ACT ONE - IMMOLATION
Chapter 3 - Shel-fishness
Two months ago
"I can't understand this ridiculous obsession of yours, Mawile. What is it about this mountain that disappoints you so much?"
Mawile grit her teeth. Ever since her birth, the Pomace Mountain had been her world. Her childhood had been spent between Mabel's beautiful garden and the snow-laden peaks. Mawile as a species weren't exactly big on parent-child affection, and it was natural for adult mawile to let their young ones fend for themselves, leaving them to hunt and survive on their own. In fact, it was almost a characteristic trait for young mawile to go out and learn to employ deception and charm to gather food, and in turn, become a predator when their entire body physiology was built to be the ideal prey.
Mabel just didn't understand. She seemed to think that Mawile would be happy, having all her food brought to her, and lazing around in the safety of the mountain. Of course, being a human, she wasn't the one to blame in all of this. She had been a trainer back in her youth, and her Mawile, Elize, had been subjected to the difficulties that came with being a trained pokémon before Mabel had finally resigned to a life of solitude amidst the beautiful valley on Pomace Mountain. A couple of years into their stay, Elize had given birth to a little one, who had thus been limited all her life by the beautiful mountainous valley all around her. All her life she had been treated like she was made of porcelain and her more predatory tendencies were simply treated as tantrums.
That was Mawile's story. She was trapped in a gilded cage. It was ironic, but that didn't make it any less true. It wasn't like she had gained nothing from her stay, becoming strongly resistant to the ice element, and growing into a decent predator, but the main issue still remained.
"…wile!" Mawile looked away. No, there was no point. Even Elize, her own mother, did not seem to understand it. She simply thought that Mawile was being a rebel, courtesy of her innocence and youth.
"Fine!" Mabel sighed. "If that is what you really want, I will arrange something for you."
Mawile looked up in astonishment.
"Samuel Oak is an old acquaintance of mine. I'll ask him if he can arrange something for you."
Mawile stared wide-eyed. This wasn't real, was it?
"—but only if you promise to put a curb on your gluttony. The world isn't divided into things that are food and things that aren't."
Mawile mentally shrugged her off. Mabel wasn't a mawile, so it was natural that she wouldn't understand.
Mabel rolled her eyes at Mawile's facial expressions. "I'll tell you now. It is this stubborn streak of yours that has kept me from letting you go. If you disappoint Samuel or the trainer he gives you, then I'm afraid he'll send you back here right away."
That attracted Mawile's attention. So, she wasn't being set free, but only on a leash. Well that she could manage. Worst comes to worst, if the human turned out to be an imbecile, she'd just swallow him whole, and then walk her happy way out into the world. She could imagine that happening perfectly, but with that being said, she'd make it a point to try and compromise with this 'human trainer'. She owed this Oak human that much for being the ticket to her freedom.
Present day
Mawile clenched her trainer's shirt with her powerful jaws, holding him to herself as they were pushed down the river by the surprisingly gentle current. From what she had understood from her trainer's ramblings over the past day, Viridian City was located somewhere downstream, which meant that they were still on track, albeit in a more unconventional manner. Her trainer had given up trying to fight back against the current, and they were now trying to get closer to the river bank on the left. So far, their attempts had been futile, but at least they were drifting closer to the sides than being dragged down by the rushing water.
"Just a little more," Red gasped, before coughing loudly. "The currents are slower here. We should try again."
"…wile!" Mawile muttered, revaluating her approach to her situation. The last two weeks had been invested in getting to know her trainer and he was as mad as they came, what with his ridiculous obsession towards those large, fire-breathing, winged beasts. He was her ticket to freedom, however, and before the time they spent together, she planned to ditch this human the moment they set out of town.
Now though…
Red might be a tad overzealous for her tastes, but there was no doubt that the human deeply cared for her. From the interactions between him and the other fairy, it was fairly obvious that her trainer was someone who instinctively cared for those he considered his own. Over the time he had spent with her—first at the ranch, and then during their trip, he had always ensured that Mawile got her share of food, rest and other needs even before considering his own. It almost felt… nice. Of course, Mawile knew that as a trainer, Red was supposed to capture pokémon, but that hadn't stopped her from going ahead with her own consumption ritual, every time she saw something edible. She understood that her behavior back with the other human and the fire-lizard was suboptimal; the incident with the avian even less so.
But Red hadn't deserted her. He had stood against that scary specimen of a fearow to protect her, even though Mawile knew that her chances of survival were infinitely greater than his own. She had expected him to order her to attack, and use the diversion to escape. Not wanting to become Red's scapegoat, Mawile had instead sprinted off.
Imagine her surprise when she stopped after a couple of yards, and turned back, only to find Red making a stand to protect her, only to realize that his protectorate had ditched him. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so cruel.
Mawile half-expected Red to run the other way, uncaring of the fact that her short feet weren't optimal for sprinting, and that she'd be preyed upon by the spearow flock. The sad thing was, Mawile couldn't even blame him. After all, she was the one that got them into the mess in the first place.
Instead, Red had run towards her, held her up in his arms, and sprinted off as fast as he could, regardless of the fact that he had the vicious flock chasing behind him. The proper thing to do was to drop Mawile and save his own life, yet instead, Red had chosen the opposite.
He had thrown caution to the wind and leaped straight off the cliff, directly into the fast-flowing river beneath.
It felt odd, to be treated like that. Even back at home, Mawile was a rebel. She was used to fighting against authority. She was used to not getting what she wanted. She was used to utilizing deception and charm to get things done her way, which often translated to prioritizing herself over others.
Which was why it was natural that Mawile was caught off-guard on finding a human putting more importance on her life than his own. It felt odd, but a good kind of odd. And Mawile didn't know how to deal with it.
"Are you okay?" Red breathed, one hand holding a firm grasp on Mawile's lithe form while using the other to navigate his way through the currents. It was ironic, since Mawile looked completely safe, albeit wet, while Red looked like he had been through the grinder.
See? This kind of contradictory behavior was exactly what she was talking about.
…Stupid human trainer.
She nodded her head in acknowledgment. Red might not know this, but Mawile was an expert swimmer. More importantly, she was used to the fast-flowing streams in the icy mountains, where the waters were bitterly cold, and the currents almost cut through skin. If Mawile didn't have to drag her deadweight trainer, who to be honest was doing more to sink them with all his flailing about, she would have gotten out long ago.
The duo slowly drifted towards the riverbank, before Mawile grabbed one of the thicker roots of the Occa berry tree on the bank. A while later and they ended up collapsed on the bank completely drenched in water and exhausted, Red more so than her.
"Heh!" Red laughed awkwardly, rubbing his wet hair with his equally wet hand. "At least our stuff's safe. Thankfully the bag is waterproof." He shook his head wildly in a futile attempt to get rid of the excess water and the—
Mawile arched an eyebrow.
"We should probably head up to the Pokémon Center." Red went on. "I know they provide rooms for trainers, and a warm bed sounds amazing right now. We can get you a quick check-up there as well, just to make sure everything's all right."
Mawile kept staring at Red's head, specifically at the strange object that sat there inconspicuously, at least, as far as her dopey trainer was concerned. That or Red was way too exhausted to even notice the thing attached to his head.
"Uh… is there something on my face? Why are you staring at me like that?"
Yep, definitely dopey. Mawile decided. Taking pity on her trainer, she slowly extended her steel jaws and plucked the object off his head, uncaring that said object pulled out several of Red's hairs causing him to yelp out in pain.
"What are you doing, why did you—?" Red stopped midway, noticing that she had something between her jaws. It seemed like two pieces of darkish purple shell clammed together, with a pale crimson tongue hanging out of it. Mawile deposited the object into Red's hand, who instantly realized what it was he was looking at.
"A shellder." He exclaimed. "This little thing was on my head? Hell, I didn't even notice it." He pulled out the pokédex from his belt, scanning the creature with it.
"Shellder, the bivalve pokémon. It is encased in a shell that is harder than diamond. Inside, however, it is surprisingly tender."
Red pressed for more information just like the professor had demonstrated several times for him earlier.
"Once a shellder latches onto something, its entire body seems to become as light as air, despite maintaining the steel-like strength of the shell. In most cases, the victim doesn't even realize a shellder is biting it. Shellder's tongue secretes an anesthetic that prevents its victim from registering its presence."
"Well, that explains it," Red muttered, as he stared at the shellder in his hands. "This little guy must have latched onto my hair when we were swimming. I didn't even feel it on my head."
The little guy in question, let out a muffled 'shill', two tiny eyes poking out from the inky darkness within its shell.
"Now what to do with you. Do you want to go back into the river?"
The shellder just stared back at him.
"...or not, perhaps?"
More staring.
"I… suppose I can take you to the Pokémon Center as well." Red finally decided, one of his fingers going dangerously close to the bivalve pokémon. With frightening speed, the shellder latched onto the tip of his ring finger, the two cusps of his shell applying a suction force, literally zipping his finger into the shell.
Red raised his finger in the air, curiously admiring the near weightlessness of its presence before he tried to pull it off from his finger.
"Strange. I don't even feel it at all." He muttered before going ahead to experiment with it even more. He tried pushing it away, tried pulling it back, and at some point, even Mawile bit into its shell, trying to pull it out.
It was all in vain.
"Okay, Okay, I think we can stop it at that," Red exclaimed warily, seeing Mawile prepare an Iron Head attack. He wasn't sure what it would do to the little water-type, but the force behind the attack could easily shatter a finger bone or two.
Mawile paused midway, and cocked her head to one side, as if in confusion at her trainer's sudden reaction.
"I guess we'll simply take it with us. As a souvenir if nothing else. What do you say? Besides, it's a shellder, right? Their evolutions are rather powerful from what I remember. Let's get to the Center first. We'll find a way to get…" He glanced at the silent water-type again. "—get it off."
Mawile shrugged her shoulders, as if to say 'Whatever'.
Pokémon Centers were one of the many services that the league maintained for the benefit of traveling trainers. In Kanto, the Indigo League made it a point to install at least one Center in every single city and town as well as in every route that required more than two weeks of travel time. These service points were in effect, a hotel, a medical clinic, and a ration store combined. Lead by a head nurse and several other medics, the Pokémon Centers were provided with advanced and up-to-date medical equipment, enabling them to restore a pokémon from most injuries.
At first sight, the service point appeared quite bland. A triple-storeyed building with whitewashed walls both in and out, and a large pokéball around six feet in diameter on top of the building. There was a larger lush, green, walled area to the left, which was probably the miniature ranch for still-recovering pokémon to relax before their eventual release. He could even see some trainers sitting and interacting with their pokémon.
Mawile pulled at his jeans.
"Yeah, right. Let's move on." Red murmured, walking into the Center.
The insides were pretty much the same as the outside—little to no decoration and bland, whitewashed walls. There was a large helpdesk in the front, with the receptionist—dressed in a nurse uniform with a chansey for companion. It was pretty much the common design for these Centers—a nurse and a chansey, and in some uncommon cases like in Celadon—a wigglytuff, though they were rather rare—standing at the reception, taking in requests for healing pokémon, or directing trainers to the other end of the Center, should they wish to purchase rations and ingredients. Apart from the plain white reception table, there were two cherry blossom plants potted on either side of the entrance.
"Welcome to Viridian City Pokémon Center." The nurse replied in a calm, practiced tone, accompanied by a soft smile. "How may we assist you?"
"Uh well…" He knew that he could acquire certain services from Pokémon Centers, a benefit of being a trainer, but the finer details escaped him. "What do I— Uhm—?"
The nurse smiled softly. "I take it this is your first time visiting a Pokémon Center?"
Red nodded.
"In that case, allow me to get you up to speed in that subject. I presume you have your Trainer ID?"
Red plucked his Pokédex out and placed it on the desk.
"Ah. That will do," The nurse went on animatedly. "You can get a room for up to two days at any of our Centers for a subsidized fee of 200 pokédollars per day. You are also allowed free medical check-ups and treatment for your pokémon, to a certain extent. If your pokémon sustain third-degree injuries or higher, your pokémon will need to be transferred to our local medic unit, at your expense."
"What about food?" Red asked.
"It is included in the price for the room. Even If you are not interested in lodging, you can get the standard meals at the cafeteria for twenty pokédollars. Food for pokémon is free."
"Free?" Red choked. A major issue with catching several pokémon was food. Even though there was no limit on caught pokémon, malnutrition or starvation of captured pokémon was strongly condemned, and subject to a hefty fine and the possible suspension of a trainer's license. This key reason forced trainers to limit their teams to pokémon they could afford to feed properly.
"I was told that I could purchase food packs and first aid from the Center," Red continued.
"That is partly correct," The nurse interjected. "Trainers are allowed to purchase rations at low costs from the Centers. However, if you need to purchase restore packs and medicines, you'll need to visit a Departmental store or a Pokémart, depending upon the town or city you are in."
Red blinked at the rather mechanical tone; the woman seemed to prefer. He assumed it was simply a case of repeating the same things over and over from behind the desk for years.
"I… my pokémon need treatment."
The nurse casually glanced at the shellder hanging on Red's left arm. "Does that too count as your pokémon?"
"It's not actually mine. It kind of… latched onto me, while we were being swept down the river," Red admitted sheepishly, before curiously observing the water-type again. "It didn't seem to want to get off, so I kind of carried it here."
The Nurse pressed her lips in slight amusement. "You certainly know how to make an entrance."
Red looked down in embarrassment.
"The Presbyterian river has shown a large increase of shellder in recent months, so this is not the first case of someone coming in with a shellder stuck to their body. I can arrange for it to be returned to the river if you wish?"
"Ummm, no. I was thinking if I could keep it?" He answered unsurely. "It's the first pokémon I have apart from my starter."
"Sentiments," The woman muttered. "They come in all forms." Taking another glance at the bivalve pokémon, she continued. "You should pull its tongue softly. That will release its hold on you without injuring it," She paused. "I'd request you do it after reaching your room."
"Oh, umm, sure," Red wasn't sure what to reply. "Well, thanks for that, and," he looked down at his starter, "Mawile needs treatment."
"…wile?" Mawile demanded accusingly. Her human had better not portray her as some weakling. Sure she had made some mistakes, and very recently as well, but that did not mean that she was out of commission in any shape or form.
"Come on now, we both know that you got a little injured in that fight against Ritchie and swimming in the river must have exhausted you. The nurse will get you to perfect condition in no time."
Mawile arched an eyebrow. So that was what it's about. Instantly her expressions shifted back to her casual charms.
"Maaaaw…" She cooed at the woman. The nurse didn't stand a chance.
"What a cute little pokémon you have." The nurse literally walked out of her desk, and picked Mawile up, suppressing her urge to cuddle it. "She's not from around here, is she? I have never seen anything like her."
Mawile cooed again. Obviously, that did nothing to decrease the potency of her charm.
"Yeah, Mawile's not from around here and—"
The nurse was busy codling Mawile. "Oh, aren't you the cutest? Here have this." She lifted a rather large jar that looked overwhelmingly heavy for someone of her physical stature and took out what looked like a tiny cake of sorts. "These are called poképuffs. Try it."
Mawile hesitated for a moment, before sniffing the little cake. Looking almost intoxicated with its sweet scent, she grabbed the poképuff from her hand before retreating behind Red, almost as if she was afraid it would be taken away. Then she carefully bit into it.
Mawile's face instantly took on a blissful expression. It was soooo yummy! Mawile could nibble on these poképuffs all day, and never get tired of them.
"Hehe!" The nurse laughed. "Do you want another?"
Nod. Another nod. And then another. And never once during the nods, did Mawile lose her sight of the large jar that contained the most delightful delicacies in all the world.
That made the nurse laugh harder.
Red coughed.
"Excuse me?" The nurse asked as if Red was the one interrupting a private moment. For all she cared, it might as well be. "Is there anything else you need?"
"—some food and board for the day," Red muttered, in a slightly forced tone.
"Ah, right." The Nurse looked embarrassed. "Sorry, I got side-tracked a bit, you know… ehehehe!"
"Right." Red sighed, just wanting to get it over with.
"Anyway," The nurse glanced at the pokédex from the desk. "I'll need your identification, please."
The trainer pushed his pokédex towards the nurse, who slotted it into her terminal, bringing up his details on the monitor.
"Red Ketchum from Pallet Town. Everything seems proper, though I wasn't expecting a rookie. Aren't you, a little late?"
"Wow. Did you figure that out all by yourself?" Red muttered.
"What?"
"…nothing."
The nurse almost rolled her eyes, before giving him a key. "Room 105, second floor to the left. Second last room on the corridor. Meals will be delivered to your room on time."
"Right, thanks." Red gratefully accepted the key. His expenses would be automatically deducted from the bank account connected to his license and Pokédex, a boon from a near cashless economy. He turned towards Mawile.
"I'm going to put you in your pokéball and give it to the nurse."
Mawile glared at him, before throwing a longing look at the jars. Then she glanced back at Red, and then back at the nurse. Her mind made, she put on her best charms and walked up to the nurse, before rubbing her face against her skirt.
The nurse swooned.
"Mawile…" Red called with some hesitation. 'It is time to return to your pokéball so that the nurse can take you for treatment."
"Oh no, it's okay. I'll just carry her." Mawile made cute noises as the nurse picked her up. Unseen by both Red and the nurse, however, her eyes flickered to the poképuff jar in a decidedly sinister fashion.
Red forwarded Mawile's empty pokéball to the nurse, who placed it on the tray.
"We'll send someone with Mawile's pokéball to your room, even if you are not there. A PC terminal is available in the room for any imports. Please note that usage of the PC terminal comes with extra charges. Have a happy stay, Mr. Ketchum."
Red nodded, before turning around to leave. Remembering something, he paused at his second step and looked back. "About the registration for the gym circuit…"
If not for the Aiden Mountain Range on the south-western border, Kanto and Johto could have been one great land. Ancient historical sources indicated that Kanto and Johto were two adjacent kingdoms constantly at war. In fact, some four hundred years ago, the House of Cameran of Kanto, and the House of Blackthorne of Johto had been bitter rivals, facing each other at numerous fronts feuding for territory and resources.
This went on for generations until a forced peace was rendered due to the entry of a third party into the war. A certain tribe of draconids from the Meteor Village of Hoenn, who called themselves the Wataru Clan. The Wataru and their army of dragonite had faced off the Blackthorne and their army of haxorus. Unfortunately, the cost of this "peace" had been the massacre of over half the population of both regions. The Blackthorne clan had been forced to flee back to their original homeland in the Nordic Mountains of Unova while close ties developed between the House of Cameran and the Wataru clan.
With the relations thriving, future generations witnessed an amalgamation of the two regions, which ultimately came to be known as the Kanto-Johto mainland. This was emphasized by the fact that both Kanto and Johto were led by a single Champion and Elite Four group. Further, both Kanto and Johto each had exactly eight gyms, thus offering a total of sixteen badges. Any eight badges from the above sixteen was enough to allow a trainer to qualify for both the Indigo Conference of Kanto and the Silver Conference of Johto. While the Indigo Conference was held in mid-August, the Silver Conference took place in early-February, providing two chances for a participant to try his luck at the Leagues. Signing up for the Indigo Circuit made one eligible to try for the Silver circuit as well, and vice versa.
A little after Red had stepped into Room 105, he had his first visitor, a chansey holding a parcel in her tiny hands. The pokémon had handed him the parcel, before cutely bowing and leaving the room. Bemused and curious, Red postponed his initial plans of taking a shower and unfolded the package.
The package contained several pages of official documentation, validated by his ID, which proved that he was registered and qualified to participate in the Gym circuits spanning over the Kanto-Johto mainland. There were also letters of sponsorship from Professor Oak, which indicated that he was registered to a legitimate ranch, and was not engaged in any kind of poaching or illegal activity over the last thirty-six months as well as three sets of maps. The first two of them explored the geography of Kanto and Johto respectively, revealing the most direct and alternative paths between cities, along with the important landmarks and other minutiae while the third map charted out the different gyms in each region and also provided helpful information on the gym leaders.
"Damn, the league doesn't do things by halves, eh?" He muttered, running his free hand through his hair. "This is some pretty serious stuff. It's gonna take me ages to go over all of this. Why don't they teach any of this in school? It would probably be more useful than the endless history lessons."
Taking a marker, he circled the locations that caught his eye. "I have Viridian, Pewter, Cerulean, Vermillion, Saffron, Celadon, Fuchsia and Cinnabar on this end," Red mused to himself, analyzing the map in front of him. "Out of this, Viridian, Saffron, Vermilion and Cinnabar have the lowest success rate." He casually observed that the Viridian and Cinnabar gym had the same value for successful winners over the past year.
Zero.
He mentally shivered at that. "I'm definitely not gunning for Viridian at the moment. Maybe Pewter is a better option." He traced a finger through the map and found that the only route between Viridian and Pewter City was through the famous (or infamous, depending upon the context) Viridian Forest. The alternative was to take a ferry to Cremini Town and then travel along the road to Cerulean city. However, Pewter City had a gym based on the rock-type, and Mawile would hold an advantage against rock-types, courtesy of her steel nature and her control over ice attacks. Cerulean, for the same reasons, would be nothing short of a nightmare for Mawile as she was at the moment.
Water. Another type that uses its terrain to its advantage.
He glanced at the map again. Viridian Forest was a community of bug and grass-type pokémon, and one of the largest in the world. Chances were high that he'd be able to catch one there.
Provided Mawile doesn't eat it first.
He shuddered, remembering his experience with the Fearow flock. No, if anything, he needed to train Mawile before they left for the forest. They had been lucky once before. He really didn't want to test his luck a second time.
Speaking of which, he was wondering about Mawile's latest hobby. She had acquired a potted plant, from god knows where and was storing it in his room. This was odd for two reasons— firstly because Mawile had never really showed the slightest interest towards gardening in general. In fact, she hadn't even glanced at Kaz's flower garden. The second was that he had no idea where on earth she had gotten the damned plant in the first place.
And that was not to mention just how dangerously protective she was of her plant. She had even made it clear that she wasn't above snapping at him with her jaws. The first time had been enough to leave an impression in his mind.
That said, it was probably for the best that he let it go for now. Who knew, perhaps this was the same side of her that liked healing other baby pokémon and taking care of them. Besides, it was a good habit, so why bother? Right?
Deserting that line of thought, he glanced down at the map again. He drew a blue line connecting Viridian, Pewter and Cerulean cities, with Viridian Forest and Mt. Moon being intermediary points between them. Both locations were famous for wild pokémon, and if everything went according to plan, securing the first two badges shouldn't be any trouble.
That was the plan, anyway.
He glanced at the third map again, spotting the details about the Viridian City gym.
Giovanni. Earth Master. Success rate: Abysmal. Open only to Mid-Intermediate trainers and above.
It was almost ironic that Pallet Town was the only place closest to three of the four top gyms in Kanto, Red mused. Viridian was the closest city to his hometown, with Pallet Forest bridging in between. Cinnabar Island was a direct passage through the ocean, should one take the ferry from Pallet. Vermillion was directly accessible from the west coast, right past Mt. Hideaway. The only one far away was Saffron City, unless he considered paying for psychic transportation.
"Hmmm, enough about that." Red sighed, before lifting his other hand and observing the shellder, who was still attached to his person. "You know," he addressed the silent water-type. "I have no idea what to do with you, little buddy." He gently poked into the utter blackness that was the innards of the shellder's shell, watching it's pale crimson tongue slowly roll out. Remembering the nurse's words, he grabbed its tongue and pulled it softly.
Shellder squeaked, and instantly the valves opened, letting his finger free. The bivalve pokémon dropped down onto the bed beside him and began to make odd, shrill noises.
"So that's the trick to get you off," Red observed. Shellder, much like slowpoke and magikarp, were considered to be the lowlifes of the Pokémon world. The only reason they were bred in large scales was that slowpoke tails were considered a delicacy, and magikarp made for a good meal. To his knowledge, shellder were actively bred by several jewelry brands, owing to their ability to produce pearls inside their valves. As far as fighting potential was considered, however, shellder had none. Period.
That said, there was another side to shellder's story, something that had kept Red from throwing it away into the water from the very start.
He checked in with his Pokédex, and soon enough, he found the requested data.
Cloyster. The bivalve pokémon. It is the evolved form of shellder. Cloyster are capable of swimming in the sea. They do so by swallowing water, then jetting it out toward the rear. This pokémon shoots spikes from its shell using the same system. The shell is extremely hard. It is almost impossible to break through blunt force. The shell opens only when it is attacking.
Red checked in into the research entries section, made on Cloyster and added to the Pokédex by other researchers. It was apparently one of the extra features that made the National Dex so sought after by elite-level trainers.
Shellder can take from decades to centuries to naturally evolve into a cloyster. However, forceful evolution is possible through the usage of a Water Stone. Considering cloyster's potential as a battler, shellder are often captured and evolved into cloyster forcibly. Cloyster are extremely intelligent and forcefully-evolved cloyster tend to be extremely distrustful of their trainers and have contributed to several deaths in the past decades. Synthetically-evolved cloyster are reported to be significantly weaker than naturally evolved ones, although the population of the latter ones are extremely rare.
"That's… interesting." Red mused aloud, poking at the little guy's shell. "Evolving you earlier may kill me but you can't really fight as you are now. That doesn't sound fair to me." He paused for a moment. "Then again, you are my first capture, and I don't really want to let you go."
Shellder didn't react to his ongoing monologue.
"Damn it." Red cursed softly. "I'm keeping you. I might regret this a few years down the line, but I'm keeping you." He plucked out an empty pokéball and softly pressed the button against its outer layer. The device opened up, and in a burst of red light, the shellder was sucked inside it.
'Ding!'
"Congratulations, Red Ketchum, you've just captured your first pokémon." Red congratulated himself bitterly. "And now, let's get you checked." He scanned his new capture with the Pokédex, and just as expected, new information came flowing in.
Shellder, the bivalve pokémon. The shell can withstand any attack. However, when it is open, the tender body is exposed. Shellder swims facing backward by opening and closing its shell. It is surprisingly fast.
More information flooded in.
This shellder is male. It knows Water Gun, Clamp and Withdraw.
"So it can open and close its shell," Red muttered, cupping his chin with his left palm. "Um, Shellder, I'd like you to use Water Gun, though preferably not—"
Shellder let out another shill like sound before it sneezed.
"—on me." Red finished lamely.
Dozens of water droplets shot out of its valves, smearing Red's face. Mission accomplished, Shellder let out a squeak, before relaxing its shell. The moment it did that, almost half a liter of water came bubbling out of its valves, seeping down to the floor.
"I get fonder of this baby by the second," Red declared sardonically. "Never you mind, we are done and now I'll get back to my shower. Stay there and don't—"
Almost magnetically, Shellder leaped off from its position and affixed itself onto the thickest mop of his hair.
At least this one has its priorities straight.
He glanced at the dex again.
A water-type that's confused about when to release pressure for Water Gun. Never thought I'd see something like that.
Most water-types, even baby ones, were naturally attuned to the concept of pressure. Water Gun, in essence, was the act of drawing enough water, building up the pressure to the necessary amount, and then releasing the water in the desired fashion and direction. From what he could see, Shellder had built the pressure, and let it go, before the necessary water had even begun accumulating within it. As a result, the entire pressure had come out like a sneeze, firing out whatever little water has built up inside its valves.
It didn't feel nice. At all.
As soon as the shellder had relaxed after that, it accumulated the necessary water, and then let it out, without any pressure, through its mouth. So, it wasn't so much as getting the steps wrong but the order.
Another thing to think about.
"It doesn't matter." He finally declared, addressing the oblivious water-type on his head. "Shellder are definitely capable of basic moves at the very least. It's because of their low learning potential that they are treated like scraps, rejected, or forcefully evolved. Well, that's not going to happen here, little guy. You are on Red's team, which means you earn your keep."
Shellder continued his imitation of a half-decent stalagmite.
"Just you wait." Red pronounced. "I'll have you learn at least one basic attack before we leave Viridian City."
Meanwhile in Pallet Town
"I presume that the evidence supplied should suffice." Samuel Oak spoke with a voice that allowed no argument, as he stared at the League official in front of him. The other man, a somewhat timid blonde-haired fellow in his late thirties, nodded earnestly.
"It will do, sir." The official stood up, "Though I'm somewhat surprised that it was you who filed this complaint. Surely the victim could have sought out justice from one of our Police Squads in Viridian city?"
"The victim in question is my assistant, and he has just started out on his journey." He sighed. "An Alakazam, whom I had sent to look out for the child, witnessed the entire incident. As you will find out, it was forced to intervene to prevent potentially fatal harm to the victim. "
"Ritchie Kent, from Frodomar City." The official surmised. "Standard protocol dictates an immediate suspension Trainer ID, effective until the case is closed, followed by an open testimony in the Police Station of whichever city he is found in. Further punishment is decided depending on how the case is ruled. Given the nature of the offense, and because the victim was not actually injured, punishment could range from a three-month suspension with monetary fines, to putting him in custody, and sending him to court." He paused. "Our department actually acted a little differently this time and sent me to verify it. It's not every day you get contacted by an ex-Champion."
"I do hope that your department will be a little lenient on the boy. From what I understand, he acted in a fit of rage, both at his own defeat and at his pokémon's impairment. While some form of punishment is necessary, I'd request a minimal sentence. Some of his pokémon suffered permanent damage and that is a punishment in itself. To be frank I'd have preferred it if Red had lodged the complaint on his own, but…"
"Either way, I'm glad for it, sir." The official replied. "At the very least, it brought the reclusive Champion Oak back into the political sphere."
"Please don't call me that." The old man waved off. "I am a scientist. And I'm not re-entering the political world, just lodging a complaint. Treat it like a damned complaint, not an announcement for a ministry ball."
He blinked at that. The fifty-year-old man hadn't realized that he had used a cuss-word while dealing with a diplomat.
Looks like Red had been brushing off on me more than I realized.
"Forgive me, but I cannot help but feel curious about this… trainer. Red Ketchum. Only son of your assistant, and one of the highest scorers in this year's examinations. We had actually thought that your grandson might be the victim, but it turned out to be…"
Personally, Samuel wished the man would grow a backbone and speak freely. Then again, this was a bureaucrat. What else did he expect? They'd bend over to display formality even if it cost them their heads.
"Red is one of my best students, and I know his potential. I'm just looking out for one of my own. That's all."
"Samuel Oak using his own power to enforce justice, and on his own initiative? I'd claim it's more than just someone you care for." The man countered. "Even Champion Lance has taken note of the issue."
Samuel felt an irresistible urge to groan out loud. "I didn't know that the Champion keeps track of the Trainer Complaints and Regulations Department."
"He doesn't, but my boss does. Divan thought that someone on the Plateau might be interested, and forwarded it."
"And it reached Lance's office?" Oak asked incredulously.
"Forgive me, sir, but you must understand the situation. Surely, someone from the Plateau told you about Lady Agatha?"
"I… heard about her decision to retire. I thought they'd put Koga in her place should she withdraw from her duties."
"Sir Koga is currently being considered for the newly created Johto Elite Four, along with Sir Will and Lady Claire. The Kanto Elite Four has been stretched too thin over the past few years. Not to put things indelicately, but the Johto Elite will basically be assistants to the main Elite Four, and responsible for taking over the responsibilities of the Johto region. Even Lady Sabrina will probably be invited for a possible Elite Four trainee in the future, but…"
"Sabrina is too flighty." Oak surmised.
The bureaucrat cringed at the ex-Champion's overtly crude description. "Yes, Lady Sabrina is too… high-spirited, to hold the seat of an Elite. Maybe in the future, if her overall outlook towards things changes a little… regardless, she has made it clear that she has no intention of leaving Saffron city for the forseeable future."
Oak nodded.
"If it is not too bold to say, perhaps you might be interested to take up the position of the First?" The man all but whispered. "It is for good reason that even today, people revere Samuel Oak, even without your grand achievements in the field of pokédex technology."
Oak rubbed the apex of his nose. He had no idea how this conversation had morphed from a simple complaint to a bureaucratic proposal for a government position. "No, I have made my position pretty clear. I'll not become the First."
"But sir—"
"I said NO!"
The official wisely kept silent.
Oak sighed. The Elite Four members were in effect, the four pillars that upheld the military government in Kanto and Johto. The Champion usually held his position for a period of five years, before a re-election occurred through a traditional trial by combat, in which the challenger had to defeat the Champion. People like Lance had occupied the position for over 15 years simply by staying unparalleled. Oak had only stepped down because of his own desire to, not because he was defeated. The Elite Four, however, were very different.
Unlike the position of Champion, an Elite Four was someone who kept his title until he voluntarily retired from that position, usually handing it down to a suitable successor said Elite had specifically trained and molded to take his place in the future. Agatha, the oldest of the Elite Four, held her post for over thirty years now. Even though a Champion was the political face of the nation, the Elite Four were the strongholds that kept the entire structure stable. They defended the entire region in times of strife and tended to be even more powerful than the Champions themselves.
For one, only a gym leader could ascend to the position of an Elite Four, with the exception of prior Champions such as Oak. Unlike a Champion who was required to hold a single Champion-tier pokémon, gain approval from the Elite Four, and defeat the current reigning Champion, a gym leader had to attain a Champion-level team of 4 or greater, and display the strength to at least survive against a Legendary, to take up the Elite Four position. Lady Agatha had fought against the legendary beast of the north, Suicune, cementing her position in the Elite Four. That said, even amongst the four generals, they held their own ranks. Presently, Agatha had the position of the First, with Bruno, Lorelei, and Karen holding the subsequent positions of Second, Third and Fourth.
"Lady Agatha mentioned that you might not." The official muttered.
"And yet you could not help yourself from trying?" Oak replied sardonically. "For goodness's sake, ask old Blaine. He'd do a fine job."
"Sir Blaine has refused to leave his research for, in his own words, political bullshit."
"And Giovanni will not leave Viridian." Oak sighed.
"That too." The man muttered.
"Tell you what." the ex-Champion groaned, "Be a little lenient on the lad when you deal with him. He might have acted rashly, but I don't want that one mistake to shatter his dreams as a trainer. Do that, and I'll see what I can do about your Elite Four problem."
The official looked at him with a disgruntled expression. "All right, sir. I'll see what I can do."
Pokémarts were, in general, a shopping mall for all things related to pokémon. Need a full restore, a potion or even a basic healing paste? Need to check on the latest influx of pokéteches or traveling equipment? Hell, even if you wanted to get yourself a cool T-shirt, you'd likely find it in a pokémart. Besides, with Silph Co. and Devon Corp., the two companies invested in pokéball production being active investors in the Pokémart business model, any new Silph or Devon product would be on the pokémart shelves before it appeared anywhere else in the market. This in part was why the Pokémart held such a large monopoly over the sale of trainer products.
And then, there was the crown jewel to consider, TMs.
TM, an acronym for Technical Machine was a rather new invention that had been patented a little over three decades ago. TM's had become every trainer's top purchase. An electromagnetic canister, in which a particular pokémon's memories could be recorded, by virtue of advanced psychic manipulation of memories. Once done, the instrument could be used to transplant the copied memories into another pokémon. For instance, the move Aqua Jet could be taught to a pokémon that was technically capable of learning it naturally but had yet to do so. The implications of the discovery were nothing short of mind-boggling.
Back in the old days, a charmander needed to work its way through Ember, learning how to slowly coalesce its flames into a singular, more potent version, commonly known as Flame Burst. Further manipulation of the fire element, as well as higher temperature and volume, was necessary to progress into Flamethrower, something that could take months. Acquiring the above was remarkably simple, though it took several months, if not over a year of constant training to reach an adequate level of competency over Flamethrower. More often than not, said charmander would have already evolved into a charmeleon or even its final form, charizard before that happened.
The problems usually began after that.
The next step down the line was Fire Blast. It involved incorporating the tremendous volume of Flamethrower, into an extremely pressured, controlled, potent, and most importantly, a singular congregation of flames, followed by swift and decisive redirection of the attack towards the enemy.
It took years, and at times, decades to master something like that. In fact, Fire Master Blaine actually held the record for having his magmar learn Fire Blast within three years— the fastest for any fire-type in history.
The invention of TMs changed this facet of the pokémon world.
With TMs, it was possible to copy the muscle memory of Fire Blast from a magmar and transfer it into all other magmar that didn't know it. Of course, learning something like Fire Blast has certain prerequisites in terms of energy usage and manipulation, but both Ember and Flamethrower were also sold as TMs and pokémon would usually work their way through the lower ones before they reached the higher ones. The discovery had met with several negative responses by the traditionalist section of the society, who felt that the mass-production of TMs would cheapen the growth and development process as a whole. Despite the tough resistance, the intervention and support of the newly crowned Champion Lance resulted in TMs surviving and becoming an integral part of the Pokémon world.
Over the course of the next five years, the pokémon world was flooded with Technical Machines, copying more and more moves, and making it commercial in the market. By the end of the fourth year after it's release, Silph Co. funded the creation of special counters all over Kanto and Johto, one that allowed experienced trainers that had developed their original moves, to patent and sell. These special TMs were branded as Move Tutors, and were incredibly high-priced, compared to the normal, mass-produced general ones. That said, Move Tutors were moves of extremely high versatility or damage potential, and were only sold to those that had the penny to purchase it.
The industry grew by leaps and bounds, until the next generation of TMs, the second generation Technical Machines were released some fifteen years ago. Before this, TMs created from a magmar's memory could only be transplanted into a magmar. Moves learned by a blastoise could only be transplanted into a blastoise and so on.
The second generation changed everything.
Now, it was possible for a Hydro Pump move, recorded from a blastoise, to be implanted into a poliwrath. It was now possible to transfer a Focus Blast, learned from a machamp, to be transplanted into a hitmonchan.
The pokémon world was never the same. It also brought another revolutionary addition to the world of move-sets. Now, it was possible for a psychic-type, such as a kadabra, to be able to learn and successfully perform Shadow Ball, a ghost-type move. At the same time, it is quite possible for a ghost-type, like the haunter line, to learn psychic attacks like Psychic or Hypnosis. Such freedom of transferring moves amongst the different types increased the diversity of pokémon moves which massively increased the complexity of battles.
Of course, it was still far from perfect. For instance, it was almost impossible, for say a charizard, to learn something like Water Gun, or for a blastoise to learn Flamethrower. That was why, researchers at Silph Co. and Devon Corp. were presently studying the physiology of the dragon and the fairy-types, the former because of its versatility and affinity towards all elemental typings and the later due to its affinity with the ghost and psychic typings.
Nowadays, all trainers used TMs to accelerate their pokémons growth. And Red was no exception.
Red stood in front of the rows of shelves, trying to keep himself from salivating like a thirsty dog. In front of him were the latest section of TMs, and more importantly, rows of Move Tutors. His fingers twitched as he regarded the item sitting right in front of him, as if taunting him.
MOVE TUTOR: STEALTH ROCK. OWNER: BROCK PEBBLEMAN.
How exactly was he supposed to keep his mind calm, walk through these endless rows of powerful moves, and be content with the single choice he could afford?
Never thought I'd curse myself for my stubbornness. Here I could probably buy it all if not for…
He sighed. When he had started out on his journey, Delia had transferred a total of eight thousand pokédollars to his account and opened an extra credit line of fifty thousand— regardless of his refusal—so that he might be able to take care of himself first without any worries. But with the way he had grown up, Red had developed an independent streak that kept him from depending upon his mother for anything.
Especially since I'm ignoring her suggestions.
Suppressing his urges, he calmly walked to the counter at the end, ignoring the part of his mind that wanted to rob the pokémart then and there. He idly noticed the section near the door, the one that held items under the banner 'Standard TMs for trainers. Special discount on choice products!'
Finally done with browsing, he picked out a single cylindrical contraption with the words THUNDER WAVE printed over it in large, bold letters. He paused for a moment, before his gaze shifted to the DOUBLE TEAM section, and after another few seconds, he pulled out two of those as well. Double Team, being a beginner-level evasion technique, was one of the cheapest TMs in the market, and often sold at high discounts when purchased in bulk. Without further delay, he walked up with three canisters, and stood in front of the main check-in counter, looking slightly peaky at having to walk away from the treasures behind him.
"Yes?" The receptionist asked.
"One Stealth— I mean, one Thunder Wave, and two Double Team Standards, please." He placed the three canisters on the desk and took out his pokédex in advance.
"May I see your ID please?"
Red forwarded the pokédex to her. The receptionist, a woman in her late forties, smiled and inserted the pokédex into one of the slots, the electronic transaction process completing successfully. A tiny strand of paper slowly printed out from the printer on the table. The receptionist tore it off, and handed it to Red, along with his pokédex. "Thank you for visiting Viridian Pokémart. Please visit the counter on your way downstairs to the right. You can get the TMs inculcated there."
Red nodded, and took up the three contraptions, stuffing his Pokédex back into his belt pocket. It was time to visit the Counter on the ground floor.
Soon, he told himself. Soon Mawile would have an ace up her sleeve, and the next time she faced an avian, it would turn out very, very differently.
"So, guys, do you feel… any different?"
Mawile cocked her head to the left with a quizzical expression. Shellder did a remarkable imitation of a fallen pebble.
Red sweatdropped. He had heard of TMs not working because of their incompatibility with the recipient or the recipient's lack of power or other weird esoteric requirements. He dearly hoped that wasn't the case here.
"Okay, let's try this the other way." He calmed himself, taking a deep breath. "Mawile, do you remember that move used by the taillow? Double Team?"
Mawile nodded. Of course, she remembered the avian perform it. Come to think of it, it wasn't as spectacular as it had appeared back then. It barely required any psychic energy to create illusory images of oneself. Maintaining them after projection was slightly difficult, while in motion, but a slightly greater investment of psychic energy allowed a greater level of connection between the host-mind and the illusions. As a fairy-type herself, she had more than enough ability to overshadow the bare modicum of talent displaced by that good-for-nothing avian. All she had to do was infuse her psychic energy—
Wait. How did she know all that?
Mawile cocked her head again. No, it was no fluke. She knew how to perform Double Team. Not just that, it was almost like she had performed it earlier, despite having never performed it earlier. What sorcery was this?
"Mawile?" Red repeated, his voice a little wary. "Can you perform Double Team?"
Mawile considered mentioning the strange anomaly she was going through to her trainer. Then, she briefly reminded herself that her trainer, despite being quite intelligent by human standards, was human. He didn't understand the pokémon-tongue.
With a long-suffering sigh, she nodded again. Closing her eyes for an instant, she allowed her innate fairy energy to invade her— she could feel it invade into her every cell, every tissue as if innately scanning everything that made her Mawile. She could feel her power flare out a little, not dissimilar to how she used Icy Wind, but much tamer in comparison. She felt herself generating psychic energy, silently wondering how she had learned to use it like that in the first place, and if she'd retain this knowledge or not. She felt her energies slowly diffuse out of her, while her own awareness expanded, as if her view was now magnified several times over. It felt like she was standing in her original position, and yet, she was in several other places, though only momentarily.
It was… confusing.
Mawile felt her body finally gain a definite control over her psychic energy. Yes, the constant shifts in awareness were now getting slower and more focussed by the second. She could feel that she'd be able to create illusions just like the taillow had done, and in greater number than it too. She would—
"Whoa, that's so amazing! Four illusions so fast? Do it again, Shellder!"
Wait, WHAT?
Mawile blanched, her expression perturbed. Right beside her, was the strange little mute creature. Only, instead of a singular entity, there were four illusory forms of itself around it. The stupid little thing was trying to lick and clamp its shell over the illusions, and even then, the illusions did not seem to waver.
Was there no end to her sufferings?
"Come on, Mawile! I know you can do it. See even Shellder is doing it. Try again." Red cheered her.
Mawile rolled her eyes. Of course, she could do it. Who did Red think she was? This mute, little, water-type could probably create a maximum of four illusions anyway. It was always better to know one's limits after all. She wondered if she should snicker at Shellder's incompetence, but then decided to display her magnanimity. There was no grandeur in establishing dominion over the ones already proven weak after all.
"Mawile?"
And just like that, her eyes were shut once again. It had nothing to do with the fact that Red might be feeling that she was having problems with it.
Mawile felt the psychic energy reform just as easily as the first time, and with a deep sigh, let it out. Her awareness flickered for a second, before they stabilized.
She opened her eyes.
There was an illusion to her left. Another one to her right. The two illusions in front of her looked a little shaky, but they held.
Mawile's eye twitched.
"Whoa, four illusions on your first try. That's just as many as Shellder did. Well done, Mawile!"
"..."
"...wile!"
She gave a feeble yelp, that her trainer thought was a cry of victory. Practice, she decided. She would get this move down until the silly little shell couldn't even count the number of illusions she made. Which, Mawile reflected, was probably not very much anyhow.
"Mr. Kent?"
…
"Mr. Ritchie Kent!"
"...whaddaya—"
"Mr. Ritchie Kent, you are currently in the medical wing. Please wake up! It is about your pokémon."
That broke all remnants of sleep from the Frodomar City trainer. He squinted as he tried to reorient himself, tiredness vivid in his expression, before he unceremoniously picked himself up from the bench, almost slipping over his half-open boots. Gathering himself, he dusted imaginary lint from his trousers. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"
The nurse pursed her lips slightly "It is about your pokémon. The medic wishes to talk to you about them."
"Are they—" Ritchie felt his throat go dry. "Are they going to be alright?"
"I… I really couldn't say." The Nurse responded. Dr. Pym is the one in charge of that particular ward, and I am on reception duty this week. You'll have to ask him."
Right. Dr. Pym. The medic he had talked to the previous night, before falling asleep while waiting on the bench. For a town associated with the famous Samuel Oak, the Pallet Town Clinic was a rather small one, with limited services to trainers. Back in Frodomar, he could have easily gotten a room and board at the hospital premises itself. This… boony didn't even have a proper Pokémon Center, and most injured pokémon were sent to Oak's coral for treatment. He had been in a hurry and did not have the mental fortitude to hang on till he reached the general hospital, not when he had found a clinic near the entrance of the town.
Pallet Town PokéCare.
Thoughts about his present location gave in to thoughts about his prior experience with the trainer from Pallet. Red Ketchup or something, the name was— it didn't matter. Red— he would remember that part. Remember the trainer who had inflicted a crushing and humiliating defeat on his person, on his experience, on his team and their dedication. The trainer with that ruthless, immoral, deceptively cruel creature he called a starter.
Mawile.
"Someday I will encounter him again, and that time, it will be the end for that mawile. I'll see to it." He muttered under his breath.
The nurse shuddered at his ominous tone, though she couldn't really decipher the words used. She fell into steps with the Frodomar City trainer with the injured team. Truth be told, she had yet to see a pokémon with that degree of mutilation in her years as an upcoming medic. Pallet Forest, after all, was a remarkably safe place compared to the wilderness of Viridian Forest and the like. The fact that this trainer had come in barging with his nearly-dying pokémon, and mentioned something about an encounter in Pallet Forest did not seem auspicious to her ears.
"This way." She indicated, turning to the right. "Dr. Pym is in his office. Please follow me."
The trainer quickly followed the nurse as she stepped into a brightly-lit room that looked like a cross between a laboratory and an operation theatre, with a chair and desk on one end. Behind the dozen books on the table, and a magnifying glass of all things was a bespectacled man immersed something closely reminiscent of a lab manual.
"Uhm…" Ritchie cleared his throat. Fortunately, that seemed to do the trick.
The man looked up from his desk, his blue eyes sparking of raw intelligence. The Nurse flinched imperceptibly as she met the man's eyes. "Ah," He registered the new presence in his office. He got off his chair, pushing it back as he walked out. "Mr. Ritchie, I imagine. Would you care for a cup of coffee?"
"How's— how're my pokémon?" Ritchie demanded.
"To the point then." The medic sighed. "Well, it is precisely for that reason why I suggested a cup of coffee. We need to have a discussion over how your pokémon happened to get… mutilated to such a level, and what are the questions that you are likely to be put through by the police when they get here."
Ritchie felt his mouth go dry. "Police?" He croaked.
The medic arched an eyebrow. "Mr. Kent, your pikachu's tail is severely mutilated. Three nerves from its tail along with a significant portion of its flesh has been completely torn apart, causing severe damage. As it is right now, your pikachu will likely never be able to use its tail for any attack whatsoever."
Ritchie felt a sudden feeling of vertigo overwhelm him. Sparky would never be able to use its tail? What about its training on Iron Tail? Would that be lost forever? What about its habit of hanging around his shoulder with his tail holding it steady? What about—?
"Mr. Kent."
"Uhm, sorry," Ritchie shook his head, ignoring the tears trying to overwhelm him. "You were saying?"
The medic felt sorry for the young man in front of him. For a pikachu, losing its tail was practically having a serious handicap for the rest of its natural life. "Not only is its sense of balance ruined, damage to the nerves in a pikachu's tail can permanently cripple the pokémon. If I may offer a suggestion, you should try evolving your pikachu into raichu using a Thunder Stone. It is quite possible that the evolutionary process might heal it significantly. Besides, it would also somewhat… recover from the damage done to one of its pouches."
Ritchie felt a growing urge to find a certain trainer and pummel him to death.
"Mr. Kent."
"...Yeah?"
"Did you listen to what I just said? You need to come to a decision. Using a Thunder Stone to evolve it now could significantly help your pikachu. The more you wait, the more its… injuries would become permanent. In fact, I'd suggest performing the evolution by today itself, if possible. The medication can delay the inevitable for only so long."
"I… But a Thunder Stone? How am I supposed to even find one? Those are only available at pokémarts, and need to be ordered beforehand to get one." Ritchie cursed.
"Well, not to sound too forward, but I do have a connection that might be able to get you a Thunder Stone, for the right price." The medic replied cautiously. From his words, it was obvious that said connection was not exactly legal, but Ritchie didn't exactly have the time to go through the legal procedure.
"How much?" He croaked. "How much is it going to cost?"
"Around… Sixteen thousand pokédollars. And you might have to pay a little more, for speed and discretion."
"Sixteen… thousand?" Ritchie paled at the figure.
"There's also the costs for your other pokémon's treatment to consider."
Ritchie took a step back in horror.
"Surely it would not matter, would it?" The medic asked. "This is clearly a criminal case, and the police will want to take a statement. It should be child's play to get the offender to pay for your pokémon's treatment. As a trainer, you should be knowledgeable about the norms, correct?"
"...correct." Ritchie gulped. Come to think of it, it had been an unofficial battle, so it wasn't likely to be registered in the database. Also, there had been no witnesses to their battle, so it was likely that they'd believe the word of a league-registered trainer over some nobody from the boonies. And knowing that little monster, it was unlikely that this was the first time it had resorted to such gruesome violence.
But what if he's… he's someone from a well-known family here? Obviously they'd believe his word over mine.
"I… I would prefer not to bring this matter to the police. It was just another trainer and I-I don't know his name or anything— and it was a dark and everything and—"
The medic looked at him like he had just failed to answer and exceedingly simple question. "You claim that these injuries were done by some unknown perpetrator, who took advantage of the dark and caused all of this?" He lifted the reports of his three patients. "Your taillow has a comminuted fracture on its bone, as well as three broken bones on its back. Your charmander," he made an odd sound from his throat, "has several spiral fractures on his tail and a total of eight contusions all over its body. There are clear indications of gnawing on its tail, several times over, something that I can associate with the Vice Grip attack, as well as three broken ribs. It is almost a surprise that it isn't dead by now."
"I… I…." Ritchie gripped the hairs on his head tightly, stepping back against the wall, and slowly crouching down towards the ground. "I cannot… It is not my fault but I cannot…"
"I assume that this is a rather… personal matter, Mr. Kent. Nurse, if you please?" The medic arched an eyebrow, at which the nurse nodded briskly before walking out. "Mr. Kent, would I be correct in believing that you were not the person that caused this level of mutilation to your team?"
Ritchie glanced up, fear vivid in his features. "No, I didn't, I wouldn't. They are my team. Sparky's my starter."
The medic ignored the odd name, and went on. "Then what is it that stops you from naming the exact reason behind that caused all this?"
"I…" Ritchie felt like his head was going to burst. Unable to restrain himself, he bawled out "It wasn't my fault alright? I challenged this unregistered rookie trainer— Red something, with a strange creature he called a mawile. Non-native."
Dr. Pym nodded.
"I… He got me angry and I challenged him to a battle, and that monster did this to Zippo— my charmander."
The medic cast a second glance at the reports on his desk. "I cannot see how that might stop you from reporting it to the police. Lethal attacks such as this are frowned upon, as you might know and—"
"That's not the point." Ritchie snapped.
"Alright," the medic kept his calm. "Please arrive at the point."
"He was a rookie trainer all right?" Ritchie half-yelled. "I challenged a rookie trainer to a 1-on-1 battle, and that rookie trainer did this to my Zippo. I got… I got mad at what happened, and I ordered my team to attack his mawile. It attacked him too!"
"I presume the pikachu was the one, considering his—"
Ritchie shook his head. "All of them."
"..."
"..."
"I need a cigarette." The medic sighed, before opening a drawer beneath the table and taking out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, he drew it on, and let out a long puff of smoke. "Let me get this straight. You challenged an unregistered trainer to a battle, breaking at least two laws of the Trainer Legislation Accord, and then, after getting defeated, ordered the rest of your team to attack his pokémon. Not only that, but it attacked the actual trainer himself?
Ritchie did not move. Or speak whatsoever.
"Did this trainer get injured?"
…
"Mr. Kent!" The medic barked.
"No." Ritchie blurted. "I didn't think— I just— Can't you see what it did to my Zippo?"
"I can see it, yes." The medic replied. "It is also extremely unnatural that a trainer might have access to a pokémon powerful enough to defeat a charmander, pikachu and a taillow in tandem. I know of this pokémon you speak off, a mawile, and while they are deceptive little things, they are not of the threat level you speak of. Even if what you say is true, Mr. Kent, I'm afraid the law will support the other trainer, should he be brought in court. Where was this trainer from?"
"..." Ritchie muttered.
The medic felt his phone vibrate for a moment, as he checked the new notification with a long sigh. "A little louder, please? My ears are failing me in old age."
"Pallet Town. Here. Damn it. From here."
"Pallet Town." The medic closed his eyes. As a healer, it was his duty to keep copies of records from the Trainer Examinations-details of trainers, family history and any genetic diseases in the family line. However, there was another thing that separated the trainers here from the rest of the world.
Sponsorship: Professor Samuel Oak.
"It is rather unfortunate, and I cannot believe that I'm saying this, but you really do not have a chance at this. Even if you name the trainer responsible, he can use his position as an unregistered trainer, and point fingers at you. After all, you are the league-registered trainer with a team of six, and two badges to count. Of course, that is not counting the fact that we are assuming that this trainer did nothing after encountering you."
"What do you mean?" Ritchie asked, his throat now completely dry.
"Our machines got a new notification from the league servers about your Trainer ID. Before you ask how, I should remind you that it is from the pokédex that you submitted when you admitted your team to the hospital. It seems like there has been a new complaint registered by Professor Samuel Oak, to the Indigo League, reporting a certain Ritchie Kent from Frodomar City, Trainer ID ABSP2043RK." He read out from the notification on his cell phone. "Your Trainer ID has been temporarily suspended and you are required to submit yourself to any official Police Station, and testify in open court against what is classified as legal evidence."
"You mean?"
"Memories, ones cleared by a psychic. Either there has been a third witness, or, this trainer has indeed taken action against you. A pitiable condition really, considering your charmander and your pikachu. Not to mention your taillow and—"
"Please." Ritchie looked up at him in despair "Help me."
Dr. Pym smiled.
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