ACT ONE - IMMOLATION
Chapter 7 - Miss Tea
Misty Waterflower had always been different. That much was certain, and her brash nature and tendency to act before thinking only served to emphasize that fact. The Waterflower family was by no means ancient, having existed for little under a hundred years. Misty's grandfather had been a successful businessman and engaged in the breeding of rare pokémon and selling them at exorbitant prices, making a substantial fortune for himself and his future generations. Her father, Michael Waterflower, had continued the family tradition, but limited the breeding to water-types, being an old student of a former water master named Gregory, the former gym leader of Cerulean City. After spending years under Gregory's tutelage, Michael had taken over the reins of the Cerulean Gym from Gregory, after he died at the early age of forty-one. The years that followed depicted a steady growth of the Waterflower family's power and reach throughout Cerulean, establishing private ranches, aquariums, private beaches, and resorts.
Being the youngest of four sisters, Misty had experienced the positives and negatives that came with the position. On one hand, her elder sisters coddled her, and she tended to end up getting whatever she wanted. On the other hand, it was the constant reinforcement of the fact that she needed to live up to her family name and her elder sisters.
The two eldest siblings, Daisy and Violet, were part of the entertainment industry and made a name for themselves in the show business. Daisy had claimed the position of Kanto Queen twice, while Violet was a leading pokémon coordinator. Her third sister, Lily, was practically a carbon copy of her father and strived to further the Waterflower's traditional business, and at the same time, trained to become the next gym leader. Between the gym, the breeding grounds and trade, and the show business, the Waterflower name was maintained as the most influential name in the entire city.
Misty was different though. She wasn't interested in show-business like her eldest sister, and the prospect of running the family business, or taking over the gym, failed to excite her. Her father had thought that she'd perhaps want to become a trainer and travel or perhaps assist him in the family business, but Misty had shaken those ideas off. She liked pokémon, or rather, water-type pokémon. Scratch that, she adored them. She wasn't too interested in becoming a trainer and putting her pokémon through intense training or bringing them to ridiculously high levels. Instead, she wanted to become a breeder, more specifically a water-type specialist. Someone who instinctively understood water-types, and knew how to breed them, treat them, and take care of them in the most optimal way.
Amused by her decision, her father had sent her to the prestigious Pokémon Tech Academy in Saffron City— an institution that, in crude terms, catered to the needs of the wealthy. She had studied there for three years, and in less than another year, she'd be a graduate, ready to start with her next degree at the medical school, unless she got any other substantial offers.
According to the university, certain water types held significant similarities to bug pokémon such as the exoskeleton of a krabby or a kakuna. Taking great offense to this, Misty had made her displeasure known to her teachers. Vehemently.
Which led her to her current project.
While Misty was sure that this project was created just to spite her, this didn't change the unfortunate fact that their group project now required certain bug species as samples for comparison. For some inane reason, the project leader had delegated the job of capturing the bug-types to her of all people, and so she had been sent off to Viridian City.
One of the oddities of Viridian Forest was that pokémon above stage two tended to not be seen there, making it far safer than the more uncharted forested regions. Of course, if you strayed off the beaten track, there was always the chance of running into a beedrill nest or if you were really unlucky, some pinsir, but Misty was planning to be careful.
There was only a little problem.
Misty Waterflower hated bugs with a passion. Especially the ones that crawled. She could stare a gyarados right in the eye and not lose her cool, but a caterpie would send her screaming and running, hands waving in whatever direction her feet took her. Of course, any other person in her place would probably have chosen the sane option and purchased some bug-types from a legitimate breeding center.
Not her.
Apparently one of her big-mouthed friends at the institution had blabbed about it to Violet, who had, in turn, teased her over her fear of bugs. In a fit of anger and a complete lack of rational judgment on her part, Misty had sworn that she'd travel through Viridian Forest by foot, and complete her project. Of course, Violet hadn't really cared, and wouldn't have really noticed even if Misty happened to renege on her promise and choose the saner option, but Misty had made up her mind. She had put it off till the last possible moment, well after the rest of her classmates had finished the project and returned, but she had finally worked up the nerve to enter the forest.
That was how sixteen-year-old Misty found herself walking with her croconaw along the edges of the Viridian Forest, trying to muster up the courage for the seventh time, to walk into the forest, catch those creepy-crawling-hair raising-obnoxious-yucky bugs and complete her project. Every time she had mustered up a little courage and walked forward, she had encountered a caterpie, a weedle or a metapod. Her sudden bout of boldness deserted her, the little courage she had managed to gather vanished and she had run back, screaming like a banshee. Even poor Croconaw was getting tired of it all.
"Damn it, Damn it." The orange-haired girl cursed. "I need to finish this project, and I need to do it now. I can do it. I'll show those bugs that Misty Waterflower can't be frightened away so easily."
"Naw!" Croconaw grunted half-heartedly. He had loudly exclaimed his support the first few times she made this proclamation, but he was getting tired. It would be as doomed to failure as every single one of her earlier attempts, and at this point watching his trainer tiptoe over the forest lining before running back screaming was no longer funny.
"Don't be like that Croconaw. You know I can do this."
Croconaw sighed. He knew she couldn't do this.
"Pfft! Traitor. I'll do it. Just you wait. I'll figure something out."
She probably didn't think she could do it either, Croconaw mused. His trainer likely knew that she had been caught bluffing and was now trying to save face. Her attempts at being subtle about it were worse than a Snorlax. Still, he supposed he might as well support her through her latest delusion— or should that be venture?
"Naw?" He asked, casually wondering if she was going to carry out her next attempt right then. He hoped she'd get done quickly, it was hot and sticky here and he was itching to go for a long swim in the river. It had been almost a week since their arrival in Viridian, and Croconaw was bored out of his mind. He had been showing a hardening of scales and an elongation of his jaws as well as an increase in height. These signs indicated that he was close to evolving. They were however uncomfortable and hard to get used to and this long monotonous period of doing nothing did not help. Crocanaw just wanted to get it over with and quickly evolve into a feraligatr. Feraligatr were huge, spanning over seven feet in height, and could tear through nearly anything. More importantly, evolving would get rid of what his trainer called growing pains. Apparently humans went through them too, though personally Crocanaw through them quite primitive and slow, taking well over 20 years for their evolution to settle in.
"You know what I think? I think we should—"
SLAM!
Something slammed into the back of his head with all the force of a Machoke smashing a rock, hurling him face-first into the ground. The black projectile had bounced off his head, and having lost the majority of its momentum, rolled on the ground beside him. Even so, the resulting impact has knocked out two of his teeth, from what he could ascertain, and bruised his right cheek. This wasn't anything permanent, with the totodile line constantly replacing their teeth on a near-weekly basis, but that didn't stop the pain.
"Croconaw! Croconaw, are you alright?" Misty raced up to him, knelt down and tried to pull him up, at the time trying to measure the damage done. "Are you okay?" Then her expression shifted from concern to vexation. "What the hell was that?" She tried to check out at the odd purple thing on the grass beside them from her position.
"Naw!" Croconaw grunted, pulling himself up. Moving around was easier back when he was a silly little totodile, but with evolution came a substantial increase in mass. Over the course of the last year, he had gained a lot of mass, and from what Misty told him, the closer he got to evolution, the bulkier he would get.
At least when I evolve my strength and endurance will rise in proportion to the gain in mass. This present form is slow and considerably weaker. Being a totodile was much better.
He steadily pushed himself off the ground, with Misty supporting his neck. Grunting twice, he allowed his hands to support him as he moved to a seated posture. His body was heavier than what he presumed, which meant that his body mass must have rapidly increased again. Because his body structure as a croconaw was clearly not meant to carry this much weight, walking was difficult, and the constant changes in size was messing with his balance. For all the power a feraligatr would have, being a croconaw sucked.
At least I could swim through those water bodies back at the school. Why must she make me walk so much?
"Are you okay?" The orangette asked, the concern vivid in her voice. "Do you want to return to your pokéball?"
Croconaw shook his head. He wanted to get out of this horrible form. He wanted to swim. But more importantly, he wanted to know what hit him, and who was responsible for the entire mess. He pushed himself up and turned to inspect the projectile.
Misty herself got up, and narrowed her eyes, as she realized what she was seeing. For confirmation's sake, she gently kicked the purple thing over, which rolled over and continued to play dead.
"A shellder?" Misty wondered aloud, staring at the water-type before her attention shifted towards the river. She could make a pretty good guess as to what had happened. Someone must have fished the shellder out of the river, and realizing what it was, had decided to throw it away, like a disposable thing.
Somewhere deep, a cold fire burned.
Misty picked the shellder up, and in what appeared to be a knee-jerk reaction, the shellder instantly clamped two of her fingers into its shell.
Had Misty been anyone else, she'd have either pitched a fit or tried to push it away and throw it back into the river. But being a daughter of the Waterflower family— who were active participants in the jewelry industry and actively bred shellder —she recognized it for it was.
This shellder is used to biting someone's finger. Otherwise, it would have gone for the hair. After all, the thin long strands are quite similar to some of the aquatic plants that shellder tend to chew on.
What had happened? Had someone fished a shellder out of the river, and decided to hold on to it and use it to evolve a slowbro? Slowpoke were rather uncommon, unless you know someone from Azalea Town in west Johto.
Furthermore, Water Stones were expensive and most trainers did not think that the payoff of raising a cloyster proportional to the risk. On evolving, not only would their instincts sharpen dramatically, but their intellect would rise as well. Synthetically-evolved cloyster understood just how much their shells would lack compared to their natural counterparts as well as their size and power and this realization tended to result in an attack on the trainer. The problem was that even if some trainers managed to protect themselves from the raging cloyster, they had no way to ensure its obedience. It could simply hide in its shell and refuse to battle. Of course, even though a synthetically-evolved cloyster lacked the power of a natural evolved one, it was by no means something to wave off. They could quite easily match a charizard or a blastoise, which was why many trainers tried to evolve one despite the inherent dangers.
Perhaps this trainer had held onto the shellder for a day or two, and then decided to throw it away on realizing that neither evolutionary option was viable? Was that it? Was that why this innocent water-type had been thrown away like a disposable item?
That would not do. Not only had this unknown trainer thrown the shellder away without the slightest bit of caution, something that could have seriously injured Croconaw, but he had also committed a crime against a water-type. As far as Misty was concerned, that was equivalent to murder.
"Croconaw," Misty intoned softly, steel shining in her eyes. "We have a trainer to hunt."
Croconaw blinked.
Meanwhile…
"I seriously do not understand what your problem is, Mawile. Shellder is just as much as part of the team as you and Skarmory."
Mawile thought otherwise. She was his starter. She fought off the bratty human and his worthless lizard in the forest, and she was the one that made him… popular… was it? Whoever decided to come up with such stupid ideas like fighting without getting food in return anyway? Besides, she fought for him at that Square place, several times she might add— and got him Skarmory. Why her dopey trainer still cared about that stupid thing that wrangled a place by being a mute bastard, she'd never understand.
After the battle with that Samurai fellow, Red had taken some food out of his backpack so they could have a snack before they started out on the journey through the forest ahead. He had even forced Mawile to eat those yucky restore pack thingies to heal the tiny bruises she had gotten from her fight against that marowak, though it didn't even matter, considering that she nearly beat the old crybaby to death with its own bone to boot. Not that the others had any problems with it— Skarmory was predisposed to agree with every word that left Red's lips, and the mute was practically freeloading off Red from the start.
Unluckily for her, no one except Mawile noted this glaring fact. Not Skarmory, and certainly not Red. And therein laid the entire problem.
"You saw how Shellder fought back against that pidgeotto, defeating her. I know you thought he was useless but even you must have noticed that he's improving?"
Yes, Mawile did notice. The mute was only good at one thing, and that was at creating illusions of itself for no reason at all. As if one was not enough. Mawile shuddered at the thought of those illusions ever turned real. The world becoming home to such dumb mutes was practically a nightmare in itself. But yes, she remembered that devastating technique the mute had called upon, sending hundreds of globules of water at alarming speed at the pidgeotto. The avian had been incapacitated before its body hit the ground. Mawile was sure that the bird had suffered multiple bodily fractures if not something worse.
But that wasn't the point. The point was that it was all a fluke.
Mawile knew it, Skarmory knew it, hell even Shellder knew it, given how it had been unable to replicate the technique a second time, despite hours of vain attempts from her hopelessly naive trainer. Only her dopey trainer had some kind of evergreen giddy optimism that Shellder would become better in the future. Was this some human-made law that she didn't know about? Perhaps she should have spent some more time with that Oak human when she'd gotten the chance earlier.
After the battle with the lanky human and his pokémon, Red had been praising Shellder for hours. Okay, it wasn't exactly hours, but everything went exponential as far as Shellder was considered in Mawile's eyes. It was 'Shellder this, Shellder that'.
Irritating.
She remembered Shellder's lame performance, being tossed around like a pebble, and then somehow winning at the last moment.
This whole mess started when Mawile had lost her patience with Shellder's uselessness and whacked it on its shell. Shellder had vibrated for a second, before lifting its valves, and sneezing in her face. What was worse, was that the mute had the audacity to lick her after its degenerate behavior.
Obviously, Mawile had not let it go. Angered, she had gathered steel-energy and slammed Shellder with her best Iron Head attack, sending it flying several yards away. The very next second, Mawile had found herself facing an annoyed Red, who demanded that she help him get Shellder back.
Which brought her to her current situation.
"Wile!" Mawile scoffed, furiously turning over a random rock to see if Shellder was hiding underneath it. Knowing Shellder, it'd probably think it was playing hide-and-seek and had been thrown away to hide from everyone. The sad thing was, it'd probably be good at it, what with its annoying proclivity of acting out it's usual 'look at me happily ignoring that I'm being thrown around.'
Mawile sighed.
Come to think of it, her latest stunt had gotten her into trouble, and the sad thing was, she hadn't even employed deception this time around. Instead, she'd followed the human way, and given in to her urges. It wasn't even like she was being cruel or anything. Mabel had always gone on and on about how one should always listen to their heart.
"Shellder! Can you hear me?" Red yelled, searching through the long grass with a twig, as he kept looking, a shade of controlled hysteria in his eyes. Being a reclusive kid, Red had issues with losing things. Kaz had once teleported a dragonite plush toy away to tease a seven-year-old Red, who had then searched for the toy for four days straight, throughout the house, over and over, until Kaz had gotten it back.
"Mawa...wile?" Mawile kept calling as well, though unknown to Red, she was giving out a significantly different message. Her words could be translated along the lines of — 'hide properly. We are coming to find you!'
She had apparently done something wrong thing (at least in Red's eyes), and he had punished her by prohibiting her from having poképuffs for the next three days. From her understanding, she couldn't be punished twice for the same incident and therefore Red's reaction on the matter was over. Thus, Mawile had no qualms over going back to her plan and ensuring that Shellder was out of their life for good. She only hoped that Skarmory, who was searching from the sky, would not manage to locate Shellder in time. Either way, perhaps her worry would be for naught. If she was lucky, it was entirely possible that Shellder had fallen into the river and got washed away. Yes, everything would work out exactly the way it should.
And just like that, Mawile challenged the Gods of Irony.
Misty and Croconaw had traveled for around ten minutes along the riverbank, working on the assumption that the shellder's owner hadn't moved, and was still at the same spot from which he had thrown away Shellder. The tall grass in the immediate vicinity made it a little difficult to see very far, but Misty thought that it was as good an assumption as any.
"SHELLDER! SHELLDER, WHERE ARE YOU?"
Misty's ears perked up at that. She had been keeping her ears open for any human voices around, expecting to catch the unsuspecting trainer off-guard. Hearing someone actively searching for Shellder caught her off guard. Was it possible that this trainer had actually lost Shellder— probably during some training regimen and was now looking for it? She hadn't really expected to see a trainer with a shellder though, and cloyster were notorious for their rarity and cruel disposition. Perhaps the truth lay somewhere in the middle of it all, but she'd need to get to the bottom of it.
The water-type deserved that much at least.
"Excuse me?" Misty called out, raising her voice to attract Red's attention. "Are you looking for a shellder?"
"Mawaa...mawawile!" Mawile came in through the thick bushes, still yelling for Shellder to keep hiding, wherever it was. She used her jaw to sweep the tall grasses away, clearing her line of sight, and came face to face with Croconaw, who was staring at her blankly.
"Wile?"
"Naw?" Croconaw questioned sternly, directly getting to the point. He had heard Mawile's constant yelling, telling Shellder that the human was coming for him and that he should hide, and had assumed the worst.
This human must have been tormenting the shellder. Croconaw mused. How a human could possibly torment a shellder was an entirely different question, but no one ever accused Croconaw of being a deep and diligent thinker. Obviously, that is the reason that this… strange creature is asking it to stay hidden.
"Naw? Croco?"
Mawile blinked. Then she glanced at the shellder innocently hanging onto Misty's fingers.
Traitor, she decided, shifting loyalties so soon. Throwing Shellder away was probably the right thing to do after all. Red was silly and dopey, and so he obviously wasn't able to see how the mute was practically freeloading off him.
She glanced at the orangette again, who was now trying to make conversation with her trainer.
"So, is this shellder yours?" Misty asked as Red rushed up to her, happy to see Shellder safe and sound.
He inspected it for a moment, before nodding in answer. "Yeah, we were training, and had a little… accident."
That confirmed Croconaw's worst fears. As someone who had been a close companion to Misty, he had slowly become influenced by Misty's ideology and truly believed in her goal of getting 'water-types their due from the world'. Mawile's initial proclamation had been a hint, but this… this was practically evidence.
"Training? You were training a shellder?" Misty asked disbelievingly.
"What's so surprising about that? Shellder is part of my team."
Croconaw barked in suspicion, glaring at Red for a moment, before glancing at Mawile again for confirmation.
Mawile, being the deceptive little thing that she was, shared a meaningful gaze with the angry croconaw, before meeting Red's eyes, and shying away, as if afraid to talk to Red directly.
Shellder squeaked.
Croconaw lifted a paw and began loudly accusing Red of being an evil human that tortured Shellder for fun. He hobbled over to Misty and began shaking his head furiously, pointing at Red all the while.
"Huh?" Misty asked, confused by Croconaw's reaction. "What's wrong? You don't like him?"
Croconaw hysterically pointed at Shellder and then back to Red, still shaking his head and grunting offensively. He passed a singular glance at Mawile, who was still being a mortified little thing and would not look at Red at any cost.
"You don't think I should give Shellder back?"
Finally.
Croconaw felt elated, barking in affirmation, glancing at Mawile who just would not look at him either. What was wrong with that pokémon? Did her trainer treat her so badly that she wasn't able to speak properly when he was around?
"Uhm, is something wrong?" Red asked, a little wary of the water type's behavior. Almost by reflex, he took out his pokédex and scanned the creature in front of him.
Croconaw. The big jaw pokémon. It is the evolved form of totodile. Once its jaws clamp down on its foe, it will absolutely not let go. Because the tips of its fangs are forked back like fishhooks, they become irremovable once embedded.
"Totodile," Red mused, "Doesn't sound like a Kanto pokémon."
'Johto." Misty answered, maintaining a wary eye on Red, after her starter's reaction. "Why is Croconaw so wary of you? Have you been mistreating your pokémon?"
"Mistreat— what the hell are you talking about?" Red retorted indignantly. "Listen, whoever you are, just give me back my shellder."
Misty fumed at that. "My name is Misty. And no, I'm not giving you this water-type just so that you can abuse it again."
"Listen Tea," Red countered, "I have no idea why your… croconaw," he remembered the name after a second, "dislikes me, but Shellder is my pokémon. Where on earth did you get the idea that I was abusing him? We were just training."
"Prove it. And my name is Misty. Are you deaf as well as stupid?"
Red stared at the girl. Was she for real? Did she insist that everyone she met prefixed her name with Miss? First the Samurai and now this, it was almost as if these weirdos went out of their way to seek him.
"Fine. Miss Tea, then. How do you want me to prove it? That I wasn't torturing the poor innocent little shellder?" Red challenged. Finding Misty unable to come back with an answer, he continued, "And more importantly, why do I need to prove myself to you? That's my Shellder, and I can take it back anytime."
He was done trying to explain himself to this orangette, and her distempered croconaw. Without further delay, he plucked out Shellder's pokéball from his belt and held it in front of his hands—
"BLUH BLUH BLUH BLUH!"
"What the hell?" Red yelled, finding himself completely drenched after receiving a small jet of water to the face. This was the second time he had been soaked in the past week alone. Really, first electric-types and their desire to zap him, and now water-types and their obsession with drenching him. He really didn't want to know how steel-types would behave with him. So far Mawile and Skarmory had been good, but no one knew the future.
"Why did it do that? What kind of trainer are you, unable to control your own pokémon?" He accused.
"Don't speak like that about my croconaw!" Misty retorted, taking offense at his comment. "Croconaw has done nothing but consider a fellow water type's plight. Obviously you have been mistreating Shellder to make him react like that!"
"Mistreating a— How do you even mistreat a shellder?" Red asked, half-bemused, and half-irritated. He was getting tired of trying to explain himself to this dim-witted girl and her crazy pokémon. "Listen, I'm willing to forgive and forget that attack from your croconaw, but even you should know that a pokémon attacking a trainer is against the law in Kanto. Now return my shellder to me. Right now"
Misty hesitated a little, knowing that there was some truth behind his words. While it had been a mild Water Gun, the right person could blow it out of proportion. While there was little to no chance of winning such a case against a family as influential as the Waterflowers, it could spread rumors about them bullying rookie trainers.
"Croconaw might have been a little over-eager," she began with a diplomatic tone, "but his concerns are no less true. I cannot, in all honesty, return this shellder to you, knowing that Croconaw practically called you an abusive trainer."
Red blinked. Then blinked again.
"...what?" she asked.
"Nothing." He replied after a moment, "just considering the ludicrousness of the situation. You, Miss Tea or whatever, are voluntarily preventing my pokémon from returning to me?"
"..." For once, Misty had no words to say. Perhaps, she hadn't thought this entire thing through?
He held out his hand. "My shellder please, or else I'll have to report you, and trust me, I've dealt with… hyper-excited trainers before. It didn't exactly turn out well."
Mawile was now beginning to feel slightly aggravated now. As much as she wanted to get rid of Shellder, it seemed that destiny was against her in this particular endeavor. She had tried to throw it away when it had first clamped into Red's hair by the river. She had tried to show it up when mastering Double Team, but apparently Shellder was some kind of freaky savant at it. She had fought, given her sweat, blood and tears (mostly due to Shellder), and yet the little mute managed to hang to its position on the team. Now, even after that powerful Iron Head attack, Shellder was almost… magically being given back to Red. If someone was trying to teach her a lesson on trying to be less stubborn, it was probably working.
And now this croconaw had used an attack on Red. It had been a harmless Water-gun, but it had been an attack. Mawile had ignored it because of its comedic timing but the matter was slowly getting out of hand and if she didn't do anything, perhaps Red would be involved in another needless fight. Or worse, Shellder would show off again, and become Red's favorite.
Mawile didn't think she'd be able to stomach that.
Croconaw, it seemed, had something different in mind. Supremely confident in his observations gathered from Mawile's behavior, and considering how this human was speaking rashly with his own trainer, he was quite certain that he knew the truth of the situation. Mawile was being treated badly. Shellder was being treated badly. This trainer was abusive. And abusive humans were bad. Period.
Croconaw leaped in front of Misty, for once ignoring his weight. "Croc!" He grunted angrily.
"Return your croconaw, or else I'll be forced to hurt it. My pokémon are not so forgiving."
"As if someone like you could even stand a chance against my croconaw." Misty fumed, inwardly wondering if this situation had turned into something unpleasant.
"You want to find out?" Red asked dangerously "Skarmory!"
There was a loud screech above them, as the massive avian swooped down towards Red, causing Misty to shriek in fear. Skarmory flew over to Red's side and screeched loudly, beating her wings every now and then to keep herself airborne.
"This psycho just stole Shellder." Red declared.
"How dare you call me that! I'm Misty Waterflower, and a future water-specialist to boot."
"Croco!" The water-type guarded her with his body, ready to fight off against the avian if need be. He was sure of it— the mawile was being abused, and so was the shellder. Perhaps this human was using this large, cruel-looking bird to do his bidding?
Conflict seemed imminent.
"Mawa… mawile!" Mawile yelled, raising her hands in a rush, her tone aggravated, and her jaw raised upward. So far it had been funny, but Red's health was at stake. Besides, she had no qualms about throwing this croconaw to the wolves. It was hardly Mawile's fault that the stupid thing had decided to act on her words without further confirmation. She didn't even know him. It was probably for his own good that he was a trained pokémon. Things that dumb didn't last long in the wild.
"Naw?" The big-jaw pokémon asked in confusion. He had seen the creature— Mawile, he presumed from her words —indirectly admit that the human with her was rash and had mistreated Shellder, and possibly even herself. Then why was she trying to save her trainer now?
"Naw! Croconaw!" He grunted back, as if to confirm his suspicions. Was she really supporting her trainer? Or was she perhaps under duress? Regardless he'd have to fight, even against her if needed, but throwing the poor shellder into the hands of an abusive human was not an option.
Mawile didn't care. It didn't matter that she had hoodwinked the croconaw in the first place. Anyone that stupid should be taken advantage of. That was practically a rule in her book.
Shellder squeaked, and all of a sudden, loosened its grasp on Misty's fingers, before dropping on the ground. A few seconds later and it was attached to Red's fingers.
"..."
"..."
Red sweatdropped.
"...Uhm, could we start over?" Misty asked.
Mawile groaned.
Somewhere in Pewter
"Get up and try again. I've no time for wimps who can't even stand two punches." The gritty coach spoke, his voice filled with casual disdain. "And you say you've filled in for a year of service? You'll be dead before the week is over."
Ritchie coughed, before spitting out some blood. Again.
His stomach felt like one big bruise and the first punch to the chest had nearly sent him reeling over, coughing up a bit of blood. The second punch landed on his cheek, throwing him to the ground and disorienting him. When Mickey had told him how hard it was for a trainee to become a grunt, Ritchie had been sure the man was exaggerating. After all, how difficult could a month of training be? He was a three-badge trainer, with a full team of six, and on top of that, he had a powerhouse of a Raichu. He had expected to be practically awarded a grunt position the moment he stepped in.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
Apparently, the trainees were sent to a particular location in Pewter City, simply known as the 'Quarters'. There were a total of forty of such trainees, himself included, who were expected to stay there for the next three to four weeks while trying to become a grunt. The moment Ritchie stepped in, he felt like he was entering a whole new league, with a new set of trainees to beat, only instead of trying to become champion, they were competing for the grunt position, and perhaps other more senior positions. Information was practically on a 'need-to-know' basis, but Ritchie did manage to infer a few things about Team Rocket's hierarchy.
These 'Quarters as they were called, were sprawled all across Kanto. These were used as places of recruitment and training, where Team Rocket gathered aspiring groups of potential grunts in groups of forty. Every such group had a coach assigned to them, who ensured hellish training on the trainees until they qualified as a grunt. Ten people would be chosen out of them, and made into grunt captains, with each captain leading a team of three. Until that happened, every trainee was on his own, living, and healing his pokémon with his own money. Once someone made it to the grunt stage, they'd be sent for what their teachers referred to as 'The Inauguration', whatever that was. Ritchie didn't quite know the details, but he was sure that it was a pretty big secret. Also, a trainee had at most one month to become a grunt. If the trainee failed to make the cut, he would be subject to a powerful psychic and have his memories of the entire month removed. After that, the trainee usually found themselves in a government hospital or something. At least, that's what he was told.
Another surprising aspect of the training was the diversity of trainers amongst the group. There were two Unovan, and five Hoenn natives living and training with him. Ritchie was unfortunate enough to be pitted against one of the Unovans, who had a strange ground-type that eerily reminded him of a Totodile, only thinner, browner and uglier.
Over the last three days, each of the trainers had been matched with every single one of the other trainers at least once. Ritchie had only been able to win around twenty percent of his battles. His taillow wasn't able to use any version of Peck, and thus, had been defeated several times. Even Sparky had suffered a humiliating defeat against the Unovan's ground-type, a krokorok or something from what he could understand. Zippo was clearly not healed enough to be battling, and thus, Princess had to take over most of the battles. Ritchie had thanked whatever deities were watching him that Princess had been the least injured back in Pallet Forest. Else, there was no way he'd have managed his current, admittedly pitiful performance.
That was when they were told about the second part of their training.
Hand to hand combat.
Ritchie had paled at that.
As it turned out, the trainees weren't actually supposed to fight each other per se, but demonstrate a bare minimum affinity for combat, as well as a minimum endurance factor. They weren't supposed to fight each other either. Instead, they needed to survive for a single minute against their coach. If they remained standing they passed. If not, they could return to practicing by themselves, or leave the arena.
And that was how he had arrived at his present situation.
The coach (or demon in human skin, if you asked him) allowed his prey to stand up again, smirking as Ritchie tried to balance his wiry frame, ignoring the punch to the stomach that had caused him to double down in pain. He loved his job, since it allowed him to beat the shit out of these grunt-wannabes until they either developed enough skill to either fight back or enough resistance to stay awake until the one-minute duration was over.
"I'm not giving up." Ritchie frothed, trying to remain balanced. He somehow managed to pull himself up, trying to keep away the disorientation that threatened to envelop his mind. Shaking his head like a Growlithe, Ritchie kept his eyes on the coach, before yelling out and driving a fist into the man's face.
Or so he attempted.
"Huh!" The coach grinned. "Got some juice still left in you."
He casually clenched Ritchie's fist with one palm, before slamming another punch, this one to the abdomen, causing the boy to spit out some more blood, splattering it upon the man's face.
Unfortunately, this only managed to make him angrier. And the coach was not a good man to meet when angry.
He kicked Ritchie again in the chest, causing the boy to flail in pain, uncaring about his condition. "Listen brat," He grabbed Ritchie by his collar, glaring at his half-closed eyes, "I'm only good at one thing, and what I'm good at is not very good. So either you learn to face me, or you learn to endure it. You," He shook the boy, "are failing at both, and your performance in battle is abyssal. You either get better fast or you die trying. And remember, one month is all you have."
Without any further consideration, he threw the bleeding and frothing boy to the side, allowing the pair of medics standing ready to drop him on a stretcher and take him away.
"Now, who's next?" The coach grinned.
Back in Viridian
"Let me get this straight. You are from Cerulean City, and you are here in Viridian to catch bug pokémon?"
Nod.
"And you need these… bugs, because of a project from your school?"
Another nod.
"And you don't want to… I don't know, just buy them from some ranch or something?"
More nods.
"Because of some ridiculous incident that you cannot share?"
The nods continued for the fourth time.
"Then what stops you from going into the forest? You even have a remarkably obedient pokémon," Red slurred at the end, "well, one with obvious anger issues, but obedient nevertheless."
"Because I. Hate. Bugs."
"Right," Red muttered, once again wondering just how his luck kept on making him encounter all these strange people. Or was it perhaps the world itself was strange? Then again, he had started out by getting electrocuted, and then barely survived negotiating with a fearow in Pallet Forest, so perhaps a certain amount of insanity was required to become a trainer in the first place.
"Right," Red continued, trying to think of less depressing topics." so why exactly are you telling me all of this?"
"Because…" Misty started, wondering how to approach the issue. It was obvious that their mutual first impression couldn't have been worse, something that had her embarrassed. Doubly so, since she had been the one in the wrong the whole time, carried away in her self-righteous dogma. Come to think of it, Croconaw could've gotten into some serious trouble had Red actually taken it to the police. The Waterflowers were a big influence back in Cerulean, but this was Viridian, and more importantly—
Samuel Oak was his sponsor. Samuel fucking Oak.
Strangely enough, the boy seemed to not have attached much importance to this fact. If anything, he seemed to wear his connection to Oak rather lightly and had only mentioned it in passing during their conversation. If she didn't know any better, she'd have called him a master politician, inconspicuously backing down, only to reveal an ace at the last moment to turn the tables over.
And a direct connection to Samuel Oak was pretty much the ultimate ace anyone could pull, as far as Misty was concerned. No gym leader, type-master, police officer, or even Elite Four member would take her case if he decided to take Red's side in a legal argument. She wasn't even sure if her own father would be able to balance the scales should someone like that entered the equation. Diplomacy had never really been her strong suit, which was probably why Michael had never pushed her into the family business, but this situation, as unfortunate as it was, required a little tact.
"Firstly," she lifted her head and regarded him with an imperious expression. "My name is Misty Waterflower."
"Yes, Tea, I know that," Red muttered offhandedly.
Just how dense are you, man! Misty suppressed her irritation from seeping through her tone. "It's not Miss Tea, it is Misty. Like, M-I-S-T-Y, Misty. Misty Waterflower. Got it now?"
"...err, yeah, got it," Red muttered. "I thought you are one of those overbearing— I mean, people who prefer to have an extra honorific prefixed to their names."
Right. "No, I'm not."
"So now that we have provisionally gotten past the misunderstanding over your name, can we get back to the issue at hand?"
Misty blinked. "..."
"I meant, why are you telling me about your sad life history as a bug-catcher."
Misty suppressed a primal urge to slam a punch at his atrocious behavior, but suppressed it. It would not do. This was someone with a connection with Samuel Oak, and considering that he was able to tame a powerful skarmory of all things, this was exactly the person she needed for the job.
She took a deep breath. "I want you— I mean, I need you to catch those bugs for my project, and I'm scared of them, so I was wondering if you could catch them for me."
Red blinked. "You want… me to catch bugs for you?"
"Yes."
"Bugs from the inside of Viridian Forest?"
"Yes." Misty wondered if Red would just get to the point.
"And then come all the way back to hand over my freshly caught bug pokémon?"
"Huh?" Misty muttered, "Wait, you've got that wrong. You don't have to get back to me. I'll travel with you."
Red tilted his head to rest it on his left shoulder. This was the same girl who, not very long ago, had no qualms over setting her croconaw over him, blinded in her zeal for Shellder's safety. And now she wanted to travel with him— alone, through Viridian Forest of all places.
"Not worried I'd try to abuse you like Shellder?"
Misty blinked.
"Wait, that came out wrong. I mean, you just accused me of a pokémon abuser, and now you want to travel with me through Viridian Forest, which can take weeks to cover by the way, all by yourself? Knowing that you hate bugs?"
Misty looked at him sheepishly. "I did apologize for that, didn't I?"
'No, you said you wanted to start over." Red replied, knowing full well that he was being more than a little petty here. "Anyway, what kind of bugs do you need?"
Misty blinked again before comprehending his words. Her face lit up brightly, making Red wonder how a girl— around seventeen years of age, Red guessed—could be so… impulsive. Then again, apart from his mom, Felina Ivy, and Daisy, Red's experience with females older than himself was practically zero.
"Of course!" Misty replied exuberantly, taking out a notebook from her bag, that was tied across her waist like a belt. Shifting through the pages, she quickly found what she was searching for. "I need… a ledyba—"
"Those will be difficult. They aren't that common. I doubt we can even see those in the outer regions of the forest."
"A spinarak."
"Not making it easy, are you?" Red went on with his commentary.
"A pineco,"
"—without them exploding." Red sighed.
"And finally a venonat." Misty finished.
"Why don't we try to catch a scyther or a pinsir too for good measure?"
Misty frowned at his sarcastic comment but kept to herself. Showing indignation while trying to ask for help wasn't a good idea. Besides, even she knew just how difficult acquiring them would be. Not in terms of strength, but because bugs were good at hiding, and the forest was practically their domain, and none of the four she specified would be found loitering around on the outskirts of the forest. With a sigh, she replied, "Well, that is all. Those four bugs are all I need. So, does that mean you'll help me?"
"Well, since you asked so nicely…."
Misty beamed at that. To be honest with herself, she had no clue if Red was even a trainer strong enough for the job. Then again, none of the bugs were very strong by themselves, just hard to catch, and more importantly, her own team was there to aid as well. All he needed to do was to be with her and act as a wall to those creepy, crawling bugs.
"So you mean you'll help?" She exclaimed.
"Of course not" Red beamed at her.
Misty almost felt her jaw drop to the floor. "What? Why?"
"You want a reason?" Red asked, his displeasure open on his countenance. "Let me see, you try to keep my own pokémon from me without reason, and then your pokémon attacks me and you defend its actions. And now, you want me to travel into the deeper parts of the Viridian Forest to get you bugs— mind you, the same Viridian Forest that takes over a week to cross by taking the straight road along the edges? We'd be lost in there for weeks, and neither me nor my pokémon are up for that kind of magnanimity, so… Sorry!" He shrugged his shoulders in apathy.
Misty scowled at that. "You're just too scared to travel into the forest?"
Red narrowed her eyes. Did she really think he'd fall for that? "With good reason. I have no reason to travel into the deeper stretches of the forest filled with hordes of beedrill and other aggressive bug types."
Two can play this game. He mused inwardly.
"No," he replied with an exuberant shake of his head. "There is no reason for me to do so. I think I'll start out from the edges of the forest."
Now, this was not quite what Red had in mind. In truth, he wanted to explore the deeper expanses of the forest, and perhaps catch a bug-type pokémon. Despite their notoriety as poor performers in competitive battling and leagues, bug-types did have a vast array of moves that could be used in all sorts of unconventional ways. Pinsir, for example, were overwhelmingly strong, and their powerful horns were known to be able to crush golem. Beedrill were frail, but they were venomous and fast. Furthermore, any competent rookie could evolve a weedle to a beedrill within a month, their ridiculously fast evolutionary cycles being another benefit of the bug typing. And that was not considering the other, more dangerous bug-types that were rumored to run abound in Viridian Forest.
"Well, see you then." He jerked his head in casual acknowledgment, before turning to Mawile, who had a snobbish smile plastered all over her face. "Let's go Mawile."
"Mawa…"
"Wait, wait," Misty yelled, her mind running into overdrive. " I'm not asking you to do it for free. I'm willing to pay you."
Red paused at that. "How much?"
Misty quickly did a mental calculation. "Eight thousand." It was a decent bargain, and besides, the ranch would charge her more than that. Even a Magikarp cost three hundred at a Ranch. The uncommon bugs would cost a hell lot more, and besides, Lily would probably demand a psychic-verification of the events. Also, she couldn't help but agree with his claims as well. There was simply no point in wasting weeks catching bugs for someone.
Still… couldn't he have been like those brawny, enthusiastic trainers at the academy. They would practically be tripping over each other for a chance to help?
Red thought it over. Eight thousand was a lot of money. He still had a little over fifteen thousand saved from the Square, even including the fact that he had paid for the drain on his mom's investment of eight thousand. That, and he had gotten himself some impulse purchases after winning the battle against Ashley. Of course, that was excluding the roadside battles. Those weren't interesting, but they did guarantee a constant influx of cash. As he stood now, he could easily capture another pokémon, and still not have to worry about expenses till he was at least at Cerulean City. In all probability, he'd likely make even more from the battles on the road.
But, accepting this girl's offer would mean something else. Sure, it would set him back a week or two, but the Indigo League was less than three months away, and winning eight badges before then would be a pipe dream. The next conference was eleven months away— more than enough time for him to catch up. And more importantly, the extra cash could be spent in getting Mawile and Skarmory an intermediate-tier move, something to boost their skills.
Besides, given the way the girl spoke about Shellder and the fact that she had a croconaw, implied that she was somewhat knowledgeable in raising water-type pokémon. Perhaps he could use some of that to help with Shellder.
"Misty…" Red spoke carefully, "You seem to pretend to know a lot about water-types."
Apparently that was a wrong thing to say.
"Pretend?" Misty blew up again, "I am not pretending. I do know a lot about water-types in general, and have been studying them for years."
Yup, she can be goaded pretty easily, though this was a bit crude. I need to get better at this. Red mused. So, she's training to be a type-master specializing in water. I might be able to use that to help Shellder. Besides, I was going to go in either way, and this serves her right for letting that croconaw attack me like that.
He conveniently ignored the traitorous part of him whispering that he was simply being petty. Perhaps Mawile had been a bad influence on him?
Meanwhile, Mawile was observing the ongoing conversion with a vacant expression on her face. Red was hardly one for subtlety, but it seemed that even a dopey human like him could learn new tricks. Perhaps he had been observing her and trying to copy her mannerisms and deceitful charms?
Mawile took a moment to bask in that realization.
"You do?"
"Yes," The orangette snapped back. "I am studying to be a water-specialist, so keep your baseless accusations to yourself. Now I'll ask you again. Will you help me or not?"
Red's eyes shone with triumph. "Alright, I'll do it."
Mawile rolled her eyes. Amateur. She thought. Seriously though, how dopey could Red be? Nobody accepted the first price. If she was the one bargaining, she would have gotten triple that. She couldn't even count the number of poképuffs she had scammed off Red. He should have learned better by now. From what it seemed, even Shellder was a better student than Red would ever be.
"Eight thousand to accompany you and hunt for those bugs AND you'll help me teach Shellder Water Gun."
Misty was almost about to hurl expletives, but his words screeched her thoughts to a halt. "You want to teach a shellder... Water Gun?"
"He's almost got the hang of building up the pressure, but he lacks precision. His water content is also awfully low." Red admitted.
And that's how it's supposed to be. Misty mused. It's a shellder, not a freaking squirtle. They are supposed to lay low until they evolve, or are forced to evolve.
She would know. Her family had an entire jewelry business based on those bivalve pokémon. But it seemed, Red didn't know about it, possibly from his own lack of knowledge about the shellder species. Was he trying to teach it moves out of ignorance? Perhaps he was thinking it would randomly evolve mid-battle once it was strong enough?
"It's a shellder, you know," Misty said, deciding to speak with a lower tone. "It doesn't exactly have the predisposition or the proper affinity to learn those moves very well."
"I know exactly what it is," Red murmured, before looking up at her. "But I want to help it grow stronger. I know what I'm doing. Besides, I think I have a way to deal with his lack of water reserves. It's something Shellder did as a result of its training so far."
"Fine, I'll see what I can do to help." She sighed, inwardly wondering if she was making a good deal or an extremely bad one. Besides, he was thinking about the water type's benefit and wanted to make it stronger. It was adorably naive, and not very practical, but she could deal with it.
"Alright then, Misty, I believe we have a deal"
Misty frowned at the hand stretched out in front of her.
"Well then, I was planning on leaving immediately, after purchasing some rations and ingredients from the stores on the way. I'm told there's an outlet at the end of the route?"
"There is," Misty answered. "I've been to it during my… previous attempts into the forest. We should get some bug spray. A lot of bug spray. And repellants and lots of extra food too, because the forest is larger on the inside than on the outside— don't know what that means but it has to be something because of the bugs, and oh, what else am I forgetting?"
Red stared at his newest travel-partner and accomplice. Though, come to think of it, the word 'employer' would probably fit better than accomplice, even though she was going to travel with him and aid him whenever needed.
"Guess we never run out of odd people crossing our path, do we?"
Mawile sighed.
Meanwhile in Pallet Town
Delia Ketchum turned off the stove, allowing her new cook— her old Mr. Mime, to raise the frying pan off, before psychically raising the pancakes and putting them on the plates with perfect precision. Knowing Mr. Mime and its quirks, Delia had initially been somewhat wary of having it run the kitchen, but Mr. Mime's culinary abilities and its causal command over the kitchen had gone a long way to settle her doubts. The psychic had been rented out to Felina for over four years now and had occupied the position of a housekeeper for Felina and her assistants. With Felina suddenly leaving for a research convention in Saffron City, and Red having left on his journey, Delia had called it back home. There was also the fact that said Mr. Mime had issues over being 'unemployed', whatever that meant.
"Mia!" She yelled, "Breakfast is ready. Come down before it gets cold."
Usually, her proclamation would cause Mia to leave whatever work she had at hand— that being dancing nine times out of ten —and race to the tiny dining room that they had for themselves. Back when Red was home, it was almost a competition between the two of them, trying to beat each other to lunch. Now though…
"Mia?" Delia yelled again, louder this time.
Still no response.
"What the hell?" Delia wondered. Ever since she had returned from the Seafoam Islands, she had noticed a subtle change in Mia's demeanor. As a psychic-type researcher, Delia was no stranger to the mood-shifts and eccentricities of the so-called 'all-knowing-ones', as Kaz liked to put it. But this was different. Mia was sad because Red had left on his journey, that much was obvious, but happy emotions around her tended to displace any lingering negative thoughts or emotion from her. In a way, the Ralts line was literally programmed to thrive amidst positive emotions. Even the slightest positive vibe could drown out a week's worth of sorrow from them. And Mia was no exception.
That said, something had shifted within her. While she had initially appeared to be happy most of the time, only showing the occasional bout of sorrow whenever she happened to enter Red's room, Delia had noticed the undercurrent of a strong, lingering melancholy in her. It was almost like Mia had begun to love whatever tinge of sadness she had kept within herself, and was unwilling to let it go no matter what. She would still sing and dance around, and yet, when she thought that no one was watching, she'd stop her movements and just gaze at the ground, or frown at the sun, almost as if displeased by them. She still appeared as happy-go-lucky as ever, but unlike before, her happiness dissolved into a silent, emotionless smile.
The kirlia had learned to fake happiness.
It hadn't been this serious when Red had initially left for his journey, but something had changed over the last couple of days, that had made the kirlia into this… ironic caricature of her true self. When she asked Kaz what he thought about it, Delia had been shocked by Kaz's answer.
'Her smile reminds me of the silver plate on a coffin.'
"Mia it is then," Delia paused, before deciding to walk out of the kitchen, and walked past the main door. Glancing towards her extreme left, she found Mia sitting down in front of the broken window— a rather nostalgic part of her home, and the one that Red and Mia had apparently broken again when he was trying to leave without her knowing. Delia had tried to repair it several times since then, but it always broke off before the day was over.
Delia had a sneaking suspicion about who was behind it.
Red wasn't there, and Mia wanted everyone to know it. Things weren't the same, and Mia, wanted everyone to acknowledge it.
Delia calmly walked up to the silent fairy, before sitting beside her, her legs folded in front, mimicking Mia's own posture. "Everything okay?"
"Liii." She sounded, her answer sounding more like a careless grunt than an acknowledgment.
'I know this must be hard on you, with Red being away on his jour— " Delia paused, her words dying in her throat, as Mia twisted her neck, and gave her a hard stare. It was unlike the soft and cheerful gaze that practically emanated brightness. Instead, it was cold and calculating, a look that Delia had never seen on her face before.
And then she felt crippling sorrow. She remembered Red staying back at home, all by himself while she was away working at the lab. She saw Red sitting in his room, or working at the Ranch because the other kids preferred Gary to him, while Delia was away, collaborating with Ivy over some research problem. She saw Red feeding Mia with his own hands, and Mia twirling and dancing in between. She saw Mia peeping on Red as he got himself cut while out on some errand, before bending down to try to stop the bleeding, fail to do so, and then casually return to work ignoring it all. She saw Mia just sit there in the dark corridor as Red stayed comatose inside the hospital ward. She felt the sheer, agonizing, mind-bending horror as the yellow electric rodent sent thousands of volts of electricity into—
Mia looked away.
Delia blinked, as her eyes filled with tears. It took her a few seconds to reorient herself and to get ahold of these… emotions. A part of her that she was desperately trying to ignore knew what Mia had just done, and could vaguely guess at what her intentions might have been. It knew the underlying message Mia had sent without her even saying a single word. It knew that whatever Mia was feeling, it all stemmed from Red, and partly, from whatever happened after that. It knew that kirlia were creatures of joy, and being in a state of constant sorrow was anathema to them. It knew that Kirlia screamed anything but normal.
But Delia didn't react to that part of her. The memories, the pain, the emotions, the constant absences, and the raw pain— It made her want to run away in fear from Mia. It made her want to curl up and cry. Some part of her wanted to admit her own faults and repent. But she did none of that.
"Mia…" Delia started gently as she reached out towards the kirlia.
"Li," Mia grunted again, before a gale of silvery winds blew around them, causing Delia to momentarily duck her face behind her arms. By the time she opened her eyes, Mia was gone.
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