Slakoth are perhaps one of the more unique Pokemon currently discovered. Despite its rather unassuming appearance, Slakoth themselves are biologically engineered to survive with as little effort as possible. Known as the Slacker Pokemon, they possess several characteristics that contribute to that classification. Slakoth have been known to sleep up to twenty hours daily, sustain themselves on just three leaves, and have a heart rate averaging one beat per minute. There have even been cases of people staring too long at the Pokemon and becoming drowsy or falling asleep. Yet despite this, Slakoth somehow maintains a weight and size much more significant than one would expect, about the size of a four-year-old child. So how does a Pokemon intake so little, maintain growth, and weigh so much?
The answer lies in its stomach. Slakoth possesses a large four-chamber stomach that enables it to stockpile leaves. Once there, specialized bacteria ferment the leaves, digesting them for the Slakoth, which obtains the nutrients. Because the fermentation is performed by bacteria already present, there is a meager energy cost, which enables the Slakoth to maintain its slothful lifestyle at the expense of digestive speed. What would take another Pokemon a day or two to digest takes the Slakoth about a month. In short, the continued growth of a Slakoth is dependent on maintaining its internal reservoir of fermenting leaves while not exceeding the energy it gains.
After reading that, it wouldn't be surprising for someone to question the possibility of training a Slakoth. If they need to conserve energy and produce so little for their own use, could they even be trained or battle? The answer is, of course, yes.
Look for no better example than Hoenn's own Norman. Considered a Species Specialist in the Slakoth Line, Norman has successfully raised and trained several Slakoth, Vigoroth, and Slaking throughout his training career. He has proven to be the new Milestone Gym for the Hoenn Gym Circuit since.
Malic slowly closed the Slakoth guide with a sigh. He knew it was time to take a break when he was rereading a page. Wincing, he hobbled to his feet, smacking his legs to regain some feeling while trying not to topple like a baby Deerling. Trees, he had found, didn't make the most comfortable of chairs, but considering he was in a forest, he would have to make do.
The Slakoth guide, while illuminating in several regards, hadn't proved quite as helpful as he had hoped. Perhaps it was due to the lack of trainers willing to use a Slakoth, but most of the information was about the biology of Slakoth, not so much about training. He did at least find out that Slakoth tended to have an intrinsic knowledge of the moves Scratch and Yawn. Scratch seemed straightforward, but Malic wasn't entirely convinced about Yawn. That, somehow, just by Slakoth yawning, the other Pokemon would fall asleep? Malic resolved to test it the next time they encountered a Pokemon.
The last few hours had been peaceful, filled with walking and breaks of increasing duration. Malic put them to good use, scavenging a few berries he recognized and reading through the Slakoth guide. He had considered opening the trainer guide but felt that getting to know his Pokemon took priority. Still, the frequent breaks were a relief. He wasn't overly athletic to start, and with the added weight of Slakoth to his back, his pace quickly suffered. That might have been a good thing since he still had little idea of where he was within the enclosure, and, for all Malic knew, he could be headed in the wrong direction. Of course, he ignored that little thought and focused on the forest instead.
Despite growing up surrounded by a forest, this was Malic's first time walking through one. The only ones that went outside the walls of Grovewood were those with their own Pokemon or those just passing through the small town. It was amazing how paradoxically quiet and loud the forest was. It felt alive, with the wind rustling through the leaves and the distant cries of Pokemon as they went about their lives. Sometimes, these sounds would die, and a stillness so perfect it seemed almost a crime to break would settle over the world. At other times, the Pokemon cries and nature's song would join together in a swell of noise and life. Malic pressed onward until the sun began to sink in the sky, the shadows of the tree tops growing darker, until seeing more than a few feet in front of himself was all but impossible.
Malic knew it would be night soon. He could try and start a fire, but he didn't trust himself not to pass out and leave the fire going into the night. Hopefully, a summer night would be warm enough for his sleeping bag to be enough. Malic glanced around his general area, looking for anything that seemed appropriate. Off to his left was a break in the canopy, and framed between the branches was a huge tree. It appeared several times wider than any other tree he had seen, its trunk towering over its neighbors while branches that resembled small trees sprouted in all directions.
The giant tree seemed familiar to Malic, and he pulled the folded map from his pocket. Sure enough, a large tree was marked near the middle of the Eastern forest. A smile grew on Malic's face as he folded the map and returned it to his bag. Not only would the tree provide shelter, but it also told him exactly where he was concerning the lab.
Malic used the fading light to make his way to the great tree; his feet energized once more with a destination in mind. He heard a small yawn in his right ear and felt a bit of movement as Slakoth's face suddenly moved right next to his. Malic paused, waiting to see if Slakoth would do anything, but Slakoth seemed content to peer around slowly from his shoulder perch.
The forest ended abruptly, trees giving way to an open expanse of grass and flowers that surrounded the large tree. It was even larger up close, so much so that Malic couldn't see the top. A woven net of living branches stretched out overhead, intermingling until it was impossible to tell where one began and another ended.
Malic stood for a long while, watching how the oranges and yellows of the sunset flickered between the leaves before slowly dying into the deep indigo of early night. Only once the sparks of daylight were completely extinguished did Malic begin to circle the tree, looking for a suitable nook between gnarled roots to sleep.
About a quarter of the way around the tree, Malic noticed a hollow in the tree, a large crack that ran from the tree's base up the trunk, gradually tapering off about 10 feet above the ground. It was an inconsequential wound to the titanic tree, but it seemed a perfect spot to stop for the night. He fought through the labyrinth of large gnarled roots protruding from the ground, each eager to hook around his ankle and send him tumbling down.
He found that the hollow was spacious once he cleared away some old leaves and shards of bark, the inside being just large enough for him to lay down comfortably. "Here's our stop for the night, Slakoth. Make yourself comfortable."
Slakoth's feet hit the ground, the arms around Malic's shoulders disappearing as Slakoth slowly glanced around the hollow. Malic slung his bag around to the front of him and opened it, pulling out his still-wrapped sleeping bag. He also removed an Oran berry he had picked earlier and offered it to Slakoth after double-checking that the faint sweet smell had yet to sour.
His guide had explained that, due to the structure of the Slakoth's stomach, if they consumed spoiled food, it would linger in their system for far longer than other Pokemon and could cause severe damage if not treated quickly. Seeing as they were without means of assistance, Malic was taking every precaution.
Slakoth snagged the berry from Malic's hand, bringing it to its mouth and nibbling at it. Malic popped his own Oran berry in his mouth as he unfurled the sleeping bag and settled it in the middle of the hollow. Looking out of the opening, he saw that night had finally descended onto the world, the trees a few meters away, nothing but indistinct shapes swaying in the darkness. It was a bit chillier than Malic had thought, but the tree blocked the wind, and he could already feel the hollow heating up with two warm bodies in it.
Malic removed his shoes and coat, folding them both a few feet away from his sleeping bag, leaving himself in his pants, tee shirt, and socks. He slid into the sleeping bag, feeling the insulated stuffing absorb and reflect his body heat. A soft weight settled on his chest, and Malic found Slakoth's berry juice-stained face staring at him. "Did you want in here as well?"
Slakoth didn't move, staring at the sleeping bag zipper until Malic, shaking his head in fond exasperation, opened the bag, letting Slakoth settle onto his chest. Slakoth's face nuzzles against his shoulder for a moment, seeming to get comfortable before quickly falling asleep. Malic decided to take a page from Slakoth's book and settle down. In a few minutes, Slakoth and Malic lightly snored inside the hollow, content for the night.
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Soft light from a semicircle of monitors illuminated the uncharacteristic frown on Birch's face. A staccato of mouse clicks accompanied his eyes darting from screen to screen, each showing a live feed of different areas within the enclosure. The hidden network of cameras had taken quite some time to become operational, but it made the upkeep and monitoring of the enclosure much more feasible.
Of course, Birch wasn't monitoring the feeds on his own. With a few hundred cameras scattered about, an army of lab assistants and rangers monitored them around the clock. Birch was skimming through, idly noting participants when they appeared. Only a few were still active, blindly stumbling through the darkened landscape or navigating with help from their Pokemon. Birch winced as one managed to walk straight into a tree while arguing with his starter, a particularly mischievous-looking Surskit.
Another channel showed four applicants who had managed to group up and were sitting around a roaring campfire beside a lake. 'Seems one of them managed to get a fire starter.' Birch flipped through the following few feeds, mostly showing tents or sleeping bags if they had any people at all. A notice appeared in the corner of his screen, a familiar eighteen-sided Pokeball logo. His eyes glanced up at it, and after staring for a few seconds, he sighed, clicking on it. Immediately, all the drone feeds closed, and on his centermost monitor, the screen splits into four dark sections, his camera view shrinking to a small square in the center.
The first to join Birch in the call was Gramm Quinn, the eighty-sixth Hoenn Pokemon League President, who was settled comfortably behind a desk. He had a full head of slicked-back white hair that glowed from the moonlight peering through the large Kalosian windows behind him. His face was angular and sharp, with slight wrinkles creating creases around the corners of his mouth and dark brown eyes. Small scars dotted his face, the pale lines contrasting with his darker tan skin. He was wearing a dark blue vest over a white collared shirt, the symbol for the Hoenn region embroidered onto the vest in golden thread, just over the heart. He raised a crystal glass towards the camera, and Birch responded with a nod.
The next screen appeared soon after Gramm did. Short, dumpy, and with an ever-present smile, Scott was, in many ways, the exact opposite of Gramm. Nevertheless, the famous Talent Scout was one of the most powerful men in Hoenn and owner of the soon-to-be-completed Battle Frontier, which boasted a collection of trainers strong enough to give the Hoenn League a run for its money. "Hey, Birch, how's the new crop of trainers?" Scott drawled out, slurping on an elaborately shaped straw in a tall, colorful drink.
"They are doing well, all things considered. I'm anticipating a decent turnout, but we both know that passing these little tests is nothing compared to an actual Journey." Birch rubbed his left shoulder, an old ache throbbing for a moment.
Before Scott could continue the conversation, the last two screens popped up simultaneously. One had a slowly spinning PWO logo, and the other, Steven Stone. The young Devon heir was tall and thin, suit immaculate and hair groomed despite appearing to be in a cave. Devon's newest good, a solar-charged lantern known as the Flash Lamp, steadily illuminated his face.
"Good evening, President Gramm, Steven, and Scott. I hope you are all well," Birch said, the strained grin on his face matching his fake jovial tone. There was only one reason why this specific group would be gathered. A heavily synthesized voice spoke, heading off any greetings the others might have said. "We do not have time for pleasantries. Birch, how are the trainer tests proceeding?" Birch sighed, glancing at the PWO logo. Though they were the real support behind the Initiative, their assigned PWO official remained anonymous, rarely communicating except through excessively long emails and documents.
Through the few times they had spoken, Birch had gotten the sense that, whoever it was, he was a bureaucrat in the truest sense. Cold, pragmatic, and slicker than a newly shed Ekans, Birch knew enough not to like him, but could respect the apparent effort he put into the project. The only reason the initiative got off the ground was wave after wave of league appeals and drafted statements spearheaded by Gramm, Steven, and the mystery bureaucrat.
"They are on the survival test now, spread out throughout the enclosure with only the standard trainer gear to help them find their way back. Night has just fallen, and most have taken shelter for the night, though a few are trying to push through." Birch shared a rueful chuckle with Scott and Steven. Travel at night was practically a right of passage for Pokemon Trainers. "We took the liberty of removing most of the dangerous wild Pokemon for the duration of the test as not to endanger the participants too—"
"—Release all the wild Pokemon back into the enclosure."
Birch was stunned, lips flapping, devoid of words. He glanced at the others on the call and could tell Steven was as shocked as he was. Gram maintained a neutral expression, but Birch thought he noticed a small vein throbbing in his neck. Only Scott didn't appear fazed, though his head was cocked like a Doduo looking at a juicy Caterpie.
"Are you crazy!? The Pokemon we relocated were too territorial and aggressive to let inexperienced people near. Hell, they barely tolerate me, and I've worked with some of them for years. They are way too dangerous for these applicants to handle. Are you trying to kill them?" Even as Birch ranted, he used a hand to quickly type a message, warning the rangers near the Pokemon Hold of the situation.
"I thought the initiative aimed to discover and create strong trainers. How can we truly assess their potential if they aren't pushed? Those who survive are fit to become trainers. Those who don't, well, they wouldn't have amounted to much anyways." Even through the electronic processing, the reply was cold enough to send shivers down Birch's spine.
He had always known that the PWO leadership was harsh and pragmatic, but this seemed extreme, even for them. "I won't do it! I refuse to allow a massacre to happen in my lab!" Birch roared out, slamming his fist on the table.
"I agree with Birch," Steven Stone leaned forward, hands clasped in front of his face. "I cannot, in good conscience, condone throwing wholly unprepared people who just received their Pokemon into such a life-or-death situation. It takes time to bond and build the relationship required to take on a challenge like what you propose."
"You know, that's a pretty cool idea!" The laid-back voice of Scott piped in. "Exploring an unknown area, Pokemon released halfway through, having to navigate through new territories and encounters, it would really test the mettle of a trainer. I might have to steal it for the Battle Frontier…but not for these kids. I'm all for a little push, but losing a bunch of 'em wouldn't look good on Birch or the PWO. So yeah, gonna have to go with Birch and Steven on this one."
"Nor would it reflect well on the Hoenn Region." Gramm barked out. "The purpose of this Initiative is to strengthen the Hoenn Trainer roster, but not at the expense of its people! Hoenn needs trainers of all levels to grow, not just a few at the top."
The conversation fell silent for a few moments, each second stretching longer than the last. The silence was broken by the voice crackling back to life. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I didn't wait to ask your opinions before I authorized it." Before Birch could say anything, a loud boom reverberated through the room. Birch springs up to his feet, running to his window, where he can see a large plume of smoke emerging above the treetops, right where the Pokemon Hold was located.
"Don't worry, Birch, I didn't have all the Pokemon released. Just enough to make this test a bit more…challenging. I look forward to hearing the results." The lower right feed cut out; the logo replaced with a blank black screen.
"Arceus, help them," Birch muttered as roars and shrieks rang out into the night. He quickly turned from the window and ran back to his desk. "The hold was damaged, an explosion of some kind. I don't know how many Pokemon were released. Steven, are you anywhere close to the lab?"Hoenn's Champion was already packing his camp. "I'm in Dewford and can be there in twenty minutes. Tungsten, Head Smash."
Steven's camera cut off, and Birch turned to an uncharacteristically serious Scott. "Scott, do you have any Frontier Brains nearby? Or any scouted trainers?" Scott pulled out a PokeNav, fingers flying over the keypad. "No luck on a Brain, but I have some Ace-level trainers nearby. I'll send them your way."
Scott blinked out as well, leaving just Birch and Gramm. "Birch, how bad do you think it is?" Birch looked to the window again, the orange light of a Hyper Beam lancing through the cobalt sky. "That depends on how many people we can get out. I'll let you know when I know Gramm."
Birch shut off his monitor and grabbed a belt with five Pokeballs magnetically attached to it. As he watched the feeds, he pressed the button to activate the lab intercom. "Attention all personnel, wild Pokemon have been released back into the enclosure while applicants are still inside. We are initializing Code FireRed! This is not a drill! Defense squad! Prepare to cast a perimeter twenty meters from the lab in all directions! Scouting squad, your task is to find and rescue as many people as possible! Be prepared to fight off some of the more aggressive wild Pokemon! I repeat, this is not a drill!"
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Alton Creed was perfect. He had the best family, best clothes, best house, best of anything he asked for. The one thing he didn't have was the best Pokemon. When he went to Daddy to request it, he was stunned to find his request denied. He had never been told no, much less by Daddy. He tried his charm, then his pout, even resorting to pleading, but nothing he did changed Daddy's mind, and all he got was some lecture about responsibility.
He hadn't even been interested in being a stupid Pokemon Trainer, but being denied it made it an obsession. He just couldn't help but want it. And then, like destiny, his peon Harold found the advertisement for the New Trainer Initiative. Recruiting Harold and Thorton into the idea, he signed them up, paid off the ranger to escort them without speaking to Daddy, and whisked them off.
The idea had seemed grand at the time, but now, knee-deep in swampy gunk, alone and cold, he couldn't fathom how people wanted to do this for a living. He cursed as his designer shirt got caught yet again on a low-laying branch, the twigs snagging the material and aggravating the already-formed holes up and down the sleeves. His white dress pants and dress shoes were caked with mud, and his once-gelled-back blonde hair was hanging in front of his face in sweaty, stringy strands.
"Ugh, I can't believe the nerve of that stupid professor! Just teleporting someone like me into the middle of nowhere with no warning! Just wait until Daddy hears about this!" His ranting was interrupted by the snapping of a twig behind him. A girlish squeal tore from his lips, and he threw his Pokeball towards the noise, his arms held out in front of his face as he turned his face, eyes closed. A tittering giggle was all that greeted him as his newly released Surskit danced around him. His face grew hot, pride sinking into the mud along with the rest of him. "Shut up, you stupid Pokemon!" he yelled as he stomped his foot, which only served to splash up more muck onto his pants and shoes.
Surskit gave another high-pitched giggle before disappearing into the brush. "You stupid bug! Get back here!" Alton screamed at the bush, expecting the Surskit to obey. Reluctantly, after no response, he started pressing through the brush after Surskit while complaining. "Ugh, why did I have to get stuck with a useless Pokemon like you!? I can't wait until I can get some real Pokemon from Daddy! Then, the gym challenge will be a piece of cake! I can't believe some losers catch their own Pokemon. When you're as important as me, I get people to do that for me."
As Alton is ranting to himself, he stumbles out of the thick brush and into a small clearing with a pond. Skittering about on top of the pond is his Surskit, who chirps happily at the sight of him and waves with one spindly leg. A vein throbbed on Alton's temple as he gritted his teeth. "You led me through all those horrid bushes and trees just so you could dance on a puddle!?"
He picked up a rock and threw it angrily toward the Surskit. The rock flew well over Surskit's head and landed in the bushes. Instead of hitting the ground or a tree with a dull thud, the rock made a meatier smacking sound. The bushes were still and then violently shook as a tremendous shape emerged from the trees.
It was over eight feet tall and had a purple, centipede-like body. Half of its body stood straight up, exposing its dark gray underside. Long antenna-like horns emerged from its head and on the last body segment, making the Pokemon appear even more prominent. The horns each had lighter purple bands going around it, a thinner one near the tip and thicker ones nearer the middle and base of the horns. Slightly pointed rings of the same color as the bands adorned each body segment. Four pairs of smaller purple claws lined the upright portion of the Pokemon, while two pairs of strong, long legs carried it, each leg with a darker gray band around its middle. Its face was dominated by a hooking beak-like mouth and piercing amber eyes that were half-lidded with a slit black pupil.
Alton recognized it as a Scolipede, a powerful poison type from Unova and one of the Pokemon he had requested from Daddy. Daddy had actually yelled at him for that one, something about not understanding the relationship between Hoenn and Unova. "Hahahaha! And people act like finding powerful Pokemon is difficult. You there, Scolipede! I assume you have heard of the magnificence of the Creeds and wish to play a small role in making me great! I will permit you to follow me!"
Scolipede let out a low, annoyed hiss as it stalked forward, a small scuff mark visible on the armored segment below its head. As it drew closer, its segmented body looming over him, Alton paled, his arrogant demeanor abandoning him instantly. He backed up slowly, his body trembling. The Scolipede's horns twitched and its claws chittered against its carapace, eyes locking onto Alton's retreating form.
A single step forward was made with much greater force, the ground cratering slightly under the force of the stomp as it lowered its head slightly, the large curved horns now pointing in Alton's direction. That was the only warning before Scolipede burst into action, moving quickly for something so large. Its feet pounded against the earth as it covered the distance between itself and Alton in a few seconds, horns whistling through the air.
It was only through sheer luck that Alton had stumbled moments before, his heels catching on a root, causing him to fall and the horns to impale the tree behind him only inches above his head. The Scolipede's baleful gaze was only inches away from Alton's face, the burning amber eyes glaring daggers at him. He whimpered and scrambled away on his hands and knees, a suspicious stain forming around the crotch of his pants. A mix of snot and tears ran down his face as he staggered to his feet.
He looked back to the Scolipede, whose horns remained stabbed into the tree. It tried pulling them out a few times but was stuck fast. Hysterical laughter erupted from him, almost doubling him over in its intensity. "Y-you stupid bug! You thought you could kill me!? How fucking arrogant! I'm Alton fucking Creed, and you're just some worthless Pokemon!" He screamed, spit flying from his mouth.
His rant was interrupted by the loud crunch of wood. A substantial chunk of the tree's trunk broke off as the glowing purple horns on Scolipede's rear slammed into the tree. All the bravado that had overtaken Alton vanished in a flash, and he quickly turned around and was about to bolt when he noticed that Surskit had appeared next to him. Looking down at the small bug type, he was overcome by a sudden hot rage. "This is all your fault. If only you hadn't been such a worthless–"
His words stopped, and an oily smirk slipped across his face as he knelt, looking Surskit in the eyes. "But that's okay, Surskit. I forgive you. How about we take this thing on together?" Surskit nods happily, not noticing the dark gleam in Alton's eyes.
"Now, Surskit, use Bubble on that Scolipede! Move in a circle around it, and don't stop!" He commands with false cheer in his voice. Surskit darted forward, its spindly legs gliding over the grass as it spews tiny bubbles from its mouth towards the stuck Scolipede. The small spheres burst against the Scolipede's shell with small popping sounds. The Scolipede grunts, its face betraying nothing but annoyance as it swipes its tail at the tree trunk again, tearing an even bigger chunk of the tree out and exposing its right horn.
One more swing would have the entire tree crashing down, and Scolipede would be free. Surskit danced around the larger Pokemon warily, bombarding it with bubbles. Surskit glanced back to Alton for approval, only to see an empty clearing. Surskit hesitantly approached where Alton had been standing, eyes scanning the ground, seeing the muddy shoe prints leading out of the clearing. Surskit's small black eyes widened and welled up with tears as it realized its trainer had run.
The crunch of wood echoed behind it, the tortured groaning of the tree ending in a crash. Scolipede raised itself to its full height and turned towards the small Surskit, its amber eyes glowing as it stalked forward. Surskit tried to flee onto the water, seeking the comfort of a familiar environment, but the Scolipede exploded forward. Powerful legs left craters as its horn rapidly grew, glowing a sinister green color as it swung down a Megahorn towards the dashing Surskit. A piercing squeal echoed through the trees before a loud explosion rocked the clearing; a plume of dirt and rocks rose above the tree line before all fell silent again.