ACT ONE - IMMOLATION
Chapter 10 - How to Train Your Shellder
He should have seen it coming.
Mawile's irritation with Misty and her pokémon, or more particularly, her somewhat bossy nature, had been getting on her nerves. The orangette could be extremely stubborn at times, and it took something overwhelming to break through her walls before she could be made to accept something that differed from her own point of view.
Misty had not made her own dislike of Mawile any less subtle. For some reason, the wannabe water-specialist maintained a rather warped and, to be honest, slightly hypocritical world-view about pokémon.
On one hand, she made a clear distinction between pokémon and humans and knew that despite all the love and care that she imparted to her pokémon, they were creatures, not humans. They were lovable and she would never mistreat them, but they were not human. One might even say, that she thought of them as… pets, of a sort. It was not surprising, considering that even his mom considered Mia to be one, despite the fact that the little kirlia had practically grown alongside him.
On the other hand, this clean distinction didn't stop Misty from expecting pokémon to behave according to human standards. Eat normal, cooked food, and follow a civilized way of life like humans did. It wasn't exactly wrong per se, but it wasn't something that could be imposed on them either. Mawile, like most wild pokémon, was a hunter, and hunting prey was second nature to her, regardless of how civilized humans felt about it.
On second thought, perhaps working at the ranch for all this time had desensitized him to the more common conceptions that people tended to adhere to. Red wasn't always like this. In fact, his initial days at the ranch were probably some of the worst experiences in his life, having to deal with a bunch of rambunctious creatures going awry, simply because he had expected them to behave like he would.
"Narrowmindedness is the prime cause of stubbornness," the old man used to say, "we do not readily credit that which is beyond our view."
Red hadn't really understood it back then. He did now though.
"Are you sure you aren't overreacting?" Misty asked, her voice toned down to almost a whisper.
"I'm not overreacting," He retorted, stressing the last word. "While I understand that what she did was wrong, I also understand her motivation. And you'd do good to stop giving her those looks when you think I'm not looking."
"But she's—- I mean, she killed the bugs with— she enjoyed killing them."
"Since when do you even care about bugs? You literally scream whenever they come near you."
Misty scoffed at the blithe taunt. "I should inform you that I've had a phobia for bugs ever since I was a child. And even so, I just avoid them. I don't want to see them killed, and I certainly do not enjoy killing. Your mawile is—"
"A pokémon that grew up by herself." Red finished for her. "A pokémon, not a human. They hunt their prey, they maim and kill. It's what they do."
"It's certainly not what trained pokémon do." Misty retorted. "My father is practically a water-master and has trained under the famous Master Gregory, the previous Cerulean City gym leader. I might not be a trainer myself, but I do meet trainers on a daily basis at my school, so allow me to tell you, it doesn't work that way. Trained pokémon, are exactly that. Trained. They follow our rules, they become a part of our civilized society. They don't stay… savages."
"And obviously your croconaw attacking me was a result of being civilized." Red drawled.
Misty pursed her lips, keeping back a half-scowl. "I admit that was my mistake, and even more so, for allowing my croconaw to behave like that. But his evolution is nearing, and the transition has made him… temperamental. Having to walk so much, instead of swimming has only made him worse."
"So its crankiness is just not for me."
"Croconaw is eternally cranky." Misty proclaimed. Her lips split into something that was almost but not quite a smile. "Regardless, I believe you should put down some… limits for your mawile. I understand that you have quite a bond with your starter, and that's a beautiful thing, but—"
"Keep her in line." Red finished for her with a sigh.
"...something like that."
The two kept walking for several minutes, but there was still no sign of the deceiver pokémon.
"I know…" He muttered.
"..Huh?"
Red looked up, a mirthless smile on his face. "I don't admit to being the epitome of what a trainer should be like. Truth be told, I'm kinda figuring things out myself. Life at the ranch might have given me a more… warped view of things. Not right or wrong, mind you— just different."
"I can understand that," Misty replied.
"I doubt it," Red chuckled. "Even the old man has some issues with my thoughts on training and being a trainer, but I guess I'm stubborn as they come."
"No surprise there." The orangette muttered. "Not that you're a bad trainer or anything. In fact, you're rather good from what I've seen. You'd give Drew a run for his money."
"Who's that?" Red asked, absently staring at the map in front of them. As far as he could see they were going straight, so why did this clearing look so much like the last one? A horrible thought that they had been moving in circles entered his mind for a moment before he quickly shook his head.
"Just a jerk at school. A natural at battling, mind you, but a complete jerk."
"So your school does teach people apart from wannabe water-type defenders."
Misty gently punched him on the arm. "That was mean."
"Just kidding." Red chuckled. "I never really asked about it, but where's this school of yours anyway?" He remembered her talking about the entire expedition being the result of some elaborate and complicated project for school, but the subject had never really come up.
"Saffron City. It's called Pokémon Tech Academy. It's like, one of the most prestigious institutions in the—" she paused, realizing that Red had stopped in his tracks. "What?"
Red gaped at her from his sedentary position. "Pokémon Tech? Like the Pokémon Tech? The ones where the fucking Elite Four are visiting lecturers?"
Misty giggled. "I didn't know you're a fan."
"I'm not," He snapped back, "I just read a little bit about it."
"Of course you did," Misty chortled, tilting her head. "But yeah, it's the same. Kinda unsure if it's as great as it's hyped up to be, but it's pretty good. We have Type-masters from all over the world, but the school only caters to the super-rich. Honestly, sometimes I wonder why my parents waste so much money on my formal education. Apprenticing under a water-master would have been just as good a start."
Red muttered something about 'casual' and 'teleportation' under his breath.
"Huh? You say something?"
"...No. Nothing at all." Red replied, consistently glancing around. "So, you get to learn from the Elite Four, huh?"
Misty shook her head, a wistful expression on her face. "Not all of them. Just Lady Lorelei, though she is very informal and hates that epithet. 'Ma'am' is the best that we have managed to make her accept. She actually prefers to be addressed directly by name. Sir Juan, however, is a completely different story. Address him without the 'sir', and you will have problems. But yeah, I have been there since I was twelve and it's been pretty awesome."
Some people have all the luck. Red mused. Learning from Elite Four Lorelei, an Ice-master. No wonder she calls herself a water-specialist.
"So… how long have you been studying there?"
"Is that a roundabout way of asking me my age?" Misty teased. She had occasionally spotted Red checking her out from time to time. It had almost been amusing. Then again, if she were honest with herself, she had begun to slowly enjoy the other trainer's company. Red was quite easy on the eyes, and the fact that he knew his stuff, and yet lacked the common arrogance that usually came with such knowledge was a plus point too. Also, and she'd be damned before she accepted it, but she was starting to depend upon him.
"Uhm… no?" Red eased his collar, caught off-guard with that question. "Just a random question."
"If you say so." Misty rolled her eyes, before glancing around. "Do you think Mawile took a different path? It's kind of… difficult to see in the dark."
"It is possible, but we already—" Red began, before he paused, raising his hand horizontally to keep her behind him. There was an odd shadow approaching them from a distance. Even with the flashlight, all he could see was a large lavenderish lump, with several smaller lumps growing out of it. It seemed to have claws as well. There was also something yellowish towards what seemed to be the underbelly, which suddenly seemed to throw out a large, metallic flap outside, not unlike a tongue, as if sensing the environment around it for threats. It took odd, and despite all his experience at the ranch, Red couldn't remember seeing or studying something remotely familiar.
The lump crept closer.
"EEEEEH!" Misty shrieked, keeping her voice down to a low whisper. "What's that?"
"No idea," Red muttered, raising his pokédex with his right hand and reaching for Skarmory's pokéball with the left. Without preamble, he turned the device on and scanned the approaching creature.
No match found. Given the location and the physique, the specimen seems to be some kind of bug. It is possible that this is a novel bug species unspecified in the Inter-regional database.
"Well that was helpful," Red muttered, preparing to release Skarmory from her pokéball. First, the thief stole their meals, then Mawile ran away and now this. Was there no end to his troubles? Perhaps there was something wrong with him that made the whole universe go crazy.
"Oh my God, it's a bug. It's a large bug. Right? It's gonna tie me up, hang me upside down and crawl—"
"Misty," Red hissed, "kindly shut up."
Misty complied, scooting backward.
"What are you?" Red called out. "Show yourself. We don't want to hurt you."
The creature let out a soft rustling sound, as if something below its belly was trying to move out. After two anxious seconds, they found a tiny head poking out of the large, lump. The surprise doubled when they realized who it was they were staring at.
The familiar face of his favorite deceiver peeked out of the light purple mass and blinked at Red, before barking out in happiness. "Mawa… wile?"
"I really, really should have seen this coming," Red muttered in half-doleful tones as he slowly rubbed his face. Sparing another glance at the unconscious growlithe, he turned to her bleakly. "Where the hell did you manage to find a growlithe anyway? We're in the middle of a forest."
"Mawawawa!" Mawile replied seriously, before dropping herself to the ground to rest. Obviously dragging that thing from God knows where had exhausted her.
"Never mind." Red sighed. Sometimes he really wished he could understand her. With another sigh, he went back to rummaging through his backpack.
Mawile shrugged with a yawn, though he got the distinct impression that her reply was something along the lines of— 'It's your loss'.
On seeing his starter drag what looked like an unconscious growlithe on her jaw, he had decided to help her to drag it back to the tent without interrogating her. Knowing Mawile's occasionally finicky behavior, he had decided to leave it on the backburner for now.
Still, he mused, what on earth did it do to piss her off?
Carefully dragging the unfortunate fire-type towards the tent, he deposited it near the campfire. Given the strange lumps formed all over the growlithe's head and body, it probably needed some immediate healing.
Poor thing.
Currently, said fire-type was spread-eagled upon the grassy floor outside. Having found what he needed, Red quickly walked out of the tent, carrying two injection syringes in his left hand, and a single tray with cotton and ointment. "Misty, can you make sure that it doesn't move about?"
Mawile happily raised her jaw, volunteering for the job.
"I didn't mean beat it senseless." Red snapped, making Mawile drop her jaw in disappointment. "This one needs treatment." He looked up at Misty, who seemed to stare at him with a calculating expression. "Can you keep it from moving?"
"…sure," Misty muttered, releasing Starmie. The starfish pokémon shook its entire body, its jewel reflecting the light of the campfire. "Starmie, I need you to disable it."
"Shtaar!" Starmie replied in acknowledgment, as the jewel on its center began to glow, and almost instantly, the growlithe's entire body was lit up, with a light bluish aura along the edges.
"That should do," Red muttered, pushing the syringe into the oblivious fire-type. There was the expected movement of its body muscles contracting as the syringe forced itself through the tissues, but the psychic-lock held.
"What was that?" Misty asked.
"Standard anesthesia," Red answered, putting the now-empty syringe away, and picking up the other one. Unlike the former colorless one, this one was tinged pink. With utmost care, he injected it into the still unconscious fire-type. He waited for a moment before he felt the growlithe's body sag down, a proof that the potion was taking effect.
"Is that?" Misty blinked, realizing what it was. Then she glanced at Red, and back at the syringe. "That wasn't a standard Full Restore, was it?"
Red shook his head. "I cannot claim to know what's wrong with it, save the obvious injury on the head, and the bruises on the entire body. I'm pretty surprised that this growlithe is even alive in the first case."
Mawile perked up at that. From what she knew, the growlithe had not only been alive, it had talked to her, and even made promises to protect her from imaginary enemies. Certainly, Red was overexaggerating? ...Right?
Full Restores were a mandatory item in a trainer's backpack. They were a mix of medicinal herbs, berries, chemicals and several other ingredients in tiny quantities, to be merged together in definite amounts to act as 'first-aid' to the injured pokémon. The potions were meticulously brewed and sold at Pokémarts to the aspiring Trainer population. The effects included detoxification against common poisons, an analgesic to keep the pain down and increase tissue rejuvenation. Pokémon, in general, had higher cellular regeneration than humans, and a standard Full Restore enhanced the process significantly.
"This is a modified version, used specifically for deeper wounds and injuries. I cannot add an analgesic at the moment so I applied the anesthetic earlier."
Impressive. Misty mused. "I didn't think that potion-brewing was one of your talents."
Red chuckled at the compliment. While potion-brewing wasn't exactly difficult, it wasn't terribly easy either. Besides, with Restore packs available as potion-vials at Pokémarts at somewhat reasonable prices, it was no wonder that most trainers purchased the standard sets whenever they visited the town. Potion-brewing might have been the norm some fifty years ago, but very few of today's trainers ever bothered to learn how.
"Where did you learn to do it? I don't think that potion-brewing is part of the Trainer License Exam?"
"It isn't, but the standard Full Restore isn't something that works on every pokémon at all times. That goes double when you are dealing with one of the biggest ranches in Kanto."
"And you cannot add the analgesic because…"
Red snorted, noticing a test when he saw one. "because painkillers tend to have horrible effects when used alongside regenerative potions."
Misty opened her mouth and then closed it again.
"I shouldn't have doubted you," She laughed sardonically. "I must remember to check out the local ranches before applying for medical school. Might save me a year or so."
Red chuckled at that. "I'm hardly an expert. The old man taught me that pain potions contain flux-weed, and they do not mix with regenerative ones. So, anesthesia is a better choice."
"Professor Oak taught you how to brew specific versions of the Full Restore," Misty muttered, re-evaluating what she knew about her newest acquaintance and sort-of-friend. Not for the first time, she wondered about the nature of the relationship between the young teen and the legendary former Champion of Kanto.
"Just the basics," Red replied offhandedly. "I tend not to purchase Full Restores from the Pokémarts. Acquiring the ingredients directly from the Pokémon Center is easier and… more affordable. During my stay at the Center, I was able to prepare enough for my trip through Viridian Forest. Though knowing my luck, it is surprising that this is the first time I'm needing to use one of those."
"Sure. How long do you think this will take?"
"Should be a couple of hours or something. I'm… not sure about the extent of its original injuries, and..." he dragged out, before deciding to ask Mawile what he had been ignoring until now.
"Mawile, are these lumps, because of you?"
Mawile nodded sagaciously. "Maw… wile!"
"Err.. right. Next time avoid hitting someone over and over on the head. It can give you a nasty headache when you wake up. Okay?"
Mawile nodded in acknowledgment. That much she could remember. Besides, it seemed like her plan was working. She might have gone a little overboard, but now Red was stuck with a growlithe, and as such, had something to occupy his mind. It also implied that Mawile would be devoid of his attention too, but she could handle that much. After all, she handled Shellder and Skarmory just fine. It wouldn't take too long to teach the puppy its place in the pecking order.
Red shook his head, whispering something along the lines of 'doomed'. He ignored Misty's smirk and glanced down at the fallen fire-type.
That reminded him. If he captured it inside a pokéball, then the growlithe would officially be his pokémon. Wait, his? He hadn't even battled it. It had been Mawile. Come to think of it, Shellder had just tagged along and Red had kept him out of sentimentality. Skarmory… shit, even Skarmory had been gifted to him because Mawile had won the fight against that vicious ursaring.
Red looked at the pokéball in his hand, half-amused and half-concerned. Some trainer he was, his starter had caught more pokémon than he did. Perhaps he should simply quit his dream of becoming a Champion and devote himself to a life of being Mawile's caretaker? She was certainly doing a better job than him, to be honest.
Red chuckled sardonically at the amusing thought.
Mawile, the pokémon trainer. Traveling all around Kanto with her pet human, Red, defeating pokémon large and small, and ultimately becoming Champion.
"What the hell are you giggling about?" Misty asked, puzzled.
"Huh?" Red blubbered, caught off-guard. "Just an amusing thought." He lifted the empty pokéball, and pointing it towards the still unconscious growlithe, and clicked the button. A thin beam of red light shot out, sucking the creature into the device. The lid shut, but instead of the usual 'ding', the lid opened again, releasing the growlithe back on the ground.
That was strange. Red mused. Must be an error.
He clicked the button to repeat the previous step. Once again, the lid opened back, releasing it outside. It was probably for the best that the growlithe was unconscious, or else it might have pitched a fit by now.
"Is something wrong?" Misty asked, confused.
"I don't know. I keep trying to capture him with the pokéball but it keeps ejecting rejecting it. I'd understand if this growlithe was awake and powerful enough to resist capture but that's not it. And I'm pretty that the ball isn't malfunctioning either. The only other explanation is that it's already caught. But it's a wild pokémon. So it doesn't make sense unless it was kidnapped or—"
His words died in his throat, as he turned towards his starter with a sickly expression, "Mawile… what did you do?"
Mawile gulped. For the first time since her triumphant return, she began to feel that not everything was going her way.
Mawile did not like the way things were shaping about. For one, Red seemed to be unusually concerned, frightened even—at the fact that the growlithe might have belonged to someone else. She was confused. Did humans really not understand the concept of belongings? He had reacted oddly over the poképuffs too, so she supposed she shouldn't be too surprised. Really, if she found some prey, she'd keep it for herself— either consuming it then and there, or storing it away in a safe den for later. What did it matter if someone else saw it earlier? If they couldn't make the first strike, they didn't deserve it.
" What am I going to do?" Red asked, facepalming as he sat on his knees. "If this growlithe has a trainer, then he must be searching for it as well. It'd be like I stole the pokémon. That's not an easy offense to deal with."
"I did tell you about controlling your mawile's insolent—"
"Misty, can we please not do this right now?" He requested, his face a caricature filled with despondency. Turning to Mawile, he asked, "Mawile, I'm going to need you to answer this honestly, all right?"
Mawile nodded.
"Was this growlithe alone when you found it?"
Nod.
"Did you just… attack it out of nowhere?"
Mawile almost felt insulted. Really now, what did Red think of her? She wasn't some mindless beast that would attack others without reason. Sure, she did that for prey. But the growlithe wasn't prey. The growlithe was a prospective recruit, and it'd be counterproductive to kill a potential recruit before... recruiting it.
"Mawile?" Red asked, his voice strained.
Shake.
Red sighed. Well, the worst didn't happen. "Did the growlithe attack you first then?" He hoped she'd say yes, since then he could spin the entire thing as self-defense.
Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen. Mawile shook her head.
"So, you didn't attack it, and it didn't attack you first. And its trainer was absent. Good so far?"
Nod.
"Well someone must have attacked first," Misty suggested, giving an evil glare at the deceiver pokémon. To her, it was pretty easy to understand what had transpired. Mawile had probably deceived the poor thing and attacked it out of pure viciousness.
"Not now, Misty." Red waved her off, his mind running into overdrive. "But later on, you attacked it, right?"
Mawile nodded. She wondered if Red would just get to the point. Playing twenty-thousand questions wasn't how she had expected it to go.
"Did you… talk to the growlithe before attacking it?"
Ah, now it was turning out to be interesting. Mawile nodded eagerly, adding an animated 'Mawawawa!' at the end of it.
"Okay, that's better." Red stood up, rubbing his chin. "Did it tell you if it was captured by someone else?"
Mawile thought about it. Growlithe seemed to be completely ignorant about the concept of a human trainer, so it was going to be a 'no', but come to think of it, it did mention running away for 'freedom' and all of that philosophical bullshit. It didn't think of itself as a stray either, but explaining all of that to Red was a difficult and Mawile was tired of playing this one-way guessing game.
She shook her head. What did it matter if she twisted the truth a bit? Growlithe did say that he didn't have a trainer.
"That's… strange." Red cupped his chin with his left hand. "If it isn't a captured pokémon and—wait, are you certain that it isn't a captured pokémon?"
Another nod.
"That certainly does not help." Misty frowned "If it doesn't have a trainer, then the pokéball would have accepted the capture."
"It would, but look at its wounds. Some idiot must have tried to capture it, but then the growlithe proved too strong and broke out. Probably when the trainer wasn't looking."
"That seems rather far-fetched to me."
"Do you have a better idea?" Red challenged.
"As a matter of fact, I do." Misty retorted darkly, "look at its neck."
"What do you mean look at its—," he paused midway, as he understood what he was seeing. "Is that a—a—?"
"A shock collar, yes," Misty replied, scowling in disgust. "Whoever put that on must be a real sonofabitch."
Red could agree with that.
The brown collar around its neck, seemed to be made of leather, with a pure metal collar cloaked inside it. Shock collars were a thing of the past, much before the invention of pokéball-technology. Back then, the more dangerous breeds of pokémon were kept under control using shock-collars, and trained to fight in an arena with other brutes. It was not something the present generation would ever consider using.
"Do you know how to break it?"
Misty shook her head. Shock-collars were notoriously difficult to break, or any idiot could have broken through one and sent an incredibly dangerous creature free. She didn't exactly know what the material was, but it was known to be extremely resistant to corrosion and were elastic enough to absorb most physical attacks without cracking.
"But why use a shock-collar on this one? I mean, it's a growlithe, for God's sake." Red muttered, wondering why someone would go to such extents on a growlithe. "Either way, what do we do then?"
"We should take it to the Pokémon Center in Pewter. They'd probably be able to deal with it. For the time being, it'll have to stay on its neck." She glanced at the poor fire-type with pity in her eyes.
Red glanced at Misty before his focus shifted to Mawile, who seemed more baleful than he would have liked. Going from the frown on her face, it was possible that Mawile was evaluating the entire concept of a trained pokémon, based on Misty's words. For someone that valued her personal freedom over anything else, listening to such barbaric history was sure to incite a reaction.
"I think…" He cleared his throat, attracting everyone's attention. "It's getting quite late, and we should all get some sleep. Perhaps by tomorrow, it will be awake and we can find a solution to its problems."
"Wile!" Mawile muttered softly and pushed herself up. She walked up to Red who knelt down to hold her. Ignoring everything else, Mawile dug herself into his shirt and shut her eyes.
"Red?" Misty asked, watching them with abrupt fascination.
"You go get some sleep. I'll be…" He caressed Mawile's head, "I'll be there in a while."
When Growlithe woke up, the first thing he felt was anger. This was surprising because he had long learned the futility of getting angry. Anger led to pain. It was better to keep your head down and do what was told.
in fact, apart from the ever-consistent and ever-increasing sensation of pain, he could hardly remember any substantial emotion he had displayed.
Well, other than a sense of helplessness.
He had calmly watched his fellow kin try their level best to acquire freedom, only to end in utter disappointment or death. Come to think of it, it was almost laughable that despite his cold cynicism, it was he who had ended up being free from the white-walled prison.
And now, after finally tasting the feeling of freedom, he found it lacking. Life back in the prison was filled with pain and suffering, but he had a reason to survive back there. Every day was a battle, a battle to overcome and survive. To see the next day, even if in hope of a pipe dream like freedom. Though he wasn't quite sure what to do now that he was free. He felt like a rudderless ship, sailing in the sea, without aim or direction.
Come to think of it, was he still free? From what he could remember he had just been captured by the tiny yellow pokémon he had tried to befriend in the forest. The experience with the mawile, while novel, had left him with a sour taste in his mouth. He had almost empathized with the mawile, and had even developed feelings for her—.on a more personal level —only for them to be squashed like a bug by her cunning and cruelty. All of those slams on his head had been agonizing. Why, he could even feel the mind-boggling pain tear through his—
Wait. Mind-boggling pain? Without opening his eyes, Growlithe carefully assessed himself. There was practically no sense of pain in his body. Even the consistent ache in his hindlimbs had vanished. The pain on his head from those slams was gone as well, and he felt an incredible lightness in his body.
He almost felt… younger.
Why does it feel so good? Am I… am I dreaming?
Growlithe slowly cracked open his eyes— enough to see the outside, but not enough for anyone to realize that he has regained consciousness. It would not do to fall into that deceptive creature's trap a second time, and Growlithe wasn't going to allow anyone, especially the mawile, to one-up him again.
Which took him back to his original thought process.
Yes, Anger. Anger at being deceived. Anger at being tricked when all he had wanted to do was to offer his help. Anger at—
For the second time after waking up, Growlithe's thoughts screeched to a halt. A few steps away from him, lay the deceptive mawile creature. Only she wasn't on the grassy floor. Instead, she was leaning against a human—a human— 's body without a care in the world. Said human had a cap covering most of his face and was leaning against a tree trunk, asleep. The juxtaposition seemed utterly confusing.
He could have accepted the mawile sleeping a little away from her human, maintaining a safe distance. He might have even understood her intentions to please the human by getting him another slave so that she might have less work to do. After all, two slaves were better than one. That was common sense. But this?
Mawile had a tiny smile on her face. For one moment, he felt oddly… jealous. Strange, he didn't know he was capable of experiencing such an emotion.
He shook his head. Something was wrong with him. Why was he feeling jealous of someone who was imprisoned by a human? Surely there was some sort of sinister bondage at play. Either way, he was awake and it was time to leave. He'd need to be silent though. Just push himself up, and slowly get out of their sight. The sun was up in the sky, and soon enough, he could find his way through the forest and—
Pause.
Wait, there was something wrong in that sentence. The sun was up which caused brightness. which meant the men-in-black would be up. And the lack of darkness usually meant that those men-in-black would probably be looking for him. Besides, he had no idea just how large the forest was, or how to traverse it faster than the men-in-black.
What to do? What to do? What to—?
"But my trainer does not experiment on me, and he takes good care of me too. Perhaps you can meet him. He will probably help you."
Mawile had revealed that to him earlier. And judging by the fact that he wasn't in a cage, it was obvious that the human wasn't too interested in capturing him. That, or he was dumb when compared to the rest of his species. Mawile had called him dopey, after all.
But it also seemed like the human had something to do with the absence of the pain he was accustomed to. Why would he do that? According to his experience, humans weren't ever good to him.
This is so… confusing.
He pushed himself up on his four legs, feeling the surprising lack of the dull ache that he had grown accustomed to. The pain on the head was now almost fading away, leaving nothing more than a distant memory. The bruises on his body from the fight the previous day seemed to have healed as well. Could it be that— that the mawile was right, and this human was actually somewhat altruistic? Yes, that was an apt description. He wasn't stupid enough to think of a human as kind though. That would be a little overboard.
He stretched himself out, feeling his muscles contract and relax.
He felt good. He felt really good. In fact, it felt so good that he subconsciously let out a happy woof.
…
…
"Eh!" Red yawned, stretching his hands upward, "I see you've woken up!"
…
...
On second thought, that might have been a mistake.
If there was one pokémon in Kanto that everyone knew about, it would probably be a growlithe. It was almost hilarious, that despite being a fire-type, and a rather versatile one at that, spotting a growlithe was practically a run-of-the-mill event. In fact, even Pallet Town, one of the smallest towns in Kanto, had several dozens of those puppies, running around in small groups. Even more surprisingly, the people that tamed them were mostly shopkeepers, gardeners, businessmen—essentially non-trainers— to act as watchdogs. Mia hated them with a passion, mostly because of their annoying tendency to dig up large holes in the ground and then urinate in them.
All in all, Red had never really considered catching a growlithe. At least until a few hours ago after he utilized a Full Restore potion to heal one of them.
"You're finally awake!" Red yawned, making sure not to drop Mawile as he gently stretched out. Mawile muttered something in her sleep at his movements, before burrowing deeper into his shirt.
The growlithe let out a soft growl.
It seems to be somewhat afraid. And possibly confused.
"Look, I'm not exactly sure what happened," he said softly, "but I know Mawile hurt you." He noticed the puppy glare at the sleeping Mawile. "Yeah, well, she's a feisty one and tends to go a little overboard from time to time and," And now the confusion in puppy's face deepened —
"I'm making a mess of things, aren't I? Well, this is the first time I've had to do this," he sighed. "Tell you what? I'll be making breakfast now. How about you join us? You aren't feeling any more pain, are you?"
The growlithe slowly shook his head.
"Good," Red continued, oblivious to the growing confusion in the former captive, "I suppose you ran off from someone who," he pointed at the collar around the neck, "put that collar on you, right?"
"I suppose you ran off from someone who put that collar on you, right?"
Growlithe froze for a moment. The collar had been on his person for as long as he remembered being alive. He had never even considered its presence to date. Come to think of it, it was probably what caused those sudden shocks. And clearly, it wasn't something that a free pokémon would have.
Hesitantly, he nodded.
Red looked angry, and for a moment, Growlithe steadied himself to face an attack. Instead, the human spoke again, "that was an extremely bad thing to do. I have no idea how to remove that thing, but if you come with me to the Pokémon Center, maybe I could get it off for you."
What, just like that?
"Come to think about it, you do look a little different. I'm sure the mane was supposed to have a cream-ish color, and not bright white. Same for purple tinge. You're most likely a shiny? That's probably why that asshole decided to capture you."
Growlithe frowned. He was reliably certain that whatever the reason he had been bred in captivity for—the color of his mane was definitely not one of them. Perhaps this trainer was indeed... dopey, was it? Even so, he did feel a little glad that this human was different from the ones he had been exposed to back at the prison.
"Either way," Red continued, "don't try to run around. You need to get some rest, and we aren't going anywhere soon. Don't worry, worst comes to worst and that asshole returns, we'll protect you."
…
Growlithe stared at the human with a vacant expression on his face.
Protect him?
Considering everything, he had expected this human—Red, was it? —to be slightly better than those men-in-white, but protect him? He, who could cause this human to die a horrible death by burning him alive. He, who could melt the entire place with his corrosive acid, who could, if all else failed, use his smog to poison the surroundings and flee— this human thought that he could protect him?
It was new. It was different and weird, and completely unlike anything he had experienced. And yet, it was strangely comforting.
Growlithe considered the maelstrom of conflicting thoughts he was going through, and decided that he didn't like it. Perhaps the entire concept of freedom was overhyped. Or perhaps it was simply his cursed luck. After another moment of self-introspection, he decided that it was probably the latter.
Growlithe let out another woof, after what he assumed was an appropriate time to indicate bashful sincerity. He could deal with the Mawile later, and it was true that staying with this human was a good start to getting out of the forest. It was certainly better than being on the run.
I hope I haven't made a mistake.
For a second growlithe thought back to the white-walled maze before he shook his head clear of such depressing thoughts. He had made his choice, and now he would have to see it to the end. Regardless, this human couldn't be worse than the men-in-black.
Growlithe looked at the Mawile still cuddling into his shirt. Truly, she was vicious, especially for something so small and cute looking. And this was her adjuster, or her trainer, as she called it. She couldn't possibly have become so vicious on her own, could she?
Growlithe narrowed his eyes at the human trainer.
For now, he would reserve judgment.
"Somehow I should have known that you would pick up a stray," Misty commented as she walked out of the tent, freshened up and ready for breakfast. "You seem exactly like the kind of person who'd do that."
Red rolled his eyes as he sat upon a log of wood, cooking what was quite possibly the last piece of meat he had preserved for the trip. After this, they'd need to go vegetarian for a while. That, or survive on canned food. Come to think of it, it had been like three days and there had been absolutely zero signs of a venonat. Perhaps they should have chosen some other place instead?
"So…" Misty asked, casually observing the growlithe lying on the grass, who was watching Red with utmost attention. "Any plans for the day?"
"Nothing spectacular. Skarmory's gone for her usual flight, and Mawile's being grumpy since her poképuffs are stolen. I was thinking of working with Shellder. Mawile can train with Skarmory over her Flash technique."
"Ah, your super-secret technique then. I'm dying to see if it's just as magnificent as you claimed. Perhaps you should show me so that I can bask in the magnificence of your shellder's genius."
Red arched an eyebrow.
"Okay, that was probably a little too much, but I'm somewhat interested. It's a water-type after all." Misty grinned at him.
"And you, of course, are the messiah of all water-types. What would they do without you?" He quipped back.
"Prat."
Red chuckled and returned to his cooking. "Yeah, yeah. Either way, our newest companion will probably be hanging around until Pewter City. We're stuck here till we catch a venonat, so you've got ample time to witness Shellder's awesomeness. So, don't get your knickers in a twist over—"
"Are you implying something?" The voice that interrupted him was definitely Misty's, only unnaturally cold.
"Huh? Implying wha—?" He answered, before it hit him.
Oh.
It must be noted that Misty had a habit of wearing ridiculously short skirts— barely enough to reach her thighs. Red had often run into uncomfortable situations because of this. Especially because of that one time when they were being chased by beedrill and he had commented about how the wind was 'pushing her ridiculously short skirt too far up'.
The resulting explosion had almost been funny. Almost.
Red shook himself off his reverie. "Nope. Nothing at all."
"Good." Misty chagrined.
Crisis averted, Red returned to his cooking. From what he understood, the girl was rather attached to her sense of fashion, even if she did admit that her skirt was on the short side. Of course, that didn't stop her from blowing up like a volcano whenever someone noticed, or worse, pointed it out at her face.
"How's your croconaw doing?"
"He's… okay. It seems like the high-pitched noise had an adverse effect on him. He is close to evolution, so his body is changing faster than he can get used to it. The skin near his ears is softer now since the hide would get replaced with external scales as a feraligatr. But until then, it is a weak spot."
"Feraligatr, huh?" Red mused. Feraligatr were infamous for their monstrous strength, and were quite frankly, the strongest water-types in the Johto region. Though their monstrous strength usually impacted their speed, and they ended up becoming long-ranged attackers that relied heavily upon their body's powerful defense.
"Yeah, and once he evolves and gets used to his strength, I'll show Lily what I've got," Misty replied wistfully. "Last time, her crawdaunt soundly defeated my croconaw. This time, we'll turn the tables."
"Crawdaunt?"Red asked, before pulling out his pokédex. "Let's see..."
Misty chuckled. "You won't get any information on that. Crawdaunt is a—"
Crawdaunt, the Rogue pokémon. Crawdaunt has an extremely violent nature that compels it to challenge other living things to battle. Other life-forms refuse to live in ponds inhabited by this Pokémon, making them desolate places.
"—a Hoenn pokémon and not registered on the Kanto pokédex." She finished wryly. "But I suppose that's not a Kanto dex, is it?"
"Nope." Red answered, emphasizing the 'p'. "This one's an upgrade. A National Dex, I think it's called. It has access to the Inter-regional Database. The old man gave it to me when I started my journey."
"Of course, he did, what was I thinking?" Misty muttered sourly. "Some people really have all the luck."
"Yeah, yeah, keep complaining about luck when you literally burn money, teleporting everywhere."
"Stop being sore about that, okay?" Misty complained good-naturedly. "Besides, it's not like I cheated on you or anything. You agreed to my offer."
"Keep reminding me, why don't you," Red grumbled, glancing at the pokédex entry. "Damn, this looks rather menacing."
"They are," Misty agreed, "Crawdaunt are called the rogues of the sea. Not very good on land, but they can be quite devastating when in water. More so, if you can teach it to master Aqua Jet."
"Aqua Jet? What is that?"
Misty blinked before she realized. "Ah right. I guess with you knowing stuff all over the place, I thought you knew about it as well. Aqua Jet's a move created by Master Gregory during his years as the Cerulean Gym Leader. It's something that everyone apprenticing at the Cerulean gym is taught early on."
"A move tutor then?" Red asked. From what he knew, move-tutors were damn-costly.
"In a way, but considering the number of people out there who know Aqua Jet and are trying to modify that technique further, it has somewhat lost its status as a move-tutor and is simply a move, or move-ish, I guess." Misty paused, before remembering their actual discussion, "in fact, it is something that would fit your shellder perfectly."
Red blinked. "Come again?"
"Yeah, Shellder has the right requirements for it. It has a strong shell, and is capable of generating high amounts of pressure from what you told me, and has yet to learn how to manipulate said pressure at will. Come to think of it, Aqua Jet is exactly what it needs."
Red blinked again. "So, you're actually serious."
Misty gave him a vacant look. "Why wouldn't I be serious?"
"Because I distinctly remember hearing someone commenting at how Shellder was the epitome of uselessness."
Misty cringed at that. "I know… but, come on. Nobody uses a shellder and that's because it's nearly impossible to teach it anything. However, your Shellder is anything but that. I'm still wondering if it had a psychic-type for a parent. That would certainly explain its affinity for Double Team and… it's slightly above-average intelligence."
Red opened his mouth, then closed it. Slowly gathering his thoughts, he spoke up, "What is Aqua Jet anyway?"
Misty grinned. "Body-based pressure manipulation. The pokémon in question gathers a revolving layer of water all around it, and propels itself forward by jetting the water behind it at high pressure."
"Okay." Red murmured, wondering where this was leading to.
"So basically, if we are able to teach Shellder how to freely manipulate pressure, it will come closer to controlling its internal pressure. And wasn't that what you were alluding to, back when you told me about Water Bullet?"
"Yes, but controlling internal pressure like that, and setting up a rotating wall of water around itself— all of that sounds like a rather high-tier move to me," Red answered skeptically. "Shellder is barely able to manipulate the basic pressure required for a Water-gun, and this is well—"
"I know," Misty answered, still upbeat, "Aqua Jet is a composite move, and I never meant to teach Shellder the complete version. Hell, I'm unsure if Shellder can even produce enough water for a standard Aqua Jet. But it is still pressure-manipulation, and from what you told me, the technique you are devising requires a lot of control over that."
"Well yes, but in the opposite direction of what Aqua Jet is about." Red refuted back.
"Semantics," Misty waved it off. "If I can teach a shellder to eject highly pressurized water backward, I can do it for the front as well. Croconaw can easily demonstrate some part of it, and Shellder can learn from it."
"Uhm, I'm pretty sure that it won't work out the way you think it is."
"Excuse me, who's the budding Water Specialist here?" Misty challenged. "I'm sure I can teach your shellder how to manipulate pressure." She paused, her tone challenging. "Just watch and learn."
Red crossed his arms with a smirk. "I'm watching."
Not one to shrink from a challenge, Misty calmly released her croconaw, uncaring of the fact that even the stray growlithe was observing her every move. She allowed a passing glance towards the deceitful ivory-ish creature who was watching her wolfishly before turning to her starter.
"Come on Croconaw, we have a point to prove."
The obviously-unhappy water-type sneered, before looking up at his trainer. What nonsense had she dragged him into now? First all that walk in the city, and then through the forest. The discomforting shriek had certainly not helped matters, and if Misty's words were to be believed, then the mawile had apparently tried to murder him in his sleep. Life in Viridian Forest had become terribly dangerous recently.
"Oh, don't be a spoilsport." Misty chided.
Croconaw sighed, deciding that it was best to be done with whatever annoyance his trainer had in mind. The exhaustion from the previous day's events was still clouding his mind, and a little rest inside his pokéball would be preferable. He turned towards his trainer and nodded. "Croc?"
"Now that's a good boy." Misty beamed. "We only need to teach this little shellder how to manipulate pressure."
Oh, just that? He thought sarcastically. Why don't I teach him Hydro Pump while I'm at it?
"Croconaw?" Misty asked. "Any issues?"
The big-jaw pokémon could only sigh in resignation and trudged all over to the shellder lying inconspicuously on one end. Come to think of it, it was the bane of his existence. Ever since the little tyke had fallen on his head, he had been going through one misfortune after another. From what he had inferred from Misty's conversation with the other human, shellder was practically useless.
And now I have to teach him to be useful. Is there no end to my sorrows?
Deciding that there was no point in cursing his luck when he had a job to take care of, he glared at the shellder and barked, "Get over here."
Instead of squeaking in fear and following his orders as it rightfully should have, Shellder remained in its place, imitating a rock.
Misty sweatdropped. "Uhm, Shellder. Croconaw is trying to teach you something."
Shellder squeaked in answer, at which Misty turned to Red and gave him a triumphant smirk. Said trainer in question, didn't bother to reply, preferring to calmly watch. Not too far away, a certain deceiver pokémon was smiling gleefully, happy to see the cause of her woes be subject to Shellder's charms.
"Right," Misty cleared his voice and spoke up in her best teacher voice, "so Croconaw is going to teach you how to manipulate your body pressure. This will help you to use Water Gun, so it is essential that you listen carefully. Is that okay?"
Shellder squeaked again.
Misty looked positively enthralled. Personally, Croconaw felt she was a step away from enveloping the little thing with one of her overwhelming bear hugs. The affection was undeniable, and so was the feeling of suffocation that accompanied them.
"All right, Croconaw, show him." Misty egged her starter forward.
What's with you and pushing, woman? The water-type grumbled mentally, taking a step forward. Lifting Shellder with the air of a snorlax lifting a rattata, before putting it down right beside him on the ground. Then, he glared at the little shell pokémon and barked, "Watch carefully."
Shellder blinked but did not retort.
Croconaw gave the impudent thing an impassive stare. While shellder were perfectly capable of inner thoughts, their vocal glands were poorly developed, which was why the only sound they managed were shills and squeaks. By the time they evolved to cloyster though, they were perfectly capable of communication. From what he understood, this particular shellder had a high affinity to the psychic-type. So being able to mimic human speech through telepathy as a Cloyster should be within reason.
Shellder squeaked for a third time.
"Don't push me, twerp!" Croconaw warned as he closed his mouth, feeling his energy gather into his maw. He slowly compressed it as it began to take on the properties of the water element. Then, he slowly nodded towards Shellder before directing his jaws towards the forest and releasing a torrent of water.
"Now try to do the same."
Shellder squeaked, but contrary to his expectations, it closed its valves and shut itself in.
…
Confused, Croconaw knelt down and tried to peep into the eternal darkness that was Shellder's shell, wondering where the little brat was hiding. "Croco—"
SQUEAK!
Shellder almost roared out, as its eyes glowed in the darkness, before leaping at Croconaw's face, and clamping onto one of his ears. Croconaw grunted in irritation, doing his best to pull Shellder off, something that only seemed to make his ear burn more.
After what seemed like an eternal struggle, Shellder finally released its hold on Croconaw's ear, allowing the larger water-type to pull it off. Enraged at its shenanigans, he held the shell pokémon in front of his face and growled at it.
SLURRRRRP!
A long, crimson, slimy tongue shot out of the darkness and swept all across his face.
It felt absolutely disgusting.
For a long moment, Croconaw stood still, almost unbelieving of what had just happened. Then he threw Shellder off as he ran back into the tent, all the while screaming loudly.
"CROCAAAA!"
This was it.
Mawile slowly got up from her position and moved towards Shellder.
This was the answer.
Shellder, who had been the bane of her existence, who had competed for Red's affection for days, and who had stolen Red's attention on several occasions.
This would be her salvation.
This shellder would be the one to take her vengeance over this orange human. Yes, she could see it now. Shellder was her savior. With short but no less bold steps, she trotted along, crossing the distance between herself and her one-time nemesis, and slowly patted its shell with her tiny hands, muttering words she could have sworn she'd never use for the shell-pokémon. Even her eyes were moist and when she spoke and her words seemed to carry over her heart's true emotions.
"I'm proud of you."
Later that afternoon
"All right, lunch is ready. Come out, everyone." Red declared, placing a semi-large saucepan on the folding table and spreading two plates out beside it. "Hot steak ready to be served." He stretched his hands outwards, before stepping back. "Let's finish this quickly."
"Steak for the third time," Misty sniffed, "At this point, I'm not sure if you're that confident, or if you're actually looking forward to being robbed."
"I did tell you I have a plan, didn't I?"
"You did" Misty grinned. " And I'll be standing right here waiting to mock you when your overcomplicated plan comes crashing down like a house of cards."
"..."
Meanwhile, someone was observing this conversation closely. Having been in his presence for a considerable time period, his exuberance felt almost unnatural. Red was many things, but a natural liar he was not. Mawile was going to have to teach Red a thing or two about subtlety.
Red, was laying a trap, for the thief, and this was practically an open invitation. Mawile had seen him staring at those utensils over the last day, muttering something to himself. He had also given the impression that he had a plan in mind. Though, she had her own suspicions about the entire thing.
The strange high-pitched noise was detrimental to the senses, and even Mawile had wanted to rip off her own ears. She had encountered several pokémon in the past, but something with such a nature still evaded her. Back in Kalos, there were colonies of noibat— furry little things, but extremely irritable. They had large protrusions coming out of their heads that acted as sound amplifiers and could kill someone with their screams.
Mawile shuddered. She had been unfortunate to encounter a group of Noibat back on Pomace, and she'd never want to deal with those furry monsters. Thank you very much. But, the thief in question could not be a noibat. The buzzing, if she could call it that, was high-pitched, and wasn't accompanied by the loud cries. It seemed like her opponent was someone she had no knowledge about. From what she figured, neither did Red or the useless orange acquaintance of his.
Mawile glanced at the fire-type lazing on the ground. Seriously, if not for her prior experience with growlithe and their hyperactive personality, she'd have accused the entire species of being a bunch of lazy good-for-nothing layabouts.
Until earlier this morning.
If there was anything Mawile fully trusted about herself, it was her ability to charm her way through almost any situation, and judging others was a crucial element in that technique. Anyone else would have probably dismissed the growlithe as a lazy brat and ignored him, but not Mawile. Ever since he had come to his senses, the growlithe had never once attempted to leave or bothered to display any form of reaction towards its present situation. In fact, the growlithe hadn't even attacked Mawile out of anger for her previous actions, as she had expected.
Instead, he just sat there, observing.
The oddity of a fire-type observed Misty's mannerisms and her interaction with Red observed the other pokémon and their interactions as well. It observed how Mawile herself interacted with Red, but most importantly, his eyes never left Red, almost as if studying Red's every movement, trying to decipher something from them. Of course, Mawile was still a little confused at his answers the previous night, especially with the growlithe's lack of knowledge about the world.
I wonder if I bit in more than I can chew. Speaking of which, that growlithe is trying very hard, pretending he doesn't want to speak to me. Let's see what is it that he doesn't need me for.
Mawile rolled her eyes in amusement. Ever since morning, the puppy was observing Red's every movement, all the while trying to stay aloof. Speaking of which...
"Ah, finally." Misty walked out of the tent, with her Croconaw in tow. The bulky water-type moved slowly, unlike his hyperactive human companion, but there was nothing unnatural in that. Mawile wondered if Red had shared information about whatever he had planned to Misty because in case he did, it was bound to be a failure. One look at the orangette was enough to guarantee that.
Speaking of her trainer, she wondered why Red was being so… callous about the growlithe. Were growlithe so useless? Her trainer had been super-excited about Skarmory, but he seemed to be taking his sweet time with the growlithe. Perhaps they didn't evolve into something good enough? Or perhaps… he was simply feeling guilty over Mawile attacking it?
She scoffed. Human sensitivities were too complicated for her to comprehend. She liked things simple. And what she was interested in, was catching the thief. The smell of cooked steak was all over the place, so the thief must have noticed it. Now if only it would just happen quickly, then they could get to their meal in patience and—
A high-pitched buzz permeated the entire forest, just like the previous day.
Mawile gritted her teeth as she felt herself lose coordination, falling down to the ground in extreme discomfort. The growlithe mewled in irritation, burrowing his head beneath his paws.
There was a sudden movement of wind, followed with a tiny noise of something tearing, before the entire saucepan—the one that apparently had the steak—blew up in a cloud of translucent, white smoke, as the perpetrator of the wind movement lost its coordination and slammed into the nearest tree trunk. Almost instantly, Red threw what looked like a tiny canister towards the thief, who instantly slashed the incoming object.
That would go on to prove to be a mistake.
For the thief.
The canister exploded with the force of a small bomb, enveloping the thief in another cloud of the translucent gas. The thief began to cough and screech relentlessly as it tried to fight off the effects of the smoke—probably a bug-repel from what Mawile realized. That came with a second realization that the horrible buzzing had finally stopped. Without further preamble, Mawile ran off, raising her jaw, and leaped towards the thief, wanting to bite its head off. Obviously, she'd never get her stolen poképuffs back, but eating the one who ate them would probably grant her spiritual satisfaction.
Her jaw did not bite into flesh, as expected. Instead, it was met by razor-sharp steel. Her instincts screamed, and she jumped back from the livid creature, who was not only still somehow conscious but also lucid enough to screech out ferociously and shove its large fan-like claws outward.
Right! Mawile cursed mentally. We knew that this thing might be fast, but it seems Red did not prepare for that possibility. And of course, it's something big and scary. Like there was absolutely no way that it would be a tiny squashable bug.
"SCYTHRRRR!"
The fearsome snarl that accompanied the fast attack almost felt like an Astonish, or perhaps it was the creature's sheer intimidation. The pokémon shot up from its position, fangs bared, it's scythes ready to pierce into Mawile's skin and tear her to pieces.
Mawile almost closed her eyes.
Something large and powerful appeared in front of her, and Mawile opened her eyes to find Skarmory, her wings raised out like swords, ready to attack at a moment's notice. More importantly, she noticed the lack of attack on her own person. She peeped past Skarmory's larger bulk and found the thief— a scyther —fallen down on the ground, convulsing under the effects of the explosion.
"Ha!" Red exclaimed, "it worked!" He literally sprinted from his position and found himself standing on the other side of the now incapacitated bug pokémon. The scyther's face was twisted in pain, and it kept sneezing and screeching as the effects of the bug-spray sent its senses into a complete frenzy.
"A scyther?" Misty recognized in wonder. "It was a scyther?"
"Yeah, I had a hunch it might be one," Red explained, happy to bask in his little achievement. "The utensils I used the other day were slashed open, so I assumed it must be a bug capable of slashing things aside. Insane speed, and slashes, inside a bug-rich environment. It was very probable that it was a scyther."
"But what was inside that saucepan?"
Red grinned impishly. "A little of steak, and a lot of gravy— enough to give off a smell, but not enough to waste our lunch. And nestled inside, a repel can. When the scyther slashed it open, it exploded."
"And the second one?"
"The same," Red kept on his impish grin. "Bugs tend to have really strong olfactory senses. Repels overload them, and keep them away. It slashed that canister open, and it exploded all over its face. It won't be moving for quite a while now." He turned towards the fallen bug. "It's time we get some answers from this thief."
So, what do we do now?" Misty asked.
"We wait."
Team Rocket Training Quarters, Pewter City
It had been three weeks since Ritchie had found himself in a half-dead state, at the hands of his coach, or demon, as he had started calling him inside his mind. He had allowed himself to wallow in self-pity for two days before he forced himself to get himself up and start on a training regimen. After all, the message had been crystal clear—prove yourself to be a capable grunt within the month, or fail and be thrown out into the world, without any memory of the past month.
The same world in which he had ignored the direct orders of the Kanto Police force, and was a fugitive. And that was without the fact that he owed fifty thousand to this Butch person— and knowing Ritchie's luck, the man was probably high up in the Team Rocket hierarchy as well.
Train yourself to become a capable grunt within a limited time period, or die pathetically—. Needless to say, Ritchie had embraced the former option and begun to train himself ragged.
And today…
Today was judgment day.
My last chance…
Failure was not an option. Not for himself, nor for his team.
The demon stepped forward. "One single battle, one on one, between Examiner Eleven and Recruit 38. No items, no substitutions. "
"And Eleven," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Try not to kill the recruit's pokémon. Leaves a bad stain on the floor."
Everyone laughed at that.
Ritchie didn't think it was funny. Or that he was joking for that matter.
"Recruit 38, your examiner is going to arrive soon. You do not have to win. All your pokémon has to do is to remain standing. For two minutes. If you succeed, you are a grunt. If not, well, I'm told that someone in Team Rocket has some words for you."
Ritchie paled. How the hell did— what am I thinking? Of course, he'd know. Like— like seriously, this was a bad idea, a very bad—
And his mental rant paused just like that, as he felt someone step up in front of him.
What the—?
His opponent was a pretty girl, roughly seventeen years of age, with her red hair curled back into a ponytail, a cute smile on her face and a pokéball in her hand. This was probably one of the most striking examples of beauty he had ever seen. But Ritchie was staring at her for an entirely different reason. He recognized her.
Is that… Ariana?
Over his stay at the trainee quarters, Ritchie had picked on some of the more interesting names thrown around the place by the more experienced combatants. It was almost like a mirror world, where you strived to become an Admin, instead of a Champion. And Ariana— she was a shining star in the night sky.
A named genius of the battle circuit, Ariana Ortega had three League Championship Wins under her belt and was notorious at outthinking her opponents. Ritchie had even checked some of her official League battles, and goddamn was that woman scary. It was almost like fighting a clairvoyant battler, like Sabrina of Saffron City.
And this is the person I have to face? Why don't they just save themselves the trouble and just kill me now?
"Alright," Ariana spoke up in a brisk, no-nonsense tone. "Time to finish up this nonsense so that I can get back to business. Why someone like you," she glanced at the coach, "would even deign to do this, I'll never understand."
The coach, Ritchie noticed, did not bother to acknowledge her statement.
"...Whatever." Ariana flipped her ponytail to the right casually before lobbying her pokéball forward and releasing the beast within.
And yes, it was a beast.
At first glance, it appeared to be an enormous spheroid built of solid black rock, though covered with a layer of white. It was also floating above the ground, which lead Ritchie to believe it was psychic. The entire spheroidal thing twisted on itself, revealing its face, and it was a real face— with two sinister-looking blue eyes and a wicked grin peering out from behind the layer of white. To complete the image of horror, two protrusions on the top, giving the impression of horns. The entire thing was at least five feet in diameter, and giving him a malevolent stare.
"What is— what is that?"
Ariana scoffed.
"That," she paused, "is a glalie. You've probably never heard of it. Well, it is an ice-type. Now do you think you can choose a suitable pokémon or do you require more information?"
Ritchie swallowed. "...it's alright."
He clenched the pokéball in his hand, hoping against hope that he'd be able to do something— anything, to hold off that monster for two minutes.
Wait, it's an ice-type, so… but would type-advantage be enough?
Ritchie glanced at the ice-type again.
I don't need to win, just last for two minutes. In that case…
He quickly changed the pokéball in his hand with a different one, and threw it out into the air. "Charmeleon, I choose you!"
Butch arched an eyebrow. So, the little tyke evolved eh? Perhaps, this won't be over as soon as I thought.
The charmeleon landed upon the floor, its limbs powerful and turgid, and its claws easily puncturing through the rocky floor, as it stood and gazed up at the magnificent creature that was staring down at it, and let out a snort of flames.
"A charmeleon. Are you expecting to win because of a type advantage?" Ariana asked, tilting her head to the right."How cute."
Ritchie had the distinct feeling that he was a bug, and was being stared at hungrily, by a bird of prey. "Charmeleon, be careful. We do not know how it will attack, so tread with caution."
"Defensive, how pitiful. This isn't even a battle, this is paperwork." She stared at him in the eye. "Headbutt."
Before Ritchie could even register who it was she was addressing, the glalie shot straight at the charmeleon. Zippo did manage to leap backward but the glalie didn't stop. Instead, it kept shooting ahead, forcing the poor fire-type to crouch, leap and dodge its way backward— all the while nearing the perimeter of the field behind him.
"Zippo, use Metal Claw to block its next head-butt."
"Ice Shard," Ariana replied in a monotone.
A large shard of ice, shaped like a spearhead, materialized in front of the glalie's mouth, before it shot straight at the charmeleon, slamming into its shining claws. The sheer momentum was more than enough to force Zippo's arms out of the way. Without allowing Zippo to regain his bearings, the glalie stormed in and slammed into the fire-type, banishing it all the way to the wall.
"Congratulations," Ariana replied in a soft tone. If not for the slight twinge of her lips, her tone would have sounded almost sincere. "If this was a real fight, you guys would no longer be breathing. You do your family proud. Well as proud as someone can be of a petty criminal."
Ritchie gritted his teeth, but a spare glance at his pokémon told him that it was best to allow her to monologue. If nothing else, it would give Zippo some time to get up from the floor.
"One of the first rules of battling is to never defend in the opening stages." She spoke again, almost like she was trying to teach an unruly student. "You might as well just accept defeat."
"Fighting someone whose skills I'm not acquainted with, head-on, is stupid." Ritchie fired back. "Zippo, use flamethrower."
Ariana arched an eyebrow. The glalie in question, simply shifted to the right, dodging the attack before zooming straight at the charmeleon and slammed into its gut. Zippo coughed, as his flamethrower was cut off. The glalie, almost mockingly, floated right in front of it, before giving out a sadistic grin.
"Charmeleon, use Metal Claw."
"Again? Are you trying to test the limits of just how futile a move can be?" Ariana asked. "Dodge back. Ice Shard."
With effortless ease, the ice-type levitated backward and almost instantly shot back twin icicles of ice at the lizard, each of them aimed at either hand. The ice shards dug into Zippo's hide, spilling blood.
"You are trying to win, aren't you?" Ariana asked. "As soon as you go on to the defensive, you give your opponent an opening, and congratulations, you still don't know her moves. If you know you are stronger than them, defending gives them an opportunity they normally wouldn't have. If you are equal or weaker to them, then defending gives them the initiative, and the opportunity to end the battle in a single move. And even if you scope them out so what? It's entirely possible that your pokémon will be injured in the opening sequence and you cannot utilize your new information advantage. Learn how to gauge your opponents while attacking. Analyze their responses to your moves and understand—"
"Just shut up!" Ritchie glared. "Use flamethrower again."
Ariana chuckled, almost completely unoffended, as Glalie shifted again, dodging the flamethrower with amazing dexterity. Like each and every one of its previous attacks, it followed the dodge with a Headbutt, this time choosing to ram into the charmeleon's gut. It was almost like it was casually punishing the lizard whenever it made a stupid mistake.
Ritchie glanced at the clock. Sixty seconds left.
Keep talking. Waste time.
Fifty seconds.
Zippo was learning. He was spreading his attacks, and he was dodging.
I'm going to make it. He realized. I'm actually going to succeed.
"All right," Ariana clapped her hands, almost in exhilaration."And now, forty seconds to go." She turned towards the glalie. "End it."
Ritchie was floored. This girl… woman, knew he was trying to draw the match out? And she just let it happen? Just what the hell was she think—?
The glalie opened its maw for the first time, a massive silvery-white orb forming within. It shot forward, freezing the ground around Zippo. And his legs.
She is trying to get rid of his mobility.
"Zippo, use flamethrower," Ritchie dictated, shifting completely to offense. The ice on its lower part would not matter. He just needed to last twenty seconds. "Keep firing flamethrowers at the glalie."
The glalie in question seemed to ignore the torrents of flame shooting towards it and instead shot what seemed like a ball of light towards Zippo. Before Ritchie could even comprehend what was happening, the ball of light slammed into the charmeleon, almost fossilizing its body inside ice. The flames on his tail were now flickering dangerously low, trying to keep on burning, despite the ice trying to crush its spirits down.
"One of my personal inventions.," Ariana spoke again. " It entraps the opponent inside an ice crystal. It essentially works like an ice beam with one key divergence. It feeds on the opponent's body temperature. Chances of survival plummet with every passing second, especially for a fire type so… tick tock!"
"What?" Ritchie yelled, "but then my Zippo will die. Let me get him out of there."
"Sure." Ariana shrugged. "Forfeit the match, and I'll let it free. Or else, keep hanging for the next..." She checked her watch, "thirteen seconds. Thirteen, such an interesting number. Oh, it's twelve now."
Zippo screamed in defiance, rage and hysteria inside the ice crystal, trying to push its way out to no avail. Its tail flame could be seen flickering even more dangerously, as the lack of oxygen started to affect its brain.
Ten seconds.
Ritchie opened his mouth, his heart screaming at him to yell out, and forfeit, to ask Ariana to let his Zippo go, to beg her, if that be necessary. After all, nothing else mattered as long as Zippo's life was spared. Right?
Nothing was more important to him than his team, and it was a rule that he had always had, and would continue to abide by in the future. His mouth opened, determined to end the fight. Zippo was suffering and that was enough.
But no words came out.
Instead, he heard something incredibly selfish speak to him in his own voice.
Yell out and forfeit? And what comes next? You'll be thrown out of Team Rocket, and then you will be killed. Each and every one of your team will be killed.
His mouth slowly shut, even as his fists remained clenched. He cast a single glance at his beloved Zippo, who was trying to scream its lungs out, screaming for oxygen, for the ice crystal to shatter, for his life, for his trainer who was standing next to him and yet, doing nothing to save him.
Ritchie felt his eyes tear up, and turned his head to look—
"Don't you dare look away. This is your pokémon and your support. This is what fought for you, and something that is now fighting for its last breath because of a decision you made. If you have decided to let it suffer, then look at it in the eye, and watch it suffer because of your own decision to not give up." Ariana yelled. For the first time, she looked almost angry. As though she had been in a similar situation once.
Eight more seconds.
"I…" Ritchie tried to speak, but words failed him. It hurt, and for a moment, it felt like killing himself would be more desirable than to stand like— like an emotionless, heartless statue, sentencing his Zippo to a gruesome death so that he could survive. For one moment he could see Mickey standing in front of him.
"A word of advice kid. Throw away those pokémon of yours, and start afresh. This ain't worth it."
It had sounded so condescending back then, but he had pestered the man, and thrown in a better deal. It had felt surprisingly good, having the ability to choose his future. Now, it felt like he had just chosen one poison over another. He remembered his own naivety when Mickey had told him about the prospects of joining Team Rocket.
"They are criminals…"
"So are you…"
It had hurt back then, to hear those harsh truths. But it had been out of desperation, since he knew that he had been right, and the other person was to blame. But now…
Five seconds.
Ritchie opened his mouth. "Survive," He said, his heart almost breaking with his next words "If you lose here, everyone will die. I can't give up. Just... survive, and everything will be fine."
A few yards away, Butch smirked.
Three.
Two.
The charmeleon gave out one last breath, its limbs now pale and bluish, inactive and unresponsive…
One.
The lizard did not move, though a tiny flame continued to flicker at the end of its tail.
"That will be enough!" Ariana commanded.
The glalie's grin widened for a second before the crystal surrounding the charmander shattered. Zippo dropped down to the ground, its body bluish, and mind comatose. The only shred of hope he had was the tiny flame flickering at the end of its tail.
"You pass," Ariana spoke at last, "and you made a good decision. Your team is important, but your life and Team Rocket holds greater priority. As long as you keep that in mind, you'll progress."
"My Zippo…" Ritchie breathed, a lone tear escaping his left eye.
"Is comatose. Might even end up dead." Ariana spoke with indifference, before turning towards the coach, who was staring at Ritchie with a strange gleam in his eyes. "I presume he can be given one of the spare graveler then?"
"No. I have something else in mind for him".
Ariana nodded before turning back towards Ritchie. "Your pokémon can always be substituted, but your life, and above all, your association with Team Rocket supersedes everything. Remember, pokémon exist solely for the use of humanity. You can care for them. Teach them. But they should never supersede your loyalty. Not to Team Rocket and certainly not to your own life."
Having said her piece, she turned around and walked away, leaving a tormented and traumatic Ritchie behind. A moment later the coach followed her.
Neither of them looked back.
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