Misty, Misty, Misty.
The park lay at the end of the eastward street. Rhododendron bushes stood tall and thick like a fence around it. As my feet finally touched the soft grass, I felt how tense and sore my thigh muscles were. Couples sat on benches scattered across the grass, either kissing or drinking coffee. Moss and weeds stretched up the bench legs. The park was bathed in sunlight. Pokémon and trainers rested on the grass or engaged in friendly battles against each other. It was a magnificent sight.
But why was everyone drinking coffee? It was actually a bit eerie how many were sipping on cups of coffee. And too many signs—if you ask me—in front of cafés boasted about their signature coffee beans. Some dark-roasted, others light-roasted. It was off-putting. But I had to focus.
Misty, Misty, Misty. She was the one on my mind.
I released Eevee from his Poké Ball. He sprang out with a sharp screech, now reaching my knees. His fur was blossoming like never before, and though I was uncertain, it looked as if some strands were turning black, as black as night. I knelt and ran my fingers over his back. He leaned into it and purred, as though he was receiving a massage. Eevee nuzzled against my hand, his damp and warm nose tickling my skin. In his dark eyes, there glittered silver, like far-drifting stars; and in them, I saw devotion. I felt a sudden rush; as though I was being transported—not my body, but my mind and emotions. This was how we built kinship.
I released Growlithe from his Poké Ball, and he sprang out with a confident growl. His fiery coat glimmered, and he began to nibble at the grass before abruptly stopping, the taste clearly not to his liking. Growlithe and Eevee playfully bounded around, wagging their tails and soaking in the sunlight's radiant energy.
As they raced towards each other, their hind legs braced against the ground. Their front paws collided with a thud, and they tumbled in a flurry of playful nips and gentle bites. There was no hate, loathing, spite, or rivalry in their eyes. As Growlithe leapt back, I noticed a small, curled-up note strung to his front leg.
"Growlithe," I said, bending over. "Come here, boy."
I pulled the string, unrolled the note, and began to read. The handwriting was neat, a woman's script, Nurse Joy's. She warned me about a group called Team Rocket, but didn't provide any details on why. Only that Jesse and James led a faction, whatever that meant.
After several warnings, I reached the truly unsettling part. Nurse Joy couldn't be sure, she wrote, but if Misty had suddenly disappeared, it was likely Team Rocket who had taken her. The note offered no explanation as to why.
I folded the note, called Growlithe again, and asked him to burn it with an Ember. Nurse Joy had risked much to warn me. I couldn't leave the note lying around. It was now clear to me. This town wasn't an ordinary place with people who smiled and worked—it was a ghost town. Filled with people who didn't see—didn't see what was really going on.
I went back to the hotel room. There, we waited until evening and the arrival of moonlight. I had a plan. First, I would sneak down to the reception with Eevee. Then, I'd steal the key from behind the desk. Run upstairs. Open Misty's door, and finally, tear open the door to the room next door.
That was my plan. Though I didn't plan for what came next. A snigger Haunter came floating through the locked door, its eyes gleaming with purple sickness.
Eevee sprang into action. I recalled Growlithe in case I needed him for later.
Haunter floated near the door, its hands twisting and turning unnaturally. A storm of shadow and ice swept through me, the Pokémon had come to stop us. How did it know? Was it spying on us? Damn, that means Nurse Joy might be in trouble. The temperature dropped as Haunter's ghostly energy spread like an invisible disease.
"Eevee, I need you!" I called out, my voice shaking. "Use Quick-Attack!"
Eevee leapt forward with a determined yelp. Though he was ferocious, each attack passed through Haunter, who laughed with eerie delight, as if Eevee tickled it. It unleashed a Shadow Ball, and though it missed Eevee's fluffy tail, the impact left him sprawling on the ground.
"Fuck!" I cried, yanking the nearest chair and throwing it. All four legs broke as it crashed in the wall behind it, leaving a crater in the wallpaper.
Eevee struggled to stand, heaving for breath. Yet another purple and black Shadow Ball formed before Haunter's despicable eyes. He grinned joyously as it grew. The ghost aimed.
"Use Bite!" I commanded in desperation.
Eevee lunged, but Haunter slipped away through the bathroom door–though his Shadow Ball dissolved. Then, with a dark grin, Haunter reappeared and unleashed a Lick attack. The black, ghostly saliva slithered over Eevee like hundreds of baby-snakes. Eevee collapsed, paralyzed and shivering as the poison rummaged through his blood.
"No! Please. Fuck! Eevee, don't die!" I shouted. "Please. I need you! You're my Pokémon"
But then, a soft light enveloped Eevee's body, growing brighter until it filled the room. Haunter recoiled, its grin fading as Eevee began to evolve. The moon-like light evaporated, leaving a dark and lean Umbreon in its place. His black fur and glimmering yellow rings glowed with such beauty; it was as though my eyes couldn't truly comprehend the beauty. When he grinned, his teeth glinted dark and menacing.
Umbreon faced Haunter without fear now. Another Shadow Ball was launched, but it fizzled harmlessly against Umbreon's dark fur, as a blunt blade against a unwavering shield. Umbreon was now immune to all ghost moves.
"Bloody amazing, Umbreon. Now, use Faint Attack!" I commanded.
Umbreon vanished into a portal of shadow and darkness, reappearing behind Haunter, biting his ice-sharp fangs into Haunter's ghostly hide. Haunter cried, wriggled in pain, and it was as though it couldn't flee. Umbreon's darkening bites, which where violent and sinister in their own way, somehow made the ghost materialize. Umbreon struck again, relentless.
"Finish it, Umbreon! Use Dark Pulse! Send him into the abyss."
Umbreon's eyes changed; the shade of a winter night gleamed from within as he summoned a wave of dark energy from his mouth. The vortex of darkness and dread engulfed Haunter, its wicked form dissolving into nothingness with a useless, haunting cry.
"That was fucking brilliant!" I shouted. Umbreon leapt on to me, nuzzling its black nose against my cheeks. I ruffled his hide and held him tight.
We had to press on.
Umbreon and I crept into the hallway, found the doors, and walked in silence downstairs. It suddenly dawned on me: The hotel felt empty, as if we were the only ones here, and that realization was unnerving. The reception desk loomed ahead; the receptionist stood hunched over, scribbling in a book. Behind her, the master key hung unused on a nail. There it is, I thought. Misty, I'm coming.
"Umbreon, use Nasty Plot," I whispered. His eyes glinted with dark mischief. A ominous energy, like mist from the underworld, swirled around him—it was as though the energy vaporized from his fur. What are you planning? And what is this dark energy? It made me shiver.
A soft clink echoed through the lobby as a vase near the front doors wobbled back and forth. To my utter shock, I saw Umbreon pushing it with his snout. Somehow, he had created a portal. The vase toppled over, shattering on the floor. Before anyone noticed, Umbreon slipped back into the shadows and reappeared by my side.
The noise was enough to rouse the hunched receptionist, who jumped up in alarm and rushed to the doors, muttering curses under her breath.
"Keep a watchful eye," I whispered. "This is my shot."
I dashed behind the counter, my heart drumming against my chest, and snatched the master key from its nail. I pocketed it with trembling fingers; never had I done such a thrilling feat before.
Umbreon stayed hidden in the shadows, his eyes on me, ready for the next move. Suddenly, the distinct ringing of shoes against marble tiles sounded. My heart stopped. Sweat poured down my forehead. Fuck! I yelled in my mind. She's heading back. If I move, she'll spot me.
It felt as though the wood panels were closing in on me. I backed toward the wall slowly, sliding on my butt until I reached the hatch, then I signaled to Umbreon. He slipped into darkness yet again. Is he leaving me? I thought, but just then, a dark, misty mass appeared next to me. Umbreon's black head and red eyes stuck out. I crawled through the portal just before the receptionist rounded the corner.
This was not the time to stop for a breather—I had the key, though my hands were shaking and my feet felt oddly numb and cold. Not now, I told myself. We have to move!
Misty. Misty. Misty.
I released Growlithe before opening the second door in Misty's room. Both Pokémon now reached my hip, and their gazes were shrouded in seriousness. I inserted the key into the keyhole, turned it, and pushed the door open with one hand. I don't know what I had expected, but not this; the room was like any other hotel room. At the end by the windows, a made bed stood, waiting for guests. I ran my fingers over the white, soft sheet. It was cold, and the scent of soap wafted into my nose. No one had stayed here recently, that much was obvious. Umbreon trotted around, and Growlithe sniffed along the baseboards.
Suddenly, Growlithe began to growl. He had frozen in place like an arrow pointing at the chair beneath the desk.
"What is it, boy? Do you see something?" I asked. Umbreon soon came trotting over, hissing in his cat-like way.
"What do you see?" I asked, confused, throwing my arms up.
They sniffed wildly, almost demonstratively, under the chair.
"Does it smell like something?" I asked, pulling the chair away. Growlithe, with white smoke billowing from his jaws, cautiously approached the wall behind it.
There was a hatch, almost like a window hatch—the hinges creaked low and eerily as Growlithe bumped his nose against them. Then there was silence again. The hatch stopped swaying. The strange cries of the hinges faded away, but the unease within me grew. The Pokémon stared at me.
"Umbreon," I began. "You are the sparrow of the dark. Go first, then I'll follow, and Growlithe will come last. If there's anything in there trying to get us… kill it." Growlithe clicked his fangs together. Umbreon lowered his gaze and went in.
We crawled through the pitch-black tunnel for what felt like hours, my heart pounding like an old clock. The narrow passage seemed endless, pebbles dug into me palms and knees.
At last, a flickering glint of light beckoned us forward. We emerged into a dimly lit cavern, torches aflame along rough cave walls. The rough and eerie light cast long, trembling shadows that swung along rusty bars.
"It looks like prison cells," I gasped.
All I saw was empty cells, only occupied by chains dangling from hooks in the ceiling. Each step I took sent echoes, like waves crashing against overshadowing cliffs, through the cave. It felt as though my heart jumped and was lodged in my throat.
As we pushed deeper into the cavern, Zubats swooped down from the shadows, their screeches piercing the silence. It sickened me to my core.
"Umbreon, Dark Void!" I commanded.
Umbreon closed his eyes; red and black threads of darkness spurred up from his hide, reaping havoc to any Zubat it reached. Suddenly they came crashing down in heaps, like blue hail. All fast asleep.
Those who wasn't killed by the impact, soon felt Growlithe's fiery Ember underneath their skin, as the canine rummaged through the cave, killing all who twitched.
I scanned each cell urgently. There, huddled in one of the cages, was Misty. Her face was pale and smeared with grime, streaks of dried blood marring her cheeks. The suspenders where ripped to shrivels, her yellow tank top in tatters. She was pale and scratched and naked underneath.
Her eyes flickered as they met mine. She was badly bruised, her legs full of gashes,and with a pain-stricken face, she wobbled to her feet.
"You?" she said, the remnant of her top dangled to the sides, exposing her bare breasts. "Is it really you, Ash? Or am I dreaming again?"
"Misty!" I called, as I approached the cage.
"You don't speak in my dreams; this must be real," she said, coughing.
"It is. How can I get you out?"
"The keys–they are on top of the crate–just there," she pointed, her gaze falling to her shriveled clothes, though she looked too exhausted to care.