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Audition 3: Professor Oak

Former Occupation: Fictional Professor from… somewhere.

Hello There!

Welcome to the world of not owning POKEMON!

My name is OAK! People call me the POKÉMON PROF!

Amaxing: The… 'prof'? What's a prof? Also, Oak? We've already introduced you. Go ahead and move on.

This world is inhabited by creatures called POKÉMON!

For some people, POKEMON are pets. Others use them for fights.

Myself… I study POKEMON as a profession.

Amaxing: One, we know what Pokémon's about. Otherwise we wouldn't be here. Two, why do you keep saying Pokémon in all caps? … How do you keep saying Pokémon in all caps?

First, what is your name?

A: Um… Max English.

Right! So your name is MAX!

A: Seriously, how do you keep doing the all caps thing?

This is my grandson.

A: Wait, where?

He's been your rival since you were a baby.

A: What, did we fight over bottles or something?

…Erm, what is his name again?

A: How can you not know that?

That's right! I remember now! His name is HOWCAN!

A: … I feel like I've accidentally created a horribly unfortunate new character. Damn writing at 3:00 in the morning.

MAX!

A: Agh! Don't yell like that, you scared me!

Your very own POKÉMON legend is about to unfold! A world of dreams and adventures with POKÉMON awaits! Let's go!

A: Huh. That was actually a pretty decent segue. This story is kind of like my own Pokémon legend, huh? Congratulations, professor! You get a callback!

Like a boss.

Chapter 35: A Tactician

All right. Let's take stock of the situation again.

Three human beings, one male, two female. All in young adulthood or late adolescence, all Pokémon trainers.

Nine Pokémon: Cyndaquil, Squirtle, Treecko, Meditite, Skarmory, Totodile, Gallade, Gardevoir, Xatu. An inordinate amount of Psychic types, working on the assumption that these are just random trainers travelling together. Not strange enough to merit suspicion on its own, however.

The Skarmory appears to be working through some sort of mental rehabilitation… the boy Axel mentioned something about 'not killing people before you can fly'. A former Pokémon of Death? That would make a very altruistic explanation for the odd, Pokémon-theft gauntlet in the boy's knapsack.

But nothing's for certain. If I had any other options at all, I'd never have dreamt of allowing random passersby to know the location of our camp. But I've been made very desperate, and my gut feeling that the boy is trustworthy is all I have to go by.

The Totodile gives me pause. She seems… preoccupied. More so than the Treecko, even. Her eyes dart back and forth in such a manner it's almost as if she's speaking with someone.

Possibly another Pokémon in need of mental rehabilitation. Is that this group's purpose? Not likely; they don't seem like trained professionals. And the badges pinned on the underside of the boy's jacket suggest he's on a Pokémon league venture.

To my understanding, however, he should be halfway through Ginli by now if he intends to make this year's finals in time. There exists a possibility, then, that it's simply part of an in-depth cover… though not necessarily directed at us.

The violet-haired one's departure is worrisome. While the boy's concern and insistence on sending his Cyndaquil with her suggests she really is just going to the authorities, the possibility of a ruse still exists. I'll need to send someone to watch after her. Sitch will do. He's quiet and intelligent enough.

Assuming that these people are trustworthy, which is unfortunately the assumption I'm forced to work with, the next concern is how this bolsters our forces.

I'm almost thankful the Cyndaquil is gone; it's hyperactivity could prove too much of a risk. The Meditite seems too lackadaisical to be of use in an actual war; one-on-one fighting is probably the only thing it's suited for.

That Treecko, on the other hand, can fight groups. The way it holds itself, the way it's constantly aware of its surroundings… it's had experience. That's at least one additional blade.

The Squirtle seems aware of its surroundings too… almost more than it's aware of its own actions. The way it ricochets from tree to tree is reminiscent of acrobatic performance…

A showman. But one that's overcome a good deal of hardship. There's a certain world-weariness to its gaze, regardless of the fact that it seems to be three, four years old at most.

He's a possibility. Two more in addition to our four, that makes six. But one to guard each direction, two as a reserve, and myself makes seven. I need that seventh, or we don't stand a chance.

The Totodile is out of the question. The Skarmory as well, for similar reasons. The Gallade appears… emotional. Impulsive. While that in itself is not a deal-breaker, it is almost in incredible denial about both of these things; constantly sputtering and sticking out its chest, making itself out to be a 'gentleman'. If it can fight, though, I may have to take it.

Though I wonder… could the boy himself serve as a seventh? Or perhaps the girl… there's a fighter's spirit in there. An aura of ferocity that would make me think twice before charging. Plus, human males are always hesitant to harm females. Unless the demographics of the hunters has changed drastically since last time, we should be dealing with an almost, if not entirely male group.

There were around forty of them last time, and of course we let them all live. To kill one would be to authorize the use of external aid. Even still, now that they've had time to gather reinforcements, their numbers may be as high as… fifty? Sixty? Not more than one hundred; too big a group would draw too much attention. Then again, since the location of this herd is unknown outside a certain circle of people, that might not be a concern for them.

This is bad. Even if our bolstered forces are enough to drive them away again this time, they'll keep coming back with more. Isn't there a way to stop them from coming in the first place? At least the Rangers will be notified of our position now. That may help, provided, of course, that the violet-haired one is going where she claims to be going.

Thinking that, I called Sitch over to me as soon as I reentered the cave. I whispered instructions to find and observe the girl, and he nodded, darting away into the night.

"Still don't entirely trust us, huh?" The Squirtle chuckled, drawing my attention with a tap on my leg.

I looked down, mildly impressed that it had overheard. "You're quite the observant one, aren't you?"

"Rule number five of the Entertainer's Code: always keep an eye on your audience," he smiled, giving a short a bow. "The Magnificent Shelligan, at your service."

"I appreciate that," I responded. "We could use a good lookout. All of us are working on four-hour sleep shifts."

"Take a whole night, then," it replied. "I can certainly go a day or five without sleep. Rule two, after all."

I grunted in approval, walking past it to the fire. I greeted a few of the Sawsbuck who had started to protest at the presence of humans, explaining the situation.

"Trainers aren't much better than hunters," their alpha male, Buxton (I would not lie about that) commented. "They might not kill us, but who's to say that after the hunters are gone they won't be back with Pokéballs, catching and scattering us?"

"I don't think you realize how desperate we are for back-up," I told him sternly. "Or is Death a preferable fate?"

"I… no, of course not," Buxton replied, pawing at the ground. He may be prone to tempers, but he's also quick to realize the truth of a situation. Not bad qualities for a leader, overall.

"Where's Inigo?" the boy, Axel asked, looking around the cave in concern.

"Out getting firewood," the Meditite translated for me. "I sent one of our men, Hachi, out to keep him company, so he should be fine."

"Wanted to keep an eye on him, huh?" the boy laughed. "Well, I can't blame you. But let's get down to business, what's your strategy so far?"

I parted the herd of Sawsbuck, leading the boy and his companions back to a section of cave where we'd scratched out our plans. "Since moving to this new location, we've attempted to keep a balance of camouflage and fortifications, with lookouts traveling around the edges to report on any possible assaults."

"Like that Dwebble, right?" the girl, Amber asked. "Where is he? I wanted to take a look at his wounds."

"He should be resting by the fire," I pointed. "But I doubt he'll let you heal him. He's still young, stubborn, aching to prove himself. You know the type." The last part I directed more at the Meditite than the girl.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Axel chuckled. "Amber's quite the stubborn one herself. She's not going to take no for an answer."

"You always have such an… elegant way of describing me, Axel," the girl flinched, heading over to the fire. A loud cry from Dwebble, followed by a loud command from Amber, signaled to me that, perhaps, the Pokémon would finally be in proper bandages by the end of the day.

"Yeah…" Axel said, almost apologetically. "Anyway, this was pretty sound, when you only had four people working defense. But we've got more soldiers now, so it could do with some adjusting."

"At the same time, the Hunters will come back in larger numbers," I countered. "We were able to hold off the forty from last time, but only barely."

"But they won't increase their numbers by that much," Axel reasoned. "We've more than doubled your supply of fighters, and at most they'll have double the hunters. Either way, I'm sure we'll be more than capable of fending them off, especially when Vanna gets back."

"So you'd favor a more offensive strategy?" I asked.

"I'd favor changing where the balance lies, at the very least," he replied.

"Ah…" I said, making adjustments. "The main road is to the north, so they'll likely strike there…" I thought it over for a minute. "So you're saying we should forego the camouflage, and shore up the defenses to the East, West, and South?"

"That's what I was thinking, yeah," the boy nodded. "Of course, I'm probably a little overconfident in the abilities of my team. They've never let me down before, though."

"Sorry…" the 'Magnificent Shelligan' interrupted, "but doesn't this strategy leave the way to the north completely open?"

"Of course," the boy shrugged. "The best forts have gaps, Shelligan."

The Squirtle was taken aback, but I simply nodded. The boy was absolutely right, of course. I was actually a bit impressed. "You can't win a war if you only defend," I explained to the Squirtle. "You have to funnel your enemy into one place so that you can attack. Putting that funnel near the main road makes them all the more likely to use it."

"It also makes them more likely to see through the ruse," Shelligan commented. "I take it that these hunters aren't stupid, otherwise they wouldn't be giving your men so much trouble." He hummed to himself. "If it were me, I'd place the gap either to the West or the East. Putting it to the North makes it very obvious we want them to use the gap, whereas putting it to the South makes it very obvious that we're trying to not be obvious about wanting them to use the gap."

"Shelly… please," Medici complained. "That was an absolute pain to translate, man. Brevity! It's a thing. And it's the essence of something or another."

"I agree with the double-blind aspect of that strategy," I commented, ignoring the Meditite's whines. "But I still favor the South. Not only is it the farthest from the road, but there's also a small lake in that direction that will hamper their movement." I smiled. "We can make it look like we've run out of wood to build walls, and are taking advantage of the natural cover… while actually taking advantage of the natural cover."

"That's almost a triple-blind strategy!" The Squirtle exclaimed. "I endorse it whole-heartedly! But who's going to cut down all those trees?"

I whistled, calling one of the Pidgeys that had agreed to help us. "I'll send a message off to Hachi. He actually enjoys this sort of thing, and I'm sure your Treecko won't mind lending a hand."

"Not at all," the boy answered without hesitation. "Gallant!" He called out. "Inigo's going to be cutting down a bunch of trees tonight! Figured you wouldn't want to be left out."

"Well, I will have to make certain that no terrible incidents occur like the previous time such a thing happened," the Gallade nodded. "I'll most gladly lend a hand. Lead the way, Ms. messenger bird."

I think the Pidgey rolled its eyes, but I couldn't be sure. It began to fly away, but suddenly, Sitch was barreling back into the cave.

"Don't go out yet," the Timburr instructed the Pidgey. "While I was looking for the girl, I saw a Hunter making his way through the woods."

A hush fell over the herd. "Were you seen?" I asked hurriedly.

"No," Sitch assured me. "But he seemed to be doing a thorough search of the area. He can't be more than half a mile from our location."

"Damn…" I swore, beginning to pace. "If he continues to head this way, he'll find us out of dumb luck. And if one of us goes out to drive him off, it's practically giving them our position."

"How fast can we relocate?" the Squirtle asked immediately.

"Not fast enough," I answered simply. "Even if we started moving right now, he'd find us as we were leaving; plus Inigo and Hachi would be left stranded out there."

"I'll go," the boy offered.

I was caught off guard. "What do you mean, you'll go?" I asked, words coming out as a gut reaction.

"Well, I mean, they won't be expecting a human to be trying to lead them astray, right?" He reasoned. "If I send him off course, there's no reason for him to suspect that he was getting close to this place, right?"

"That… is true," I responded. "But…"

"NO," came the girl's voice. She stomped over to Axel, grabbing him by the neck of his shirt. "No, no no. I have had it!"

"With… what?" The boy asked, confused.

"This… martyrdom complex you seem to have," Amber yelled, gripping him tighter. "First Deathwing, then the Team Musket Base, now this… you know, Axel, sometimes I think you want to get yourself killed!" She slapped him, and despite her best efforts, a tear rolled down her cheek. "What is with you? Why are you so set on thrusting yourself into danger for people?"

"You know why," he replied, sterner than I thought him capable of.

Her eyes, which had been locked on his, quickly looked away, and she let go. "Axel…" she said softly. "You realize… everyone's forgiven you but you, right?"

"Well, call me self-centered, but I kind of think my opinion's the most important here, you know?"

Silence. With a sigh, she looked back at him. She put up a hand as if to slap him, but instead rested it on the boy's cheek. "Just… be careful, ok?" She ordered. "I love you, Axel." She smiled. "I know I… haven't said that in a while, but it's as true as it ever was."

He took her hand off his face, kissing it gently. "And I care about you more than anything," he answered. "Which is why I'll come back. Like I always do. Ok?"

She said nothing, but nodded.

"Ok," he said softly, hoisting his backpack off the floor. "Which way did you say it was?" He asked Sitch. Sitch pointed, and he nodded in gratitude, setting off towards the Hunter.

"Out of curiosity…" I asked the girl. "What exactly is the reason?"

"Private," the girl responded, and despite his best efforts, the Meditite could not quite capture the underlying rage within the girl's voice.

"You just going to let him go off by himself, Master Iamb?" Sitch asked.

"Of course not," I replied. "He still can't fully be trusted, now can he?" I turned to Dwebble, who I was delighted to see wrapped in gauze. "Keep an eye on the base, Dwebble. Sitch, find the violet-haired girl. Unless circumstance prevents us, we meet back here in no more than twenty-four hours, understood?"

They both nodded. Satisfied, I followed Sitch out the entrance of the cave, and we went our separate ways.

Now to see if the boy is truly on our side.

Inigo

"Everything? From the beginning?"

"The beginning's always a good place to begin, yeah," the Heracross smiled.

Very well.

The beginning of my life is a blur. I was born into darkness, and kept in darkness, except for the few regular times when the harsh light was turned on. Something would take me out of my… container, I suppose, and something else would poke and prod me with needles, scalpels, whatever was necessary.

I do not know why I was there, or even what they were doing. In fact, as far as I knew… this was all there was to life. It was not terribly uncomfortable, despite how intrusive it could be at times.

Then, the explosion, and the screams, and the breaking glass. The harsh lights came on and did not go off, and I found myself suddenly knocked to the floor, surrounded by so many stimuli it was unbearable. Holding my ears, I stumbled blindly through the mess of flashing lights and shuffling bodies, trying to find any spot of comfort I could.

There were shadows outside. Bits of darkness to replace the shade that I'd lost. I lurched towards them, and towards the large, rocky spires creating them. There was so much that was new: colors, shapes, scents. I had never used my sense of smell before, and the sheer newness of it was enough to render me incapable of walking for minutes. When I finally had the wherewithal to turn around and see where I had come from, I saw a burning building, with people running in and out from all directions. It was the last place I wanted to be, so I ran through the spires, darting from shadow to shadow to keep myself from being too overwhelmed.

Night soon fell, and my body began to feel ways that it had not before. My stomach ached, my throat yelled out for… something. What were these sensations? I had never had them before. Something; some hardwired instinct of nature told me to dunk my head into a nearby pond and drink. I did, and my body immediately screamed with delight. I drank deeply, without stopping; unaware of anything but the sudden soothing feeling this miraculous substance was giving me.

I saw myself for the first time. Somehow, I had always pictured myself as white… I would never have guessed my skin and tail were such deep, verdant shades. When I was not gulping down water, I sat transfixed by my true form.

I did not notice the Arcanine bearing down on me, defending its territory, until it was within Biting distance. With a loud snarl, I saw what I could only think to be a hideous monster bearing down on me, intent on throwing me around like a rag doll.

I have been told that Treeckoes cannot learn Leaf Blade; that one must evolve into at least a Grovyle before it is even physically possible. But extending my twin blades and slashing out to defend myself was my first and only instinct: I cut the beast down without even thinking about it. A human soon followed, returning the monster into a red and white sphere, and looked at me.

He was an older man, and was dressed in clothes that, as I later found out, should have struck me as odd. It was a kimono, the pitch-black color matching the few bits of his hair that still had color. He surveyed me, and for a moment I thought I would be punished for my actions. Instead, he invited me into his home. I did not understand why, but I was in no position to refuse.

His name was Kiyomori Miyagi, and he was, without question, the wisest man I ever knew. He was an author who wrote samurai novels, and through his research and, as some would say, obsession, he had become a master of the sword himself.

He never explicitly told me that he had an interest in training me. He never made any moves to capture me, to direct my actions, even to keep me on his property (a small, wooden shack beside a mighty cliff, overlooking a floating city). I knew enough, however, to realize that this man could, at the very least, help me control this strange, new thing I had found myself capable of doing, and so I stayed. That and, my survival skills being non-existent, I could not trust myself to forage for food.

I spent some of the most content moments of my life in that shack, learning the sword, wrestling with Arcanine and other Pokémon four, five times my size (as well as Master Kiyomori's son, Escher), and reading Master's books, as well as tomes of military philosophy. It never struck me as odd that I could read (both English and Japanese!), I just… could. I assumed all Pokémon could do so.

When I had been there for eighteen months, a change began to come over Master Kiyomori. He became… more alert, more careful. I sensed it too; there was a darkness approaching, a sinister intent of great power. That fateful night, Kiyomori sent his wife and son away, released his Pokémon and told them to run if they wished.

They all did, except for Arcanine and I. I owed Master Kiyomori far too much to abandon him, and Arcanine… that bastard was loyal to a fault. I shudder even thinking about what he must be doing now.

Then, both like a marching band and like a thief in the night, Death came. Not only her Pokémon, but also he, personally, came. I fought as hard as I possibly could, but that infernal Slugma of hers shirked off my cuts, and Arcanine… Arcanine could not even keep up with his opponent. He was beaten into a pulp within seconds and Master Kiyomori… the same. Nearly every bone in his body broken, and then suspended in midair psychically like a rag doll.

I lay on the ground, a broken man. I had been able to do nothing. Nothing. In my rage, in my desperation, in my absolute self-loathing, Death entered my mind, and its voice… its voice overrode every other thought I had. I could not think my own thoughts… eventually, I forgot how. I became as nothing but a puppet, and Death, in sickening joy, sent me off on my first 'mission'.

A group of twelve high school students, recently graduated. They were camping out in the woods, laughing around a roaring bonfire and thinking about what lay in store for them in the future. I watched them from the thick, waiting for one to peel off from the group, and struck, leaving his body in a place where it would surely be found.

After a while, the group split up to look for him. I allowed the girl who found him enough time to let out a scream before shredding her to bits. Another male from the group had been foolish enough to search alone, and I struck him down too, all the while leaving no trace.

Eventually, they began to accuse each other. I slashed their tires, preventing them from leaving, and picked them off one by one, each kill bloodier than the last. When there were only two left, they turned on each other, one finally caving the other's head in with a rock.

He sighed in relief, thinking that, at the very least, he had survived. Then I walked out into plain sight, and stared, giving him time to register what had really happened, and what he had done.

He did not scream. He fell to the ground, sobbing over his friend's body, and simply waited, begging non-vocally for Death.

I… obliged his desire.

The thirteenth target Death sent me after, thank Arceus, was Axel. Qwill, his Cyndaquil, smothered me in searing flames, and Shelligan, his Squirtle, beat me senseless with the blunt end of his shell. He captured me with his BBUTTON, and within a day, I no longer heard his voice. A day after that, I had decided on a new name. I looked for a calendar, and realized I had been in the service of Death for more than a year. Yet another expanse of my life completely lost to me.

"I have… forgiven myself for letting Master Kiyomori die," I explained to Hachi. "I have also forgiven myself for killing those twelve children… I understand that power that Death wields, and how truly ill-suited I was to deal with him."

"Then… what's the problem, man?" Hachi asked, real concern showing in his eyes. "I mean… what have you got to hate yourself over, if you've forgiven yourself for all that?"

I sighed, shaking slightly. "I said earlier that Death turned me into a puppet, yes?" I began. "Well… that was no completely true. Puppets lack emotions." I swallowed, but my throat had gone dry. "When I was tormenting those people, when I was picking them off one by one and watching them panic…"

I smashed a fist into the ground. "I enjoyed it, Hachi. Death never told me to take pleasure in what I was doing, simply to do it… but I…I enjoyed every moment of hunting them. It was a game to me, and while I was playing it… I had to fight from laughing in sheer delight."

I had begun to convulse, and I breathed deeply, calming myself. "I am… a monster, Hachi." I concluded. "A monster that can behave itself… but a monster, nonetheless. And I cannot, will not ever forgive myself for that."

He was silent for a minute, his meditation, combined with his cross-legged stance, almost made him appear as a monk. "You say you can't forgive yourself… for being a monster?"

I nodded.

"Inigo," he chuckled. "I don't think you quite understand… we're all monsters on the inside." He shrugged. "I don't know if you've ever watched any TV, but look at the shows that humans watch. Serial Killers as protagonists, crime shows where one or more people are murdered in horrific ways every week… hell, don't even bother with TV, there are entire book series devoted to killing people in horrible ways."

He leaned over, and to my surprise I let him pat me on the back. "The fact is, we've been born into a world where some of our greatest moments of pleasure come from watching others suffer. Schadenfreude, and all that. If we use your reasoning, then while we're not the ones personally pulling the trigger, or whatever the day's murder method may be, we're all monsters."

He smiled. "And maybe we are, right? The question then, as Nietzsche said, is "Is it better to out-monster the monster or be quietly devoured?" He shrugged again, a vain attempt to undercut the sagacity of his words. "In a world where we've got people like Death running around, it's pretty relevant, eh?"

"So I should just accept that I'm a monster," I stated.

"Not just accept it," Hachi offered. "Embrace it. The good parts, anyway. You are a strong, capable fighter who relishes cutting down his enemies; that in itself isn't a bad thing. But keep in mind that when you committed those acts, you weren't choosing who your enemies were."

"I… had never thought about it like that," I admitted. Concerned, almost unwilling to believe what I was hearing, I asked: "so… am I really, for lack of a better word… normal?"

"Well, no. You're a grass-type, I believe," he laughed.

"I should cut you for that," I threatened jokingly.

"Try it. See what happens," he volunteered, moving from his cross-legged pose to a… um… a 'come at me bro' position, I suppose you could call it.

"It's just like you to become sidetracked from your obligations, Inigo," came Gallant's voice, and the Gallade appeared before us, accompanied by a Pidgey. Hachi, becoming serious for a moment, conversed with the bird briefly, and nodded. "All right then, boys, let's get to work. We've got three impenetrable wooden walls to build, and one night to cut down every single tree we'll need. There are no objections, I take it?"

I extended a leaf blade and chopped down a tree with my full strength, sending the disembodied trunk flying a ways. It had been quite a while since I had allowed myself full power, and it felt… liberating. As if a new door had not just been opened for me, but blown off its hinges.

Author's Note

Whoa! Super long update to make up for the super long wait!

Or… something like that. Inigo's story was hard to write, because I wanted to make sure it was perfect. It isn't. But I'm writing a serial type thing here, so I can't keep my readers waiting too long over my own insecurities. It is what it is! I'm pretty sure I touched on all the important parts. And if I didn't… that's what ret-conning is for! Right? … Right?

Ah, whatever. Reader interactions stuff time thing GO!

It's not a question (technically), but Exodin expressed confusion over Dragonette's split personality type stuff! And since I do promise to explain things that won't ruin the plot, sure! I can do this!

I can't say anything for certain as to whether Dragonette is actually suffering from multiple personality disorder or whether it's the same personality thinking different things in rapid succession. It could even be something completely different. I can tell you, though, that the writing style is one hundred percent stream of consciousness: it's what the character's thinking, with no filters whatsoever. Faulkner would be proud. I hate myself.

I've done this a little bit with Qwill, but even he attempts to tell a narrative. Dragonette, having just broken free of Death's… something or other, isn't particularly concerned or even aware of any overarching plot, so her point of view is very self focused.

I can also tell you, from the writing mechanic perspective, that when I was working with Dragonette, there were three main voices I, personally, pictured. A girl, her older brother, and her annoying next-door neighbor.

For easy recognition, the 'older brother' type voice is the one who was attached to the name Deathwing and was the least open to change. The girl was the one who thought Axel seemed nice, and the neighbor is the one they both didn't like. The constant use of the pronoun 'I' was meant to be intentionally confusing! Because, you know I love you guys. So I have to torture you.

I believe I've said in a previous author's note that I wasn't a sadist, though, so I wouldn't worry too much. After all, it's not like I'd ever lie to you.

The sky is purple.

Viva la feminism?