Chapter 6

Power

Squirtle's face felt warm, particularly his closed eyelids. They squeezed tighter shut as his brow knitted, trying to escape the heat. It was no use. Squirtle cracked his eyes open.

The sun greeted him boldly. Bright morning light streamed through the window and right into his eyes. He moaned and dragged himself by finger and claw out from under the warmed blanket, and out of the light's rays. Once back in the gentle shade, he sighed in relief.

Squirtle thought for a moment, then realized he shouldn't have to worry about the light bothering him. With a flick of mental effort, he blocked out the window with darkness. Rather, he tried to, but nothing happened. Oh well, my dark powers aren't working yet. Have to try a different approach.

Next, Squirtle tried to impose his will on the wall in front of his nose, urging it to open up and allow him to see the river he knew to be beyond. The wall did nothing of the sort. Stubbornly, it continued to block his vision. But I'm opening the wall. Right...now! The wall remained.

As a last ditch effort, he closed his eyes and tried to feel himself levitate off of the dirt ground. He imagined his weight decreasing until he was light as a feather, and then pictured himself floating about as he felt he might in a dream. Yet the firm pressure of the ground against his belly scutes and five limbs continually reminded him that he could not levitate. So far, none of his dream powers were working.

Gah, who am I kidding? This isn't a dream. I'm still a Pokémon, a Squirtle. And I still can't remember anything from before yesterday. Squirtle gave up the charade, and stood. As much as he had believed he was dreaming, his surroundings were as real as they could be. The blue-black claws in front of his eyes, the feeling of his swirly tail behind him, and the lingering warmth of the sunlight were each too real to be a dream. I can't believe I'm a Pokémon. It's too bizarre. How do you live like this? What do I do with myself? I've had to relearn walking and eating already. What will I learn today?

Quiet footsteps came from one of the other rooms in Bein's small abode. The Cubone himself came into sight, reaching for the front door. He glanced over his shoulder, and met Squirtle's eyes.

"Hm, you're awake. Your Cyndaquil pal woke up about an hour ago, elected to head into town and let you sleep. I'm going to make my rounds now, see that everything's fixed up and strong. Find me before you leave town, alright?"

Squirtle nodded, and said, "Thanks for letting us stay here Bein. We really appreciate it." He studied his voice for the first time after he spoke. It was...gurgly? Squeaky? Although not sure how to describe it, he figured his voice sounded like a Squirtle's should. Maybe he'd had the complete opposite sort of voice a couple of days ago, but that was irrelevant now.

The Cubone nodded in reply to his polite words. "Some food on the table," he mentioned, and left before Squirtle could say anything more.

After Bein left him to his own devices, Squirtle padded through the rooms, scratching at a few irritated patches of skin. For whatever reason, his skin was itchy, like he was allergic to something in the air or something he'd touched. Mercifully, the itches faded away after his attention was diverted by the food choices.

On a boring wooden table, in a boring wooden bowl, there were carrots, radishes, berries, greens in plenty, and a couple of colorful vegetables to which Squirtle couldn't put a name. He pieced together a basic salad. As his hunger swelled to the surface, he felt more appreciative of Bein than ever. Squirtle had to pay him back somehow before leaving Karprest with Quil. The salad tasted fresh enough, and Squirtle loved every crunch of it. Was it tasty because his mouth was a Squirtle's mouth, or was it tasty because he had always loved these vegetables?

The day hasn't started until I'm pondering why I enjoy salad, has it?

Was he really going to go through with this? Wake up each day and make an effort to learn how to be a Pokémon? What if one day he woke up back in the life he used to live? All of this would be for nothing. All the effort, all the Pokémon he met, everything he learned about battling, Pokémon culture, the surrounding lands - it would all be for naught.

He examined Bein's current home, now that the daylight allowed him to see. To his surprise, the huge rack of tools on one of the walls was not at all what it appeared to be in the darkness of the prior night. They were bones. About ten bones of various shapes and, it seemed, functions. Each rested vertically in the rack, ready to be plucked off and put to good use. There were more than a couple that were typical humerus-like bones that Squirtle imagined the average Cubone would wield. But one bone was long, slender, and terminating in a fine tip. The adjacent bone was thick, more yellowed, with each end having two bulbous protuberances. Did Bein use that one as a hammer? The strangest bone was one that actually hooked around at one end. What sort of Pokémon had a bone like that in its body? The variety of bones was confusing, but in a thought-provoking and thrilling sort of way.

Yes, he decided. He would put his best foot forward each day and give this world his best shot. No evidence hinted at a return to his previous life any time soon. He could have agreed to this transformation, for all he knew, and wouldn't want to betray his past self or any benevolent force that had brought about the change. Besides, he thought as he admired the bone collection, all I've experienced so far has been intriguing. And there's plenty more to see.

Squirtle pulled open the front door and strode out into the sun. As he watched, a pair of Rattata refugees departed from Swanna's lodge, presumably to head back to where they lived. Squirtle turned slowly in a circle, wondering where to start his search for a Psychic Pokémon. The overgrowth by the river's edge caught his attention, and he found himself walking toward the water he knew to lie beyond.

Through the sedge and cattails, Squirtle could see the Karp river covered in a morning fog. Off to the left and off to the right, Squirtle could see the riverbanks curving away from shore, into the river. The town must be situated at a natural inlet of the river, in a small bay. The opposite riverbank was invisible because of the thin fog, but from his vantage point of the previous day, Squirtle knew it to be a very wide river.

Squirtle gazed into the water just beyond his feet. Aquatic plants grew from the mud beneath the surface, their stem and leaf structures a startling green. A Magikarp rested amid the growth, gills gently opening and closing. Another one, small and therefore probably young, nibbled at the rich plant life with one eye on Squirtle.

The bubbling excitement rose within his chest once again as he gazed at the inviting waters. Squirtle were Water-types. The excitement had to be a response to encountering his element, and knowing instinctually that he would thrive in it. Yet Squirtle shook his head. There are more important tasks I have to complete before I can play around in the water. Besides, maybe there are powerful wild-dwelling Pokémon in there that would not take kindly to a Squirtle like me swimming around.

He noticed a patch of the riverbank clear of the thick plants, downstream a couple of minutes' walk away. As he approached, the area was revealed to be a Pokémon-constructed dock. A single craft was moored to the bobbing end of the wooden pier: a large, empty boat that resembled a raft. The scene matched the one pictured on the wall of Swanna's lobby. Looking more closely, Squirtle saw a large, finely-woven net floating on the water's surface in front of the boat. Squirtle could only guess at its purpose. As to how the boat was propelled, he was again at a loss, as no mast or pedals were present, and of course there was no machinery.

Where the pier met the riverbank, a pavilion shaded some Pokémon who stood casually or sat at tables and benches chatting. A sizable brass bell hung from one of the pavilion's posts, ready to be rung by a hanging cord. Squirtle could see a Wooper, a Mudkip, a Marshtomp, and a Palpitoad on land. A Tympole floated lazily by the pier, shooting small bubbles from its mouth at a Surskit who stood lightly on the water's surface. The Surskit returned bubbles of its own which burst forcefully when colliding with the Tympole's. The two Pokémon seemed to be competing to see whose stream of bubbles was more powerful. The Marshtomp crouched at the water's edge, speaking to a couple of Magikarp in the river, and laughed heartily at something one of the Magikarp said.

The Pokémon seemed civil enough, so Squirtle approached them, formulating his questions. The Palpitoad noticed, and met Squirtle just outside the pavilion.

"Hey there," the Palpitoad greeted him with a rich, throaty tone. "I take it you don't need to use our ferry?" he asked jokingly as he made a show of eying Squirtle up and down. His companions grinned at the Palpitoad's humor.

"No thanks," said Squirtle. "I'm here because I'm a traveler, and new to Karprest. I'm looking for a Pokémon who has Psychic capabilities. Would any of you happen to know any Psychic techniques?" He doubted they did, but it was worth a shot.

The Palpitoad confirmed his suspicions by glancing around at the other Pokémon, each of which shook their heads. "I'm afraid not, my Squirtle friend. Not a speck of Psychic talent among us. Although there was a Drowzee I used to know by the name of Mahow who lived here. Bit of a recluse, only spoke to him a couple of times. I doubt he lives here anymore, now that I think about it."

Squirtle's face fell. "You don't think any other Psychic Pokémon live in Karprest?"

The Palpitoad gaze wandered upward as he thought. The Wooper under the pavilion spoke up with a squeak. "I've made it a point to meet all the Pokémon in this town who live here, and no one is a Psychic. Sorry to tell you, Squirtle! You never know, though, maybe someone's learned some Psychic moves!"

"What do you need a Psychic for anyway?" asked the Palpitoad.

"Oh, I'm having some problems with my memory." Squirtle wished he had bitten his tongue, upon seeing the reactions of pity and surprise on their faces. Poor health must be a serious issue among Pokémon. "So I'm looking for a Psychic who may know why," he finished.

"I'm sorry to hear that," the Palpitoad said, and he looked it too. "Maybe you'll have more luck in a different region. Not many Psychic-types pass by here, you know. Works out well since you're traveling, eh?"

Squirtle nodded, feeling glum. "Thanks anyway, everyone. I'll find one eventually." He was about to turn away, but his eyes lingered on the waters beneath the tranquil fog cover. "By the way, are there any Pokémon living in the river that are, er, dangerous?"

"That depends," said the Palpitoad with a twinkle in his eye. "How strong are your fighting skills, Squirtle?"

The rest of the dock Pokémon were enlivened by the question, and looked eager for Squirtle's answer. Before he could give one, the Marshtomp called over to him, "D'you want to have a bout, as a warm-up? Tell me you want to have a bout, yeah?"

Squirtle put his hands up as if to ward off everyone's interest, and shook his head vehemently. "No, no thanks, I'm not interested-"

Squirtle's words were cut off by a high-pitched blast of sound from the center of town. It sounded electrical in nature, like an arc of electricity from a Voltorb that singes the air. It lasted less than a half second, a mere instant, but Squirtle could hear the blast echoing between the buildings before vanishing as quickly as it had come. The volume and piercing nature of the sound bespoke immense power.

The Palpitoad spoke haltingly. "That sounded powerful. Don't know any 'mon in Karprest who could pull off an Electric move that loud." Some of the other ferry attendants began to speak to each other in quiet voices.

Squirtle was curious. Powerful Pokémon were whom he wanted to meet, even if they were intimidating. He figured the more powerful, the more experienced. And the more experienced, the more able they would be to help him. "I'm going to see what's happening over there. Have a good day, Palpitoad," he said, and made for the noise's source along a well-trod path clear of growth or buildings.

The Palpitoad started to follow, slowly at first but then picking up the pace to a normal walk. "Actually, I'll come too. Wanna know by the waters of Kyogre what that zap was."

Squirtle nodded and kept moving. A flurry of movement followed the Palpitoad's declaration as most of the Water Pokémon beneath and near the pavilion followed. As they walked around buildings and beneath the occasional wayward tree, Squirtle found himself to be a leaf in a stream; Pokémon after Pokémon emerged from homes, shops, even out of the ground in the case of a Diglett, and moved toward the town center. Squirtle was caught up in the flow. A muttering of voices great and small surrounded him as Squirtle felt the first inklings of anxiety.

The procession ended in a cramped plot of Karprest. The old wooden buildings had been constructed too closely together here. Stolt, the argumentative Luxio from the previous day, again stood at the center of attention. However, unlike the previous day, his posture was unsure. He shifted his weight from paw to paw. His dismayed features did not match up to the confidence he exhibited earlier.

The Luxio's eyes stared at a fallen Meowth and did not look away. He did not seem to notice the observers. The Meowth was difficult to recognize, as their kind kept their fur smooth and well-groomed, to a fault. But this Meowth's fur stood up straight or at jagged angles. The small of its back was blackened from its usual white. The Meowth lay face-down. Its only movements were the subtle rise and fall of its breathing.

"I cannot understand this...this energy. It's never been close to this vibrant before," Stolt was murmuring to himself, still unable to tear his gaze away from the unconscious Meowth. "How can this be...?" He broke out of his reverie, noticing the gathering Karprest residents talking worriedly among themselves.

"No, no! I did not...this is not how it appears, trust me," said Stolt.

"You'd better start explaining then, Stolt!" came the voice of Mayor Biba, the Bibarel. Squirtle watched as she strode to the forefront of the loose crowd that was still gathering. She looked at the Luxio expectantly, with a dark expression.

"Let me try to explain," said Stolt. He visually composed himself, standing taller and more sure-footed before the eyes of Mayor Biba and the crowd.

"I was beginning my mid-morning run, as I often do when I have something on my mind. And, as I usually do, I Charged myself. Ah, I see some confusion. Charging is a term we Electrics have that refers to a bioelectric technique used to temporarily increase our electrical output. The Charge has no effect on my runs, but I find it helps motivate me to an appropriate state of mind. But when I Charged..."

His eyes glazed over momentarily. "I...I felt energized like never before. Electrical power surged through me. I bounded forward, heading for the path up to Root Forest. In my haste, I brushed against Keema here." He looked down at the Meowth, then away hurriedly.

"And I...discharged some of my energy into her. It was so close to the surface, almost to the point of fur-static. The sensation is difficult to explain to non-Electrics. Suffice it to say that I practically had no ability to hold back the discharge once my fur had brushed against her back."

The Marshtomp from the dock, now in the crowd near Squirtle, spoke up in a skeptical tone. "And it zapped her that good, huh? I've never seen a static shock like you're talkin' about do that much damage. We could hear it from the ferry!"

Many Pokémon in the crowd murmured their agreement. Stolt did not shrink back from their disbelief, but raised his chin in righteous defiance. "What you see was an accidental discharge, there was nothing intentional about it. I must admit that the shock generated was, well, immense. Prodigious, really. But it was an accident. I have nothing against poor Keema here. I just can't understand why. I still feel it, too. The power...how is this so?" The Luxio's voice quieted and he seemed deep in thought.

The Pokémon of the crowd began to talk among themselves in earnest. Mayor Biba frowned and her snout quirked up on one side as she mulled over Stolt's words. Squirtle, during the lull, scanned all of the Pokémon around him for Quil's face. He had a hunch that a confrontation was coming, and he wanted to be near Quil, just in case the upcoming argument escalated beyond words. With two personalities like Stolt's and Biba's, Squirtle doubted calm words would settle the matter.

There! Quil watched from the opposite side of the loose circle, near the front. He must have been near the discharge when it had happened, and had been kept near the center by newcomers filing in from behind. Squirtle reckoned that Quil looked anxious, too, though it was still difficult for him to pick up on the Cyndaquil's body language. Squirtle maneuvered through the outskirts of the crowd before nosing back in toward where he had seen Quil.

Squirtle laid a hand on Quil's small shoulder as he arrived, letting Quil know he was there. "Hey," he muttered. The motion drew Stolt's eye. An unpleasant expression of malice formed on his face.

"Oh, Squirtle, it's you," said Quil. "Shh, the Mayor's stepping forward."

Mayor Biba spoke up loudly so all could hear. "Stolt, an unprovoked attack, especially one of this caliber," She gestured to the fallen Meowth, Keema, "mandates legal action by our two marshals. Now, none of us know if you what say is true, but we'll soon get to the bottom of this. Are there any 'mon present who witnessed the discharge?"

"That won't be necessary, Biba," said Stolt in a low, dangerous voice before any witnesses could step forward. "I think I understand, to a small degree, what happened to me, and to Keema. Let me test my theory. You won't believe me no matter what I say, so I'll deal with you in a moment."

More than a couple of gasps from the Pokémon in the crowd followed Stolt's blatantly disrespectful pronouncement. And in that startled pause, Stolt acted. His eyes returned to Quil and Squirtle. He crouched slightly as an electric hum emanated from his body. Tiny arcs of electricity jumped between tufts of fur on his black mane. His tail pointed upward and stiffened, ready to balance any movement he made.

Oh, no.

That was all Squirtle had time to think before the Luxio dashed forward, and with a small roar, pounced at him and Quil. Squirtle stumbled to the side to get away. A yellow flash filled the area and a blast of electrical noise reverberated in the cramped air. It was the same noise Squirtle had heard at the dock. Here the sound was louder and more resonant, but no less piercing.

Quil was hurled away by the attack. The Pokémon in his path were knocked aside easily, scattered as if struck by a boulder. Quil tumbled across the dirt and a light plume of dust marked his path. After a distance of thirty or forty paces, almost an Onix's length away, his body met the wall of some Pokémon's house. With a wooden THUNK, he came to rest. The short fur on his forehead, just above the snout, was blackened from the electrical surge.

Mouth agape, Squirtle stared dumbly at Quil's little form. He was not moving. His flames had vanished. Whether Squirtle was deafened from the thunderous blast, or the crowd was dead silent, Squirtle did not know.

I'm a coward. I watched as Stolt blasted Quil. And I did nothing.

Squirtle turned slowly to face Stolt. The Luxio's eyes were also wide, as if he had not expected what he himself had done. Then a smile spread across his face. A smug, pompous, and immensely pleased smile. Stolt faced the crowd, making no attempt to change his expression. He eyed the Pokémon, reveling in the horrified expressions.

Squirtle felt emotions within him rising from the shadow of shock. Anger was present, yes, but it was easily overpowered. Fear.

I need to run. I need to run now. No, I need to talk him down. Do something to stop him from hurting anyone else. No, idiot. I need to run.

"Yes...yes I thought so," Stolt said to the crowd in a strong voice, though he sounded muffled after the volume of the electrical blast. "My natural abilities have increased drastically, as you all just saw. How, and why, I do not know. But the implications are obvious, are they not, my good residents of Karprest?"

Quil was still not moving. One of the Pokémon who had been knocked aside, a Lombre, groaned in pain where he lay. The others were getting up. Some backed away from the scene, looking frightened out of their skins with the display of power. Others stood as Squirtle did, watching the Luxio in silent fear.

"Another demonstration is in order, I believe. Then we can discuss the matter of my...punishment." He laughed cruelly, before setting his eyes on Squirtle. "This Squirtle's an interloper just like the Cyndaquil."

Squirtle's stomach leaped to his throat. He felt nauseous. What could he do against the Luxio? He was helpless. He would meet the same fate as Quil.

Stolt crouched slightly, as before, and built up his electricity. This time, there was not a calculating and curious expression on his face, but that malicious grin.

Quil, a Fire-type, had been hurtled backwards and knocked out, or worse, by Stolt's electrical attack. Squirtle was struck by a horrifying thought as he looked at the arcs of electricity jumping in the fur of the Luxio's mane. Luxio was using an Electric attack.

And Squirtle was a Water-type.

Squirtle screamed, letting loose the terror he felt inside. Spinning away from the Luxio, he pumped his legs and sprinted away as fast as he could.

Stolt roared as he leaped into the air.

The electrical humming grew louder and louder as Stolt descended upon him. The world ignited into a blinding whiteness, and thunder exploded in Squirtle's head, shattering his consciousness.