Chapter Seven: Johto Province

Alakazam, who Brellia now called Al, had built them a bubble; he said it would be safe for at least one night; The illusion will hold. Those fleeing The Gnarl Estate have diluted the worth of any tracks in the area. Sage still didn't like it. He liked it even less with these two strangers sharing their fire.

First and worst was the old man. He stank. He was dirty. He slurred his words and swayed as he sat. After staring at the glass bottles he emptied into himself, he, Oak, Professor Oak, offered some to Sage. The liquid inside smelt like paint and tasted like poison. Brellia laughed when Sage spat it out. Alakazam, or rather, Al, now, smiled along. His mentor and his guardian, the two traitors, were for some reason besotted with this diseased nightmare. Sage supposed confidence could get you anything in this world. Especially when compared to a boy who knew nothing of this world.

Then there was Crimson. After Oak was done crying at Al's feet, Crimson had strode over, smiled at Sage, taken his hand, crushed it, shaken it, and said "Nice to meet you."

What did that even mean? Nice to meet you. None of this was nice. They were hiding in a forest, hunted by killer monsters, forced to do whatever the magic liar, the indifferent brute and the crazy old man wanted.

Crimson was taller, more muscular, and louder than Sage. His hands were rough with callouses; his clothes were stained and beaten; his eyes were old, and unnervingly calm; he just sat there, too far from the fire to feel it, not panicking. Sage tried to reach into his mind, but there were tunnels within that lead to nowhere. Crimson's head was filled with pitfalls, whirlpools, like small cerebral boobytraps.

Sage noticed Alakazam shaking his head, telling him to leave the young man alone. But this only egged Sage on. Still, all he found were nameless, formless, nauseating decoys. It was like Crimson had ghosts haunting his psyche.

And why not? Maybe ghosts existed too; maybe just like wizards and dragons, ghosts were just Pokemon.

If so… how did they get into Crimson's head, and why were they still there? Who was this boy with a head full of ghosts and the hands of a soldier? Why did he think it was nice to meet Sage? He must be hiding something.

Glancing at Oak, who was opening his third bottle, Sage considered trying to enter his mind. But, before he could decide he saw Crimson walking over.

The tall, haunted boy, crashed down next to Sage.

"Hey," he said. "So where'd you meet those two?"

Sage watched Crimson's bright green eyes flash towards Al and Brellia. He waited. They both waited, Sage was supposed to say something, but he didn't know where to begin.

"Are you okay?" asked Crimson. "It's cool, I've been freaking out for pretty much two days straight now."

Sage stifled a smile. "You don't look like you're freaking out."

"I've learnt to smile and nod while big Pokemon are present." Flashing another glance at Brellia, Crimson took an anxious breath. "And that's probably the biggest Pokemon I've ever seen."

Sage sighed, "Brellia used to be nice. She made my clothes and taught me how to cook. She used to tell stories about the mountains."

"I've never seen a mountain," replied Crimson.

"Me neither," said Sage. "Until yesterday all I'd ever seen was inside a tower, outside a window, or on the pages of a book."

Crimson's face drew back, unrestrained concern twisting his expression. "They kept you in a tower?"

"They told me they were protecting me." Sage picked a stick from off the ground and started scratching at the dirt. "Turns out Alakazam… or Al," he scoffed, "was just protecting himself."

"Right…" replied Crimson, his cool melting away. Anxiously picking at his thumb with his finger, he asked, "And he, Alakazam, he had to run away?"

"They found us," said Sage, defeatedly. "The government found us."

Crimson nodded somberly. "Government found us too. Cecille Freys."

"Who?"

"Exactly."

Sage rolled his eyes, "No, really. Who?"

Crimson looked at Sage with an open, sardonic vulnerability, seeming to mock himself. "No, really. Exactly." Picking up his own stick, he started scratching along. "I have no idea. Some Meowth who used words like… I dunno…" Crimson stared at the dirt and squinted. "Like when you're picking weeds, and you use gloves, not because you can't pick the weeds without the gloves, but because you'd rather not scratch up your hands." A small, sad chuckle escaped Crimson's lips. He looked back at Sage, leaning a little closer. "He made me feel like he thought it was a courtesy… to explain why everything was changing, why he was taking over, and might arrest or kill whoever he thought he should. He was doing us a favour. We should be grateful for being told. We didn't need to be told. We were just weeds. And he put on the gloves…"

"So you wouldn't scratch him. Because if you did, he might do something worse than pull you out." Sage fled their eye contact, now ashamed he had tried to read Crimson's mind. "I think I understand what you're trying to say. But I don't think weeds are the right analogy." He was surprised, saddened and softly comforted to find they understood each other. Sage felt less alone, more incompetent, and overwhelmingly helpless. "You don't need to make sure weeds know their place. That's how you treat a pet."

Crimson put a hand on Sage's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Pet… We're their pets now. My dad used to say that to me. I was never really sure what he meant."

Sage looked over; "You haven't read What It Means To Be A Pet?"

Crimson shook his head. "They didn't teach it at our school." He leant in closer, glancing at the older trio busy in quiet discussion. "What is it about?"

"I thought it was about friendship. Now I realise it was about me. And how I can never be friends with the things that made me read it."

"You are being completely ridiculous!" shouted Oak, throwing an empty bottle against a nearby tree.

The raised voice teased their interest, but the smashed glass grabbed their attention.

"I am deeply flattered by your confidence in my illusion, but I would still request you do not test the limits of its efficacy." Alakazam stared the old man down, not relaxing his expression until Oak visibly relented.

The two young men quietly inched closer to the others.

"I appreciate how statistically we are more likely to find them in a densely populated area, but as I have said, several times, they would surely have been caught by now." Alakazam gently gestured with a spoon; another branch floated onto the fire. "If they are hiding well, they must be hiding where it is easy to hide well."

"It's quite often easier to hide where people are too arrogant to go looking," replied Oak, obstinate.

Brellia piped up, dropping the red weave she was working on. "Have you, human, travelled to a Kanto city in these past fifteen years? Have you seen them? Cerulean is a monument to the High Chancellor's victory. Vermillion is a prison. Celadon a circus. Fuchsia… perhaps for sake of name alone is where the regent resides. There is no place in this fair land that is not whipped to marching pace." The Charizard snarled. "Trust me, Professor Oak, I have seen it."

Oak sighed heavily and hungrily, bearing a weight he seemed to claim as much as he felt cursed with. "I have seen things too, Brellia." The old man scoffed, "Johto Province… you have no idea of what's in Johto Province."

Sage found some courage afterall; "Johto is not far from here," he said. "I've read, at least."

"Three days flight at most," Brellia replied.

"But you haven't been there recently?" asked Sage.

The Dragon huffed, "No."

"What happened to Johto," Sage asked the old man.

Oak shook his head and smiled a slick, savage smile. "When the war started, it started in Kanto. You know what Kanto is?"

Sage sneered, "I can read maps."

"Old maps," snapped Oak. "Kanto panicked. Some cities fought, some surrendered… most who fought only fought for as long as it took them to realise they couldn't win. Only Viridian and Cinnabar fought to the last. And only Viridian wasn't rebuilt after. But Johto…" Oak took a desperate swig. "Johto knew they were coming. Johto mobilised a united front. A lot of people like to believe that some of the resistance leaders from Kanto fled over, helped them set it up. They're right. They can believe that and feel proud. And be right. But it didn't matter. Johto was raised to the ground, my boy. They fought to the bitter end. Good for them. And nearly everybody died, good for nothing" Putting the bottle to his lips but pulling away before drinking, Oak's breath shook somewhere between laughter and tears. "Do you know why Hoenn surrendered, why the entire region unanimously and immediately surrendered? Have you heard of Hoenn? Sure you have; you've read the maps. They surrendered because they watched as the High Chancellor showed the world what happened when you didn't. They made an example out of Johto. They taught a grim, bloody lesson, from a cruel, callous curriculum, and they didn't need to repeat themselves." Oak tried to stand up but couldn't. Still, he continued; "There are so many mass graves in Johto Province you can't grow crops there even if you tried. The place is a poisoned boneyard; it's a pockmarked, scar covered patient, kept alive by a pitiless surgeon showing off their butchery; its the abandoned floor of a slaughterhouse, doused in gasoline, set on fire and then salted for good measure. Salted…to preserve its ruin forever… just in case someone wants a taste… to see how the sausage was really made. There's nothing in Johto province except power plants, mines, factories and chemical plants. What people live there live short, hard lives on corrupted, cancerous lands." Stamping the ground with his bottle, Oak spat into the fire. "But sure, they're hiding in that pile of ash, scrounging off dead trees and polluted dirt. You know, not all of us can fly or teleport. We don't all have scales or telekinesis. Humans are soft, needy creatures, barely able to survive persistent rainfall. There is no way. Listen to me. No way, they are hiding in that toxic wasteland."

A proud and sadistic silence enveloped the camp. Oak was drunk, obnoxious and cruel, but his words fell too heavy, and left too much of an absence, to be false. Thus the wretched wreck of Johto, and the High Chancellor's wrongs, wrapped themselves around their skin. Silently. Sickeningly. Unapologetic and self satisfied.

Eventually Sage squeaked out the words - "How do you know?"

"I was there…" Oak replied, exhausted. "I watched it happen."

"You fought in Johto?"

With heavy eyes and curling lips, Oak shifted his sin stained teeth. Staring at Sage and little more than mumbling, he responded. "In a manner of speaking."

Crimson stood, visibly angry. "What did you do during the war? You were in Kanto, then you were in Johto, you fought but you didn't really; you shit on everyone who refused to surrender, you claim you were a professor, but now you're this broken mess?! What did you do?"

Alakazam raised a single spoon and Crimson was forced back down. "Do not question or judge the actions of someone who lived through horror you cannot imagine."

Sage felt his eyes widen beyond intent, flashing from Alakazam to Crimson and back. Here it was; they were being treated like pets, and there was nothing they could do. Sage reached out and put an arm around Crimson. "Let it lie," he urged, with a self-loathing instinct.

Crimson looked back at him, battling his own instincts, but surrendering to self-loathing in the end. The pair shared a moment of impotent rage and deep solidarity, before standing up and walking away.

Looking back, Sage saw that Oak, true to course, had passed out. Brellia, seemingly determined to remain as close to neutral as possible, returned to her weaving. And Al, the wizard, the liar, last Alakazam and physical restrainer of humans, was staring at the fire.

Sage felt the anger boiling up inside him, He turned to Crimson and asked, with priestlike confidence, "Are you okay? Would you like to sleep?"

Crimson hesitated, a little confused. "I am… Yeah I think so. I'd love to sleep. But I don't think I'll be able to get any now."

"I can put you to sleep, if you want." Sage tried to smile at him without seeming creepy. "I'll explain another time. But if you want to-"

"Knock me the fuck out." Crimson smiled and sat down. "It's not drugs is it, or like, you're not going to hit me with a rock?"

Sage smiled back and sat next to him. "No. Just close your eyes."

Crimson closed his eyes. Concentrating, controlling his breathing, and summoning a peace pulled from concept, he placed a hand on Crimson's forehead. Within seconds the young man was fast asleep.

Sage looked down at him and smiled. Crimson was not at all what he had assumed, and being able to give him some respite made him feel… happy he supposed, but more than that, warm inside, useful, belonging. Sage watched Crimson sleep for just a moment, smiling all the while, before pulling himself away.

It was good to have a friend. He liked Crimson a lot. But then again, he had never had a human friend before, so he didn't know if the amount of affection he felt was greater or lesser than the expected amount.

That wasn't important right now.

Sage strode over to Alakazam, the last Alakazam, now known as Al, and planted himself down next to him.

Sage stared a moment before saying the only thing he really wanted to say. "You lied to me."

Alakazam did not look away from the fire. "I did."

"Don't lie to me again."

"I will try not to."

Sage squirmed with frustration. "You have to do better than that."

"None of us can do better than trying. There is no do or do not. There is only try."

Sage sighed, stopping a moment. He slowly reached, with an open hand, towards the fire. Clenching his fist with great intention, Sage watched as the fire dimmed to a mere flicker. He was more powerful than he realised. "Do you want me to leave, Alakazam? Because you don't have to look after me. I don't have to follow you. I can leave."

Alakazam watched his pupil, a small smile creeping across his face. But pride was soon squashed by solemnity. "I do not want you to leave, Sage."

Sage opened his hand with a snap, the fire instantaneously raging. "Then do not lie to me. Do not exclude me from decisions. And do not, ever, use your powers against me or my friends."

Alakazam nodded somberly. "You have changed much in the last twenty-four hours."

Sage sighed, "The whole world has changed in the last twenty-four hours." Rubbing his brow and standing up, Sage stepped away. He needed to sleep, but before he could, he had one last thing to say. "I think we should go to Johto Province, but I think we should find someone who grew up there first, a guide. A guide who is not Professor Oak."

"You said something about statistical likelihood and densely populated areas. There has to be a city near here with someone who wants to go home. Someone willing to help."

"And why would they want to help us?"

Sage smirked. "You're the last Alakazam, that has to count for something."