Chapter 7 – Battle

To say that the tiny recreational area at the hostel was crowded that night would have been a gross understatement. It seemed that almost everyone in the hostel had gotten wind of the big battle that would be aired at midnight, if one were to judge by the fact that the room's actual floor was no longer visible.

But of course, some who were present in the room weren't even interested in pokemon battles to begin with; they were there to see if Slenderman would make good on his promise. After all, the government had all television channels and radio frequencies under its control. Couple that with the fact that pokemon could only be trained with the government's authorization, and you'd probably get the reason why the battle was such hot news.

According to one of the other hostel residents who worked with port control's communications department, the airwaves were practically saturated with porygon that night. He claimed that usually, only about three porygon would be set loose in the broadcasting network on most nights, but the government was not taking any chances with the battle broadcast. Apparently, their paranoia was so great that even the electricity cables running through the city weren't left unattended – General Kylie from the electricity department had been instructed to release several of her rotom into the cables for security purposes.

"Five more minutes!" called out one of the guys near the tiny television set, as several stragglers made it into the already overcrowded room. "Let's see if Slenderman can put his money where his mouth is!"

"Do you honestly think these... terrorists can get past the security tonight?" asked the bespectacled soldier who worked down in communications. "We can't even log on to the internet tonight, thanks to all the electronic pokemon they've got in the system."

"Digimon, too," nodded another soldier - one of his colleagues from the department. "I overheard Eldritch saying that they were sending in a couple of infermon, or something like that."

"Must be really desperate, hah!" laughed one of the few females that stayed in the hostel. "Now budge up, fat ass! You're blocking my view, and the show's about to start!"

At the exact moment when the plain-faced clock hanging above the television struck twelve, the image shown by the television began flickering at its edges. After several seconds, a buzzing noise was heard coming from the television's corroded speakers, and the screen abruptly went black.

"Where's the battle?"

"Oi!"

Some of them got up to leave, shaking their heads with disappointed expressions on their faces. However, they all made rapid about-faces when the screen suddenly came back to life, featuring none other than the strange being that called itself Slenderman.

"Good night, Earth!" nodded the white-masked creature. "I thank you for staying with us till this late hour, but alas, we couldn't broadcast earlier due to technical problems. It seems that the government does not want our little battle to be shown. Even as I speak, they are trying to disrupt this broadcast by using groups of porygon, rotom, and infermon – rest assured that we have foreseen such actions and taken the appropriate countermeasures."

The recreation room was silent as we digested its words – Slenderman had basically admitted to being a terrorist, and that the government was somehow powerless to stop the battle from being broadcast.

"And now, without further ado, I present you with our trainers, Red and Blue!"

We all pressed forward, trying to get a better view. The screen now showed two figures in robes that matched their names – blue and red – standing at opposite ends of a battle grid. Their faces were obscured by the robes' hoods, and the arena was brightly illuminated; clearly there was electricity being supplied to wherever the battle was being held.

"Electrical supply?" noted General Kylie's assistant, with some interest. "That'll end the battle fast."

"How so?" asked one of the older soldiers present, as he munched on a granola bar. "They can flip a switch on the battle?"

"The government will begin shutting off the power to suspected areas and see if the broadcast shows a blackout. It's all a matter of simple logic, really."

However, most of us weren't paying much attention to them – Blue had just released a rhydon and Red had just sent out an espeon. The towering rock-type threw its head back and bellowed, even as the espeon's eyes lit up with an eerie purple glow.

Before either pokemon could make their first moves, though, the room was plunged into darkness as the power went out.

xxx

The day after the battle broadcast was not a happy one by most counts.

It turned out that the government had ordered a nation-wide blackout when they couldn't pinpoint any probable sources for the broadcast. So instead of stopping the broadcast, they had actually shut-off the electricity that powered our television sets. Of course, that led to a whole lot of inconvenience all over Sinnoh, which was why everyone was in such a great mood that morning.

General Harding seemed to be the exception, though.

"Did you catch the beginning of the battle last night, kid?" he asked, as he buttoned up his military uniform.

"I did, sir. But it got cut-off..." I frowned.

"Ah, no worries – you'll have your chance to have pokemon battles soon enough," he said, as he tried to get his necktie done – 'tried' being the significant word here. "Curses on whoever invented the necktie! That particular motherfucker should have been hung with one..."

"Need help, sir?"

"Nah, it's cool... I got this shit," he muttered, glaring at the strip of black fabric. "Gary knows that I hate tying these, so he always undoes them to get back at me, the fat bastard."

"With all due respect, sir, what did you do to him?" I asked, half-wishing that I hadn't the moment the words left my mouth.

He shrugged, "I merely stuck all his toilet paper together with glue."

Upon noticing my dumbstruck look, he smirked at me, "Bet you didn't know that your boss was a psychopath, eh?"

"I... have no comments, sir."

"Chill out, kid! Anyways, I'll see about getting you some battles once Lorelei certifies your shellder as being compatible."

"So we'll need to go to Snowpoint to get that done?" I perked up a little at the thought of travelling to what was probably Sinnoh's most well-guarded military installation. "And why would we need her certification, anyway?"

"Yes, we'll need to go to Snowpoint to get it done. To answer your other question, shellder are partial ice-types, so she'll need to see how you work with it to judge your match. The water half seems decently matched, so we'll need to see if the ice part works out as well," he said, peering under his desk. "Did you see my left shoe anywhere?"

"It's near the window, sir," I pointed out, suddenly recalling something that had baffled me yesterday. "So... why weren't you happy when Slenderman got on the news yesterday?"

"Eh?" he paused just as he was about to put his shoe on. "What makes you say that?"

"Yesterday at the mess hall... You seemed... upset when the news was done."

"Oh, that," he huffed, running a hand through his hair. "Let's just say that... I'd rather let the past rest and live in the present. League-style battling, traditional rules... all that stuff is dead, kid. So maybe it'll be for the best if we left the past as it is."

"Surely it couldn't be that upsetting, sir?"

"Well, kid," he said, as he pored over some of the papers that were strewn over the surface of his desk. "You have to consider that I'm one of the old guard, for lack of a better word. I remember how battling used to be like. It was never meant to be a means of defying authority and showing one's discontent with the government. Pokemon and politics could not and should not be mixed – a recipe for disaster, that one is."

I remained silent as my mind processed this newest bit of information. General Harding didn't seem to notice, and went on with his explanation.

"There's also the fact that pokemon battling used to be a reason for many people's existence, mine included. Now that the world has changed... well, I guess I moved on in my own way. Landing a job that gave me the chance to train pokemon was an unexpected bonus, but I've left my trainer days behind, kid."

"Then what would you call yourself now, sir?" A person who trained pokemon but which didn't count as a trainer? That was something to think about for certain.

"I guess I'm more of a person that raises pokemon rather than a trainer nowadays. Most of the water types I train end up being sent to places like Floaroma for helping with the crops, or maybe even shipped off to the other continents to help in whatever they need them for. I do get shipments in from Hoenn on the odd occasion, but we don't exactly get requisitions for members of the lotad evolutionary line that often."

"Oh, I see..." A thought struck me. "Just why is pokemon battling banned, sir?"

He thought about it for a moment, "Well, you know why the revolution began, right? Stuff like the Elites wanting to stop abuse and all that good shit?"

"Yes, sir," I nodded.

"It was found that people with affinities for a particular type could not actually hurt pokemon of that type without feeling some of the pain for themselves, once the affinity was developed to a certain extent," he said, as he stood up after lacing his shoe and began stretching his back. "So the government only issues pokemon to those who have reasonable bonds to them, to try and prevent abuse cases."

"I see..." I frowned as I recalled the day we first attempted to train Silas. "What about when I tried to boil Silas?"

"Your affinity probably isn't that well-developed yet. Once a water affinity sets in, you'll find yourself getting thirsty more often and having this strange desire to be near bodies of water," he gestured out of the window. "That's why my office is so near to the sea compared to some of the others – I'm quite miserable when you keep me too far from water for prolonged periods of time."

"Wow," I was surprised by what he had just said. "So your greatest fear is dehydration?"

"Hardly," he snorted, as he yanked the door to his office open. "Come on, we've got more work to get done today before we can start Silas' training..."

He paused and turned to face me even as I was heading for the door, "But tell me, kid... what is your deepest fear?"

I hesitated, not sure of how to answer that question. Hell, I had no idea if it was his idea of a joke (given his notoriously perverted and questionable sense of humor).

"Ah, forget it – I can't do those quote impressions like Fen does. Get your ass in gear, rookie, we've got a shitload of work to settle!"

And so began yet another incident of me trying to keep up with the blur of a speed demon known as General Zachary Harding as he zipped through the corridors of port control. When I finally caught up to him at the cargo elevator that led down to the docks, he was grinning from ear to ear.

"Any plans tonight?"

I thought about it as the elevator doors slide shut noisily, "None, sir."

"Good, you're coming with me tonight. I think it's time for you to be exposed to some of the more... real stuff we deal with at port control."

"Real stuff, sir?" I asked, bewildered. Just how real could stuff get at port control?

"You heard me right – this shit's the real deal. I'd advise you to make a run back for some street clothes during lunch, since military uniforms aren't exactly welcome where we'll be going," he replied as he stepped out of the elevator and began looking around the docks. "Just where is that slacker, anyways... OI, KIRRIN!"

I jumped as he shouted out the name and drew several curious looks from a flock of wingull that were perched on a crane gantry. Within a few seconds, a greasy-faced head was thrust out of the crane operator's cab, peering at us from beneath a messy bunch of dreadlocks.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT, YOU NO GOOD COCKSUCKER?" bellowed the man, as he brandished a wrench at us.

"Get down here, you slacker!" General Harding shouted back with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "We've got something to talk about!"

"LIKE HELL WE DO! I'M WORKING HERE, SO SHUT YOUR PIE-HOLE!"

"Ah, fuck this shit."

With a single, smooth movement, he released a gastrodon from one of the six pokeballs he had clipped to his belt, "Gary, freeze Kirrin!"

A flash of light indicated that Kirrin had released one of his own pokemon, and soon enough, General Harding's gastrodon was firing Ice Beams at Kirrin's machamp.

"Sludge Bomb!"

"Cross Chop!" commanded Kirrin, as he nimbly leapt down onto the dock with an eager expression. "You always have a knack for coming down here when I want a battle, eh? Arnold, Ice Punch!"

"Last night's news hijacking got me in the mood," General Harding laughed. "Gary, Scald!"

"Dodge it!"

The four-armed fighting type barely managed to evade the jet of boiling water that the slug-like pokemon fired in its direction, but recovered fast enough to snatch up the gastrodon before it could send another attack its way. Gary the gastrodon let out an annoyed chirp, and let loose with a veritable torrent of poisonous sludge even as the machamp threw it at the nearest brick wall. The gastrodon was knocked-out upon impact, but the machamp didn't last too long after the sludge drenching – it fainted within seconds of being given the poisonous shower.

"Good match," Kirrin said with a big smile after returning his pokemon, as he stepped forward and gave General Harding a greasy handshake. "Who's the kid?"

"He's the actual reason why I came down here. Kid, this is Timothy Kirrin – he's the head mechanic down here on the docks."

"Good to meet you, kiddo!" I tried not to grimace as my arm was almost ripped out of its socket by the man's enthusiastic handshake. "So, what do you want me to do with him, Harding?"

"Teach him about the equipment we have here, stuff like that. Just the basics so that he knows what he'll be overseeing someday," he said, scratching his head and looking like he was thinking hard. "I'd do it myself, but tonight's a town run for me."

"Oh, it's tonight?" Kirrin asked with some interest. "Which ring?"

"Don Corneo's ring, of course," General Harding replied with a smirk. "It's the most entertaining."

"Put fifty on Robbins for me if he's there tonight – I'll pay you back when my salary comes in," Kirrin said, as he clapped a massive, grease-covered hand on my shoulder. "Now, I'll be borrowing this kid of yours for a bit."

"Good luck, kid!" General Harding called out with a wave, as I was steered away from him by the mechanic, wondering just why my commanding officer was apparently in charge of a gambling operation somewhere in town.

xxx

"So, kid – are you ready for a night out on the town?" General Harding asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet even as he zipped up his hoodie. "It's most certainly not for the faint of heart, mind you."

"I'm ready, sir. I think," I replied, squinting suspiciously at him. "Are you really involved in some kind of gambling ring or something, sir?"

"Gambling... that's a neat way of putting it. Whatever – get your ass in gear, rookie!"

With that, he took-off at a breakneck pace along the sidewalks and alleys of Canalave. I very nearly lost sight of him several times, and almost got knocked down by a couple of vehicles when he decided to cross a road or two. Needless to say, things only got worse once he got a little further from the docks and a little closer to the industrial part of the city.

"Watch it, moron!"

"Oi," shouted a driver, even as he flipped us the birdie. "We're driving here!"

"Shut the fuck up!" General Harding called over his shoulder, even as he ducked into yet another dark alley. "We're working here, you piss-wit!"

"What did you just call him, sir?" I was aghast at the fact that one, my commanding officer had violated all the pedestrian laws that probably existed, and two, he had just verbally-abused some random driver (though honestly, I should have been expecting that one, especially since most night drivers tended to be from the military, anyways).

"I believe I called him a piss-wit. There's nothing quite like adding a touch of class to profanity, no?" He grinned, as he finally came to a stop near a rusted fire escape. "So, kid... what do you know about the Underground?"

"You mean the nightclub thing?" I asked in return, shaking my head. "Sorry, never was one for the nightlife, sir."

"You think the Underground is a nightclub? Oh dear, this might take some explaining," he scratched his chin and looked slightly confused. "How could you possibly have not heard of the Underground?"

"I'm timid, sir."

He raised an eyebrow, "Timid? Tell that to Silas the next time you try to make soup with him."

"I wouldn't have really boiled him!" I retorted, blushing a little.

"That's what he said," he said in a sing-song voice.

"I meant that in all seriousness, sir. So just what is the Underground supposed to be?"

"Simply put," he said, squinting at the ground in the darkness, "the Underground is where Canalave's party animals gather for anything and everything that's illegal. Now, where's the manhole..."

I could almost feel my jaw dropping, "You can't be serious, sir!"

"And why wouldn't I be?" He grunted, as he hefted a manhole open. "Give me a hand with this cover, will you? Damn things are heavier than they are useful."

Still in a partial state of disbelief, I scurried over and helped him to haul the manhole cover to one side of the alley even as the sound of water flowing became audible through the opening. General Harding pranced over to the manhole, and unclipped a pokeball from his belt.

"Tell me, rookie... can you swim?" He asked with a grin.

"I can, sir... but in there?" I grimaced at the thought of having a swim in Canalave's sewage, causing him to start cackling madly with laughter.

"Ah, I was just fucking with you... No one in their right minds would swim down there, kid. That's what maintenance platforms and ledges are for!"

"Wait, sir," I stopped him just as he was about to release his pokemon into the sewer. "Are you telling me that we're going into the sewer?"

"No shit, Sherlock. What was your first clue?"

"And that this is illegal?"

"Well, where we'll be going is the illegal bit," was his reply. "I don't think that it's illegal to actually have a night-time stroll in the sewers now, is it?"

"So just why are you doing this again?"

"We are doing this, dear. Now just shut up and follow me down there!" With that, he released the lone pokemon into the opening, and clipped the pokeball back to his belt. Deftly, he hopped down onto the ladder that was built into the manhole's side, and began descending its rungs. "Come on in, kid! Believe it or not, this is actually work-related."

Shaking my head in disbelief, I slowly made my way down the ladder, eventually coming to a metal platform with rusted railings. We were located several feet above a surging stream of water that was rendered black by the lack of light, and the only source of illumination down there was a dim, flickering light bulb fixed about ten feet away from us. Looking upwards, I saw that the opening through which we had entered the sewers appeared to be no bigger than a postage stamp.

Up to that point in time, I hadn't even noticed the pokemon which he had released into the sewer. It was only when I heard a faint buzzing sound that I recalled him letting it out of its pokeball, and I turned to see it hovering over the water's surface. The rotom had assumed its 'wash' configuration, and was regarding me with a curious expression.

"Hey there, Sammie," General Harding greeted it. "Mind lighting the way for us? And handling any wild pokemon we might encounter, of course."

The rotom buzzed happily, and floated towards us to pat his head with a hose-like arm. Within seconds, it had lit up the sewers with a powerful Flash attack, revealing the existence of a narrow maintenance bridge that led from the platform we were standing on to a darker part of the sewer that its light could not reach.

"Follow me, kid. And watch out for wild grimer... they just love to ambush unwary sewer explorers."

"Canalave has a grimer population?" I asked nervously, my hand going to my belt and reflexively brushing against Silas' pokeball. "How come none of them have gone topside?"

He paused halfway along the length of the bridge, and cocked his head to one side, "That's actually a good question... They never come topside, but... Eh, it makes no sense at all."

"Sir?" I asked, even as he continued walking, causing his rotom to move further along the bridge. "What made no sense?"

"We don't have a poison specialist here at Canalave, so just why aren't they going topside?" He mused, even as we took several turns that eventually took us into a massive chamber with miniature waterfalls cascading down into a churning pool, nearly thirty feet beneath the bridge that we were standing on. "Maybe they're just well-behaved, or something."

I nodded, as we reached yet another platform. He led me towards a solid-looking door that was studded with rivets the size of a man's closed fist, and began fiddling with its lock. It had been set into the sewer's wall, and had become rusty thanks to the moist environment. However, its hinges were noticeably shinier than the rest of it, and several rusty arcs on the platform indicated that it had probably been opened not too long ago.

General Harding let out a happy whistle when something in the lock clicked, and the massive door slowly inched open.

"Kid, welcome to the Canalave Underground," he said with a dramatic bow – though by then, I was too shocked to even notice.

The doorway revealed a long passageway hewn out of solid rock that opened up at a bright area somewhere about fifty feet from where we stood. Through the opening, I could see what resembled several houses, and also colourful sheets of material that resembled the canvas rooftops of the Hearthome bazaar.

"Catching flies?" General Harding asked with a grin, even as he shoved me into the passageway. "Come on, rookie – we've got work to do, and the night isn't getting any younger!"

xxx

I was practically overwhelmed by the sights of the Underground. There were actual houses and a bazaar as I had guessed from my first glance, but those were hardly the most amazing of the lot. Vendors offered me all sorts of items whose names I hadn't heard since before the revolution and pokemon were all over the place. It was almost as if I had stepped back in time to my childhood or something like that, from the things that were happening all around me.

General Harding had returned his rotom, and now had his hood up, concealing his face. However, his messy black hair stuck out of the hood, which prevented it from fully covering his face, anyway.

"Stick close to me, kid – the Underground can be a rough place for the uninitiated."

"Sir, shouldn't we report this or something?" I asked in a low tone, as I ignored a woman offering me several X-Defends at a discounted price. "It's probably illegal, like you said!"

"Kid, who do you think takes most of the profits from this place?" He asked me with a smirk. "Anything that goes on down here happens with the government's consent and our cut of the pie is big enough to keep everyone up there quiet."

I frowned as the full implications of his words sank in, "That's corruption!"

"Call it what you may," he shrugged. "But believe me when I say that places like this are one of the few things that keep most former trainers happy. They get to have their pokemon battles, and we get to pretend that the government has absolute control over who trains pokemon. It's a win-win situation, really."

All I could do was nod mutely, as realization sunk in that the people I had spent a large portion of my life believing in weren't above being corrupt. The government, for all its rules and regulations, was perfectly content in deceiving the people into thinking that it abided by its own laws, it seemed.

I didn't get to complete my musings on the matter, though – General Harding had decided to walk right up to a man wearing a suit of all things, and had proceeded to deck him across the face. Chaos ensued, and before I knew it, several pokemon were released and had jumped into the fray.

"Harding!" called the man, even as his hitmonlee kicked two innocent bystanders into a stall selling berries. "What the fuck are you doing down here tonight?"

"I have an appointment with Kenneth, you piss-wit," answered General Harding with a wolfish smile. "Helix, use Rollout!"

People and pokemon alike scattered in panic as the omastar began spinning at an unnervingly high speed and charged right at the suited man. His hitmonlee tried to kick the spiral pokemon, but missed and wound up crashing into an ursaring that didn't look too happy at the disturbance. The massive bear-like pokemon roared and grabbed the fighting-type, tossing it into the air like a rag doll.

"Bah!" cursed the man, as he let out a roserade. "Eva, stop the snail!"

Before the omastar could turn around and nail the roserade, it received a face-full of Sleep Powder, causing it to topple over onto its side in a drowsy daze. General Harding returned it with a smirk, and gave a jaunty salute to the man he had attacked.

"Nice one, Dolph. Maybe you ought to find your hitmonlee, now," he laughed. "I'd forgotten about your roserade, though."

The man smiled, even as his roserade pirouetted up to him and hugged him around the waist, "Eh, she's good. So... who's the fresh meat?"

"This," General Harding replied, pushing me towards the man, "is my new assistant. Kid, this is Mr. Dolph – he's the man basically in charge of the Underground."

I nodded mutely – I just didn't know what to say to this... mob boss – and shook his extended hand. He offered me a small smile, and returned his roserade.

"One of the new, naive, kinds, I see. Don't worry about it, kid – everything that goes on here is perfectly fine by the government. No drugs, no prostitutes, and no gambling."

"Can the act, Dolph," smirked my boss, as he grabbed my shoulder. "Come on, kid. Now that the top brass here know who you are, we can get down to business."

"And just what does that entail, sir?" I asked sourly once we were out of Dolph's sight. "Why do you even need me here, anyway?"

"Firstly, it involves finding a certain scumbag who I'd like to feed his own penis to. The reason why I need you here is simply because someday, you'll have to do this for yourself," he replied with a shrug. "I won't be holding my job forever, believe it or not. Sooner or later, I might have to take my leave of Canalave."

That caught my interest, and cooled my temper somewhat, "Why would that be so, sir?"

"Let's just say that," he paused, "I have some... personal matters that need to be settled. I guess you could call them family problems."

"No disrespect intended here sir, but how bad can family matters get?" I asked. "Couldn't you just take some extended leave or something and settle it?"

"I wish it was that simple, but it isn't. Hell, most things in life aren't," he stopped in his tracks, and turned about to face me. "I did read your file, you know. I'm sure you of all people would appreciate how tricky family can get."

Something akin to fear welled-up inside my gut, causing me to flinch upon hearing those words. "I get your point, sir."

With a nod, he turned back to face the main street and began squinting through a window that was covered in a thick layer of dust. "Ah, don't worry about it, kid," he said, even as he began walking towards a small hut with tinted windows. "I'll explain it when the time is right. Now, if you'll kindly watch the back door of that hut for me, I've got a degenerate drug dealer to kick in the balls."