him to the fact that it's his now?" Darkrai asked.

"I'll leave a note."

"He'd recognize your handwriting."

"And?"

Darkrai sighed. "Hang on—I'll help you forge the note."

"You can write?"

"Do you want my help or not?"

"All right, all right…."

Darkrai rolled his eyes and shook his head. Idiot kid.

"Next time I want to watch a movie, I'm going to a drive-in and leaving you home," Darkrai informed Ash as he drifted after him.

"You'd miss me."

"Like an oblivious man misses the point."

"Did you just insult me?"

"See? Right there."

"Play nice, children," the Raticate sighed.

That ship had sailed long ago, Darkrai figured.

But he might as well.