Chapter 6 – Issues

Apparently, my shellder could be very cooperative indeed if it was in the mood. Or maybe it was a consequence of nearly getting boiled alive, but I wasn't too fussed about the technical details.

After the brief incident at the kitchen – the cooks were still unhappy that I had tried to make clam chowder using a shellder of all things in their domain – General Harding and I hauled the grouchy shellder back to the training area, while Adrienne slowly followed us to make sure that we didn't get up to any mischief along the way.

For a slowbro, she sure seemed aware of her master's hyperactivity.

Anyways, the results of the training session were definitely impressive. Well, calling it training might have been stretching the term's meaning, since all we actually did was present the shellder with targets for it to attack. By doing that, we managed to see just what attacks it was capable of using, and the power which it could pack into its moves.

For an untrained pokemon such as my shellder, knowing more than one move was supposedly considered to be impressive. So when it actually managed to demonstrate a Surf attack and an Aurora Beam, the two of us were more than just a little surprised. General Harding claimed that he shouldn't have been that shocked, since it had been under Babamon's care for about six months already, and so it most probably had picked up some moves from any of the other water pokemon in the vault.

A shellder that probably hated me, and which knew a little more than it had been expected to know... maybe I should have been apprehensive over such circumstances, but I decided to happily ignore all that.

After all, I was sure that in due time, the two of us would get along great. Hopefully, that is.

xxx

Eight p.m. found General Harding and myself at a greasy spoon located at about a five minute walking distance from his apartment. To celebrate the shellder's progress, he had decided to take us out to dinner after port control had closed for the day, and he claimed that the dingy diner he had chosen was actually a haven for good food. From what I could taste, his faith had not been misplaced – the fried noodles were actually quite delicious.

"So, you're a very lucky guy, you know? Few people get a starter that knows one move well, let alone two," he said, as he began digging into his food.

"Like you said, it probably picked up the Surf from something else in the vault... I'll need to work on talking to it, though," I glanced at the shellder, which was still refusing to look me in the eye since the incident at the mess hall.

"Ah, given enough time, you'll understand it."

The shellder opened up its shell to redirect its gaze from the dish of raw, minced fish that had been placed before it, and blew a raspberry in my direction.

"Him, then," he laughed with his mouth full of rice.

"You could understand that?"

"Kid, I've been going at the training game for at twelve years now. Of course I'd understand basic pokemon speech! And the water affinity helps, too," he shrugged. "Most of us who've been training for at least five years get the knack of interpreting pokemon speech, anyway."

"What about those who aren't matched to their pokemon's type?" I asked, my curiosity piqued – not much was known about the affinities, since the government was predictably tight-lipped about them.

"Well, there are translators sold in most major electronics stores – headphones for the trainer or collars for the pokemon. But since the banning of competitive pokemon battling, they've pretty much fallen out of popularity," he answered, vacantly twirling his spoon about as he considered the question. "Of course, most of the trainers who kept their teams after the revolution probably understand them by now, so there you have it."

"Hmm... so I'll either have to wait or fork out cash to get what he's saying?" I frowned – five years was a long time, especially in my case.

"The military does have the means and resources to give you cochlear implants that translate pokemon speech, but I only know of two people who got them before. Rumor has it that the chips make your hearing a little more sensitive, since the chips are designed to also pick up frequencies beyond the usual human hearing range."

I looked at my shellder, which was slurping up the minced fish with great relish. He stopped, as though he was aware that I was watching him, and began eyeballing me back out of the corner of his eyes. Stubborn thing...

"You might want to eat instead of just having a staring match here, you know. The food doesn't get better when it's cold, mind you," General Harding chided me, while brandishing his spoon like a pistol. "And who knows just where this place's reputation will go after that!"

I shook my head, snapping out of my daze, "Sorry, but I guess today was a little... dramatic for my taste."

"Says the guy who tried to boil his starter pokemon. Shit, I don't think anyone's threatened a shellder with being turned into soup before..."

"Hey, I needed to make him talk somehow! And besides, I wouldn't have allowed him to get boiled alive."

"That's what they all say," sang General Harding, as he stirred more chilli sauce into his fried rice. "But you get points for creativity, kid. Keep up the good work, without threatening pokemon next time, alright?"

"Yes, sir," I shrugged, shoving some noodles into my mouth. Hmm, they did taste good, though they were considerably spicy.

The three of us ate in silence for a while, until General Harding looked up from his food with an expression suggesting that he'd just realized something.

"What are you going to call him?"

"Eh?"

"You can't be calling it 'shellder' all the time now, can you? That would be so boring!" The little bivalve pokemon made a soft trilling sound, causing General Harding to nod. "Yup, even he agrees – a name would be good."

"Hmm... Shelly?"

If the shellder's eyes had been lasers, I probably would have been disintegrated in my seat.

"Oh, for the love of... You tried to cook him, and now you want to give him the lamest possible name for one of his species? Try harder, kid!"

I looked back at him – the shellder, not General Harding – and tried to think of a name for the stubborn little thing. He looked me in the eye, with an expression that suggested his supreme dissatisfaction over my lack of originality in naming him.

"You're the silent type, so I guess I could do something with that... Jake?" I squinted at the shellder, but it seemed indifferent to the suggestion.

"Interesting... where did that come from?"

"A book series I used to read back when I was in high school – Jake was this quiet guy in the story."

A dull, disinterested sound that amazingly resembled a fart came from the shellder.

"... You probably don't want the translation of that one."

"Indeed. Silent, silent, silent..." I mulled over the thought as I chewed my food. "Maybe something to do with being silent."

"Danny?"

This time, the shellder actually spewed some water in his face. He raised an eyebrow, even as he pulled up his shirt and began mopping his face dry – I was definitely not checking out his abs then, thank you very much.

"He says that if the two of us can't decide on a name for him, he'd rather be called 'shellder' for the rest of his life. Or yours, depending on who dies first."

"Good to know I have a realist as my starter. Hmm..."

Then, a name floated up to the surface of my mind.

"How does Silas sound?" I asked the two of them, eliciting a curious look from General Harding. The shellder moved about from left to right a little, rolling his eyes in his shell. I could have sworn it looked as if he was shrugging, but he suddenly stuck his tongue out and wrapped it around my hand.

"What the-"

"Looks like you have a deal there," said General Harding happily. "Most shellder try to give handshakes with their tongue."

"So you like it?"

"Well, it's a cool name..."

"Not you, sir - I was asking him."

My starter pokemon made a sound that suggested exasperation, and stuck his tongue out again, shaking my hand with it this time.

"So it's settled, then!"

And that was how my starter pokemon wound up being named Silas.

xxx

"So... what made you settle on Silas?" General Harding asked, as we walked out of the diner after settling our bill. "Not exactly a common name, that one."

"I was thinking of the word 'silence', and got Silas instead."

"Homophones, eh? Good one."

"Sir, do you have a shellder?" I asked him, recalling a question that had come to mind when I first received Silas.

He stopped for a moment to think about the question, "Well, I did – Lala is a cloyster now. Then there's the two that Adrienne and Adrian used to evolve."

"Adrienne has a brother? And why did you name your shellder... that?"

"Twin, actually. He evolved into a slowking, though. Doesn't say much and prefers to sleep a lot more, so I don't release him from his pokeball that often," he replied, with some amusement in his voice. "And where I come from, we call shellfish 'lala'."

"Okay... Anyway, could you give me advice on how to train Silas? Maybe let him meet your cloyster someday?" I asked eagerly – maybe some time with his genetic relative might do him a power of good.

"No problem, kid. Remind me someday, and I'll take you to visit Lala."

"He's not here?"

"Nope – Lorelei's taking care of him for now, since her dewgong needed some company."

Just then, we reached his apartment. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a ring of keys, and twirled it around his finger.

"So... go back to the hostel and sleep tight, rookie. Tomorrow's going to be a training day – for real, this time."

"Got it, sir."

"Stop calling me that," he said, sticking out a hand and messing up my already untidy hair. "Nights, kid."

"Goodnight, sir."

xxx

When I got back to my little hostel room, I let Silas the shellder out of his pokeball. He materialized on my bed with a flash of red light, and briefly looked around the room. Turning to me, he gave me a curious look and stuck out his tongue.

"Well... it's almost time for me to go to bed, so I decided to let you out of your ball for the night," I said uncertainly, rubbing the back of my head. "Probably would be more comfortable for you, right?"

He made a soft whistling sound, to which I shook my head, "I don't understand what you say now, but hopefully in time I will. Anyway, I wanted to apologize – sorry for almost boiling you just now."

Silas shut his shell, though he did leave his tongue sticking out.

"You're free to sleep anywhere in the room, so I'll leave you to it."

Changing out of my uniform and getting into the baggy T-shirt and boxers which were my makeshift pyjamas, I moved him over to the foot of the bed, and got on it. However, as soon as I was lying flat, Silas scooted over somehow – he had no legs, for goodness' sakes – and plopped himself down on my chest.

"Umm, could you sleep somewhere else?" I asked him, though I honestly didn't mind it too much as long as I didn't get impaled in my sleep.

He didn't even bother giving me and answer – he kept his shell shut and withdrew his tongue, and within seconds, I could hear a soft sound not unlike muffled snoring coming from him. Even as my own eyelids began to grow heavier, I reached out and patted him on his shell.

"Goodnight, Silas."

xxx

Morning came way too early for me to appreciate it – being in the military hadn't helped me to become any more of a morning person – and before Silas knew it, he had been recalled to his pokeball as I made my way out of my room. Locking the door and making sure that I hadn't accidentally left my keys inside, I made my way to port control, which was as quiet as it had been the day before.

"Morning, kid," she called out, looking almost like a mantis in an electric pink outfit. "General Harding told me to pass you a message."

"Oh?" I stopped short of pressing the button that would have summoned the elevator. "What did he say?"

"He told me to ask you to head straight to the training area," she said, as she sipped from her coffee mug. "And he hopes that you packed an extra set of clothes."

"Crap, extra clothes?" I sighed – of all the things I didn't have on me, it was an extra set of clothes. "Thanks anyway, miss."

"Got it... now get out of my sight and let me get personal with the coffee."

xxx

As it turned out, training that morning consisted of exercises to improve Silas' proficiency with Surf and Aurora Beam. He was placed in a circular training ring with several moving targets at its periphery, and instructed to hit as many as he could within five minutes. A low-powered force field surrounded it, preventing any of the water and ice attacks from damaging the rest of the floor. At the end of the brief session, Silas seemed a little winded, but otherwise looked game for more training.

"Sir, why would I need extra clothes for today's training?" I asked, as I helped him to take down any targets that Silas had unintentionally broken – there were three of them.

"Ah, yes," he beamed at me. "We're done with non-reactive targets, so you get to practice your dodging skills!"

"... You're serious?"

"When am I not serious?" He smirked. "Well, I guess 'most of the time' would be a decent answer, but that's beside the point. Get in there with Silas!"

Even as I stepped into the training ring, Silas seemed to perk up at the thought of being able to attack me without being punished. I swear, the little bugger's eyes visibly lit up as I stood before him in the ring.

"Alright, Silas - your sadist of a trainer is going to be your target now, and for both of your sakes, I hope this turns out well. Fire at will, Silas!" General Harding called, as he flipped the switch that sent the force field back up over the training ring.

Almost immediately, I found an Aurora Beam being sent my way. Dropping into a roll and getting out of the attack's way, I had barely managed to get back on my feet before Silas sent a Surf attack in my direction. Needless to say, the wide-reaching move soaked me through, causing General Harding to start laughing uproariously.

"You'll need to move faster than that, kid!" He said, barely managing to speak coherently thanks to his laughing fit. "Slap some Marmite on it!"

I leaped over the excited pokemon's back as he fired two more Aurora Beams at me, and flipped him over. He let out a shrill cry of protest, and spewed out a mini water wave that nearly knocked me off my feet.

"Sir," I called out. "How long do I have to do this?"

"Hmm, let's see... I guess you're it until I've been sufficiently amused," he grinned. "But anyways, this is a good warm-up exercise for your own training, later."

"Which involves?" I asked, doing a sort of mutated pirouette to evade yet another Aurora Beam – Silas seemed to be quite fond of those.

"Don's coming down to assess your skills in a one-to-one fight," he relied nonchalantly, as he casually juggled two small dumbbells. "We need to make sure you can actually hold your ground against a competent opponent."

"What about Colonel Lowe?" I shot back through gritted teeth, as I flipped Silas over yet again, only to have him right himself using his tongue.

"Lowe's a fat bastard who couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag. So dear old Donnie's going to see if you could survive out there," he shrugged, as he dropped the dumbbells and began stretching.

"I wasn't aware that we were we on a nickname basis, Zachary," Don's distinctive voice came from the training area's doorway. "I see you've got the kid hard at work already."

"I'll ignore the sheer number of lewd comments I could derive from that sentence," General Harding replied, as he began doing push-ups. "So, anytime you're ready, Don."

"It's cool – not quite as amusing as seeing Kylie trying to dodge her pikachu's Thundershocks, though," Don remarked cheerfully, while he cracked his knuckles.

"I'd forgotten about that incident," laughed my decidedly insane superior officer, as he switched to doing one-handed push-ups. "Alright, Don! The kid's all yours!"

Silas seemed quite disappointed when the force field went down and he was told to stop attacking me, but he perked up again once Don assured him that I'd be ending up on the floor by the end of my training. He hauled himself over and plopped down on the ground next to General Harding, who was busy doing some crunches.

"So, kid," Don said, as we stepped onto a foam mat that he had dragged out of a storage closet. "Do you think you're any good at martial arts?"

"I think I'll survive, sir," I replied apprehensively. "I'm more inclined to run than to stay and fight."

"Wise choice," was all he said before he lashed out with an open palm, very nearly hitting me smack on my chest. I barely managed to dodge the blow, and before I knew it, he was in the air. "Look out below!"

Reflexively, I dropped to the ground and swept a leg under Don as he landed. Having aborted the aerial kick that had been his original plan, he managed to avoid being knocked down by flipping himself over in mid-air and landing with a graceful tumble. Within the blink of an eye, he was back on his feet and dishing out a series of blows in rapid succession.

I gritted my teeth and tried desperately to parry or evade his blows. Some of the punches and chops met their mark, and they damn well stung. Occasionally, when he left me an opening – I suspect it was deliberate – I tried to hit him, but to no avail. I swear, the man moved like a fucking hitmonchan!

"Good show!" He nodded with a steely glint in his eye. "Now take that!"

What he did next happened so fast that it probably left afterimages burned onto the back of my eyes. Don spun around and caught me in the gut with his leg, sending me flying off the foam mat that we were sparring on. I landed in a doubled-over heap some ten feet from the mat, and for a moment, I almost thought I saw skid marks leading to my present position.

"Hmm, decent at blocking attacks, but terrible offensive," noted Don, as he gracefully stepped away from the mat – he hadn't even broken a sweat. "Maybe you could get some pointers from Moira Hew."

"Does everyone know her?" I asked, panting as I got to my feet and trying to ignore the throbbing in my stomach. "So she's a crazy driver, engineer, and now fighter?"

"Well, she used to be a general here," General Harding answered for Don. "Before Fen got his present rank, he was her assistant."

"Yup, steel," confirmed Don, as he began prancing about with a lance. "She claims that defence is the best offence, so she tends to fight like that – redirects her opponent's attacks back at them."

"Remember her nickname, Don?" chuckled my boss, as he picked Silas off the ground. "She certainly deserved it, though."

"Of course – 'the human wobbuffet'."

I was speechless. First I had been attacked by my own pokemon – with my superior's permission! And now, they were telling me that the loony driver called Aunty Moira was apparently a decent fighter.

Wonders would never cease here, or so it seemed.

xxx

"Sir?" I asked General Harding, as we made our way back to his office. "Could I ask you a question?"

"Eh?"

"Was there a break-in at the television station last night?"

He looked at me curiously, "Now where did you hear about that particular rumor?"

"Oh, it's a rumor?" I blinked – those people in messy clothing had certainly seemed worried about it.

"Yes, and you still haven't answered my question."

"Well," I scratched the back of my head. "Yesterday, there were these people in crumpled clothes near the elevator. They were the ones discussing the break-in, and one of them claimed it was terrorists who did it."

He laughed, "Terrorists? I guess they must be from the communications department. Those video game geeks don't do much beyond sitting in front of computers, most days. I wouldn't be surprised if they had been discussing a video game when you overheard them."

"So it's all a hoax?"

"Put it this way, kid – we're fucking port control here. Anything heading into or out of Sinnoh via the ports gets cleared by us. If there was a break-in at the television station, we'd be among the first to know, trust me," he said with a dismissive wave of his arm. "And now, we've got just enough time to grab a quick shower before we finish the miraculously small pile of work we have to clear today."

Banishing the images that came to mind from his words to the furthest, darkest corner of my conscious mind, I nodded, "Yes, sir."

It was only much later that I realized that he hadn't actually answered my question, when the evening news was hijacked.

xxx

We had just finished our work and were down in the mess hall having a cup of coffee when it happened. There had been about thirty people in the mess hall, and the kitchen had already been closed for the day. Only drinks were still available, so we settled on black coffee to reward ourselves for a day's hard work.

"After all," General Harding had said, "if you don't reward yourself for work well done, no one else cares, anyway."

The large television in the mess hall was broadcasting the evening news – something about a rabid stoutland named Cujo going berserk and killing several people – when the screen suddenly went black.

"Oi, what happened to the news?"

"The thing's still on!" The mess hall's supervisor said, shrugging. "Must be a stray magnemite nearby or something like that."

True to his word, the screen came back to life with burst of flickering static. However, this time, it was not showing the news anymore.

A thin creature in a suit sat behind an ornate wooden desk, its head wrapped in what looked like a thick white stocking. It was impossible to discern the creature's facial features or identity, since we couldn't even tell if it was human to begin with – for all we knew it could have been a prop of some sort. Our doubts were dispelled when it began speaking, though; it was definitely human, though it was using a voice modifier that made it impossible to discern its gender based on speech.

"Greetings, people of Sinnoh," the creature bowed its head slightly. "I would like to apologize for interrupting your evening news bulletin, but I'm afraid that the topic I shall be discussing is of particular urgency and couldn't be delayed any longer."

Loud murmuring and curious whispers became audible in the mess hall, as everyone came to the realization that somehow, our supposedly secure broadcast network had been hacked into.

"You may call me Slenderman," continued the creature, spreading its hands. "And now, since I think I have your attention, I shall begin."

"I am a representative of a group of pokemon trainers. Note that I said 'pokemon trainers', and not 'former pokemon trainers'. We are considerably dissatisfied with the way the government is running things, and so we decided that it was time for us to sit down and have a little chat with you happy people out there."

Slenderman leaned back in its seat, "As you know, pokemon training has been banned for eight years already, since the revolution. However, we have continued to practice the noble art of pokemon battling in secret, despite the severe penalties that would be imposed on us if we were to get caught."

A pregnant pause; everyone present in the mess hall knew exactly what happened when a person was tried for illegal pokemon training.

"So, we decided that the peoples of Earth do not deserve to have their rights denied in such a manner any longer. During the last three years, we have managed to identify a significant number of trainers whose sympathies lay with us, and so we shall be giving you all a... show tonight."

"At midnight today, Kanto Standard Time, we shall be broadcasting a pokemon battle for your viewing pleasure. It will not be a rerun of some long-finished battle, oh no – it will be a video of a battle being fought in real time. Two of our more talented trainers will be pitting their teams against each other, and we do hope you'll enjoy the show."

"So... just what is the point of this, you might ask?" Slenderman leaned forward until its face was mere inches from the camera's lens. "I don't think you'd answer that question, so I shall do it for you – we simply want the world to wake up."

"The government's reasons for banning competitive pokemon training were flimsy at best, and now, we have uncovered proof that they had... other things in mind when they dissolved the leagues. Trust me when I say that their plan for the peoples of Earth is not pleasant at all, and that it was the fear of pokemon trainers which motivated them to make training illegal, nothing else," it moved back and reclined in its seat, folding its hands over its chest.

Slenderman cleared its throat, before adjusting its collar, "We know that the government is listening to me speak. And of course, we have taken measures to ensure that they can't track us down. So to the people and digimon in government... here is our deal. Tonight, we'll stage our little show for the people – trust me when I say that you won't be able to jam our broadcast even if you tried. If pokemon training is not restored to its former status within six months... let's just say that we'll be seeing you again in one year's time if nothing is done."

"Pokemon training is not a privilege that you can limit to those with affinities for it – many in the past have risen to incredible heights despite their lack of an affinity. Just take a look at the likes of Blue Oak, Cynthia Elias, and Alder Buchanan, and you'll see what I mean."

Cocking its head to one side, Slenderman offered its viewers a salute, "So I do hope that you'll enjoy the show tonight, and that we'll meet under more... favourable circumstances next time."

The screen went black once again, and a terrific uproar broke out in the mess hall. When the news came back on, no one was paying attention to it anymore, despite the news anchor's frazzled appearance and frantic reassurances that Slenderman was merely making empty threats. Of course there wouldn't be any 'show' on at midnight, and of course the government didn't negotiate with lawbreakers that hijacked television broadcasts.

When I turned to look at General Harding's reaction to the mysterious broadcast, I saw that a shadow had fallen over his face. He noticed me staring at him, and shook his head slowly. Draining his cup of coffee, he stood up and left the mess hall without saying a word.