I hauled Misty back through the suffocating darkness of the tunnel. Her weight didn't help with the pebble problem. Umbreon led on, the dark cat looking like a living shadow, almost soaring through the gloom.
"Move on," I urged, my voice a harsh whisper. "The pebbles are digging into my palms and knees. The pain is crippling."
"We can stop," Misty suggested, dangling from my shoulder like a wet towel.
"No," I answered, looking back into the abyss of dread and despair. "We need to get the hell out of this wretched city. And then you're going to tell me what the fuck is going on."
She nodded. Together, we pressed on.
Emerging from the tunnel, I helped Misty to her feet. She wobbled for a while, and I ushered her to take a breather on the bed. She collapsed in a heap of white fabric and gray dust, her fixed, unblinking eyes on me.
"Have you not stared for long enough?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I—I," I began, not knowing what to say. I looked away.
"I get it," she said, sitting up. "My tits are great, I know, but we have a more pressing issue at hand. How do we get out? And where can we get clothes?"
"I'm sorry," I murmured.
"Don't be," she said, not shrouding them. "I don't mind. It's just—a time and a place. You know."
I nodded.
"There's only one receptionist. She's the only one I've seen in the hotel," I said after a short while.
"It's not a hotel. It's a fucking prison. Team Rocket owns it; Giovanni sits on the throne."
"Who?"
She shook her head. "Later," she added. "Now we need to sneak out."
"Not a problem. Umbreon will fix that."
"How?" she said, her head tilted abruptly, as though it was the first time seeing the Pokémon.
"We'll show you."
The receptionist sat hunched over her desk, oblivious to our arrival. A broom and board leaned against the doorframe. She had swept up the debris and dirt from the vase.
"Is that your work?" asked Misty, nodding at the broom.
"Yes," I whispered back, turned to Umbreon, and said, "Umbreon, now! Use Dark Void."
Umbreon's eyes flared with blood-red zeal. He jumped into the open, revealing his true, dark form. The receptionist squealed and reached for her Poké Balls, but it was too late: an ominous thread of shadow—coiled with crimson bolts of thunder—burst out, wrapping her in slumber. Her head bashed the desk with a dull thud, her body crumpling to the floor.
"Brilliant!" shouted Misty, awestruck. It looked to me as though the scene energized her.
"Go!" I commanded.
We darted out of the hotel and into the icy night. The streets lay deserted, bathed in dull lamplight; it was eerie and made my skin crawl.
Misty quickly released her Poliwhirl.
"Smash it," she said, pointing at a store window. The water fighter didn't hesitate. He smashed through it with a grunt, sending glass shards cascading to the ground, which glimmered like fading stars on a winter-cold night.
"Grab whatever you can," Misty barked, her eyes wild as she jumped through.
I dove in after her. It was the female section. There was a raincoat on a mannequin. I almost tackled it to the ground trying to undress it. Then I tossed it to Misty, who had changed into a yellow crop top and denim shorts.
"What?" she said, shrugging. "I like yellow and blue, sue me."
I burst out laughing. "Throw the raincoat over your shoulders, at least, to shroud you from the light."
She nodded. Just then, the shrieking burglar alarm cut through the night, its wailing screech cutting deep into my stomach. It sounded worse than a Fearow momma.
"We're fucked if we don't move," I muttered, the alarm almost muffling my voice.
"Let's fucking go then," said Misty.
We sprinted into the nearest alley, shadows swallowing us whole. Crouching behind a stack of debris, breathing as though we had just emerged from a long dive, we watched as the guards swarmed the streets. Ghastly and other ghost-types hovered about.
Suddenly, out from a crossroads, I saw two figures, Jesse and James. A small, cat-like Pokémon walked beside them on his hind legs. They bellowed orders from afar. I couldn't hear what they were saying, although from their narrowing brows and piercing gazes, I assumed it wasn't about cookies and cakes.
"Shit, this place is crawling with them," Misty whispered as she adjusted her stolen clothes. "How come the ghost Pokémon don't see us?"
"Umbreon is shrouding us," I answered. From his hide, there soared a mist of darkness and despair. A mist not even the dead could pierce.
"What do we do now?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, as a group of guards, flanked by Machop and Machamps, passed us in the street up ahead.
"Fuck if I know," Misty said after they were gone. Her expression changed. "Damn, of course. We'll wait here until morning and slip out during the day."
"Are you crazy? The streets will bustle with people, crowds upon crowds in sunlight."
"Exactly."
"They'll see us," I snorted.
"They'll see crowds upon crowds of people. No way they'll spot us," Misty retorted. "We do this all the time."
"We?" I asked.
"The League of Shadows," she replied warily, as though the words were haunted. "That's who I'm with, and that's why Jesse and James are after me."
"So…"
"I'll explain when we're so far north we can't see these wretched gates."
As dawn approached, the shadows, and the guards, began to recede. I blinked the slumber out of my eyes and found Misty watching the streets. The trepidation of night wafted away as the smell of freshly baked bread whiffed through the cold morning streets, mingling with busying footsteps.
Umbreon prowled at the edge of our small, concealed hideout, his dark aura fading as there were no ghost-types in sight.
Misty crawled over to me. "You should recall Umbreon," she whispered in my ear, her breath tingling my earlobe. "He's quite rare, and we must be cloaked by everything that's ordinary."
I nodded and recalled him. She hugged me tightly, then said, "You ready?"
"I am. What's the plan?"
"Stand up, take my hand, and follow my lead," she said, and I abided.
We stepped out into the city, the bustling crowd dashing this way and that. It was difficult to make out any specific noise, except for Misty's growling stomach, which I totally understood; she hadn't eaten in days, and her bruises had barely begun to heal. People hurried past, oblivious to the fugitive pair posturing as lovebirds, slipping through their coffee-soaked midst. Here and there, guards gazed about with watchful eyes, never glancing upon us twice. It was, as Misty had pointed out, the perfect camouflage.
"There," Misty said, nodding her head. "The northern gates. They are wide open. Let's go."
I slowed our pace. "Misty, it can't be that easy. This feels like a trap."
"Only one way to find out," she answered, pushing me forward.
"Here goes nothing."
"I can't believe it worked," I muttered as we caught our breaths on the trail leading north. The sun was climbing high, bathing the walls of Viridian in lush beauty. A stark contrast to the evil within. I could not help but smile when fields of green, drizzled with sunflower and clover, glittered in our rearview mirrors.
We trudged onward, following a babbling brook, until a ford appeared. Even though they weren't slippery, Misty stumbled and fell, scratching up her newly acquired clothes.
"You okay?" I asked, offering a hand.
"Fuck. Yeah, I think so. Just tired. And hungry," she muttered, wobbling to her feet. "Thankfully I didn't pay for these," she continued, brushing dirt off. Her eyes held mists of night that no daylight could dispel.
"Isn't it weird?" I whispered warily.
"What?" Misty asked.
"The silence."
A sudden rustle made us both freeze. From the thicket, a pair of Beedrill buzzed towards us, their stingers shining with intent to paralyze.
"Poliwhirl, Squirtle, now!" Misty shouted.
Poliwhirl surged forward, blasting a powerful Water Gun that sent one Beedrill crashing into the trees, the sheer force crushing the bee to bits. Squirtle tackled the other, spinning it away before retreating back to Misty's side.
Growlithe growled low, his hackles raised. He wasn't growling at the Beedrills; he was looking up.
"Misty, look out!" I yelled. A flock of Pidgeotto swooped down, claws bared. "Umbreon, Dark Pulse! Growlithe, Flamethrower!" I commanded.
Umbreon's dark menace writhed through the air, knocking the Pidgeotto out of formation. Growlithe's flames scorched the feathers of the stragglers; one fell with a loud thump, burned to a crisp, and the others were seen fleeing into the canopy.
"Damn, I should've caught one," I said begrudgingly. It was stupid of me not to seize the moment. It was perfect.
When the dangers subsided, we pushed deeper into the forest, the shadows thickening around us like cloaks of smoke. Misty was panting now, dragging her feet with each stride.
"We'll break here," I said firmly. Misty nodded.
Once she had caught her breath again, I asked, "So, tell me."
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything."
She took a deep breath and said, "The League of Shadows… We're a resistance of sorts. We help those under Rocket's control: Fuchsia, Celadon, Vermilion, and more… They've all fallen. Pewter is one of the last free cities. That's why we must get there."
"What's in Pewter?" I asked.
"It's not what. It's who. My contact is in Pewter, waiting for my report."
"Report about what?"
"I can't say yet," she sighed. "You'll have to trust me on this one, Ash. When you meet my guy, you'll understand."
"Your guy?"
"The gym leader there, Brock. He's one of the few leaders who doesn't side with Team Rocket. If Pewter falls…" Misty started to shiver. "Then we're all fucked."
"Fall? Why would the city fall?"
"Giovanni wants it for… rocks."
"Rocks?" I said, raising my eyebrows in surprise.
"Well, not regular rocks. Moonrocks. They lie deep within the mountains. And as long as Brock is in charge, there will be no deep mountain mining."
"So…"
"So," began Misty, her voice deepening with gravity, "if something were to happen to Brock, it might change the city's legion. Winds might sweep in a different direction."
"A Team Rocket takeover?"
"Precisely."
I stood up. I wanted to ask her something but bit my tongue. I turned towards the sun, letting it wash over me. With closed eyes, I took a hard and long breath.
"Misty," I began, not waiting for her to reply. "Did they hurt you in any way? When I found you, you were…"
"Naked?"
"Battered."
She laughed. "Nothing I can't handle."
"Do you mean that?" I asked, looking for hints of deception on her bruised face. "Or are you just saying it?"
She pursed her lips, then made a duck face, almost like a sumptuous kiss; she didn't say anything for a while; she just did that again and again.
"My confidence is a bit battered, I'll admit. But other than that, I'm fine. Actually," she sprang up, "I'm fucking great." Suddenly she leaned forward. "Shit, head rush." She raised herself high again, smiling. "Seriously, Ash, I'm good. I'm just sleepy and hungry. It won't kill me. But Jesse and James might—let's keep going; I won't feel safe until the gates of Pewter are behind me."
We started walking.
"So you don't care about the… uh, clothes situation?"
Misty tilted her head sideways as though I were an innocent puppy. "Vanity is no virtue. Anyway, you owe me now," she sniggered.
"Owe you what?"
"A peek," she said with a playful grin and winked at me. "Oh, man!" she added. "There it is: Pewter City."