Season One, Episode 4

Conversion

Troy sits, awkwardly staring at his plate - a salad neatly garnished with various fruits and vegetables, mixed in with sauteed cutlets. He hasn't touched his food. Across the table, Kuby digs in. We see him pluck his fork into his food, carry it to his mouth…he cherishes every bite. He closes his eyes, satisfied with his work.

Kuby: Man…that's good stuff.

He smiles a wide, shit-eating grin. Troy shifts nervously.

Kuby: You ain't gonna eat it, are ya?

Troy: I'm not…I don't…

Kuby: Translation - you're a pussy! Geez. You've never had Pokemon before, have ya? Good god, of all the people he could have dragged to my house.

He puts his fork down, clearly frustrated. He opens his mouth - then stops himself. He taps his hand fervently on the table.

Kuby: Okay, listen. Got a story for you that…applies to this situation. I had a grandfather who lived in Johto. Okay? He owned a Miltank farm - small operation. And in the summer, I'd go over there and help him milk the Miltanks and shit. Well, I've been out playin', and I go back in and my grandpa is sittin' in his chair. And he's drunk! I mean just totally blasted and I'd never seen him like that.

Troy shifts his eyes quickly to the doorway leading out of the room. Kuby becomes more and more tense as he talks.

Kuby: And so I ask him… "What's wrong, grandpa? What's the matter with you?" And the old man starts crying! Literally wept! And he tells me, "Patty…when I was your age we'd eat Miltank every Sunday. Every Sunday your great-granny would fix the most fabulous meal." And I'm just a little kid, y'know? So I'm telling him, "Well, you've got so many Miltanks, can't we just eat one this Sunday?" It wasn't like we'd run out!

He laughs as he waxes nostalgic, Troy becoming more and more uncomfortable as he rants on.

Kuby: But the fact is, the world had moved on. My grand-dad would've got thrown in jail had he eaten one of his Miltanks! How crazy is that? We're the top of the food chain…we…I mean as a civilization, we rock this shit. Don't we? And we can't use the goddamn Pokemon to our advantage because…why? Because some Treecko huggers and Pokemon breeders get their feelings hurt? This is my house. This -

He gestures to his plate.

Kuby (Continued): This is my food! I cooked it. You saw me!That's what this is all about. Freedom. Freedom to -

Troy: To eat Pokemon?

Kuby chuckles at this.

Kuby: No. Not eat Pokemon. To do whatever the fuck we want with 'em. If Pokemon give us strength, why shouldn't we take all of it? Hm?

There's a beat as we see them both sitting across from each other.

Kuby: No answer. Of course. Look, kid, we've got a handshake deal - you and I. So I'll be blunt. You walk out that door, without honoring that deal, you've gotta answer to a higher power than me. And you won't like it. I don't give a Ratatat's ass if you eat my delicious, home-cooked meal. I don't care. I'm a libertarian, dude! You make your choice - but you can't…

He picks up his fork out of spite and shoves a bite in his mouth.

Kuby (mouth full): …take away mine!

He swallows.

Kuby: So what's it gonna be, kid? You gonna walk out that door with a target on your back…or are you gonna play ball?

A Lapras surfs across the ocean, a young boy seemingly guiding it, sitting around its neck. Near the rear of the Lapras's shell is Saul Goodman, clearly a little seasick. The sight of him, on a lapras, in his flamboyant suit is laughable.

Saul: How much longer?

Boy: It won't be long.

He spends some time looking at Saul.

Boy: You're not going to Indigo Plateau to battle the Elite Four, are you?

Saul: Actually…

They both look onward, as the Plateau, a massive red building with a series of golden arches leading up to its main entryway. Saul grins.

Saul: …as a matter of fact, I am.

We cut to the sliding doors of the Indigo Plateau opening, Saul proudly stepping in. In front of him is a small Pokemon Center station. He steps up to the nurse and flashes his ID.

Saul: Saul Goodman. I believe I made an appointment to see Mr. uh…

Secretary: Lance.

Saul looks up and over at the tall, dark-haired woman with glasses standing by the door.

Secretary: You're here to see Lance, right?

Saul: You got it!

He winks at the nurse and makes his way to the door. Him and the secretary walk down a hall, lined with offices and larger, industrial doors.

Saul: Big operation here, huh?

The secretary ignores him as they walk to the last door. She knocks curtly three times. A small green light above the door flashes and she opens the door for Saul.

He walks into a small, almost closet size office. Nothing on the wall except a seemingly ancient painting of a red Gyrados. Inside, a red-haired man wearing a shirt and tie hunches over a computer. This is Lance - the leader of the Elite Four and the foremost authority on Dragon-type Pokemon on the planet.

He sits up from his desk, extending a hand to Saul.

Lance: Mr. Goodman, a pleasure.

They shake hands.

Saul: Hi. What, no cape?

Lance (chuckling): Not during office hours, I'm afraid.

He pats his computer monitor in mock affection.

Lance: If I don't have any challengers lined up, I typically indulge in research and virtual training. In a perfect world, I'd carry all this in my pocket and I could enjoy some time back in Johto.

Saul: Well, the world's far from perfect, isn't it?

Lance: It really is.

Saul: I guess I should cut to the chase. I represent a group called CCLT. Concerned Citizens of Lavender Town.

Lance shrugs in confusion.

Lance: And what are they concerned about? The ghosts?

Saul: My clients don't find this to be a laughing matter.

Lance: Of course. Well, to be honest with you, I don't find myself in Lavender all that often. I keep in touch with a friend of mine there, but without a gym presence the city is off-limits to Pokemon League jurisdiction.

Saul: Well what about Route 12?

Lance's eyes narrow.

Lance: What about Route 12?

Saul: Well, the fine folks of Lavender Town aren't ones to spread gossip, but one of these concerned citizens has received notice that you and some potential rabble-rousers from Pallet Town may be stirring up trouble with the local ecosystem. A little experiment involving Dragonairs, maybe?

Lance: Well, there hasn't been a public release about those data-collection surveys, but yes. I will be on Route 12 in a few weeks. And Professor Oak is one of the greatest minds I've ever met - with strong roots in Eastern Kanto. What exactly is your client's concern?

Saul: I'm glad you asked.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of index cards - maybe 60 or so - and begins reading them.

Saul: This one is from Genevive, she owns a bakery in Lavender. "I receive my shipments of dough from Fuchsia City and with Route 12 shut down, I'll be forced to go without. Will I be able to stay in business?"

Saul: Oh, and here's one from Beau, a fisherman. "The best Seadra in Kanto is found on Root 12. My greatest fear is that all these scientists mucking up the waters will cause them to scurry forever."

Lance looks at Saul like he could strangle him.

Saul: How about -

He flips through the cards.

Saul: Oh! Miss Maybell, she is just the sweetest. "I had plans with my husband, who has terminal cancer, to see the Dragonair. They were always his favorite Pokemon. With all these strange people setting up their bizarre, unwanted -"

Lance: Okay. I think I've heard enough.

Saul puts the pile on Lance's desk.

Saul: I'll leave these with you.

Lance: So what is it that you want?

Saul: Well, it's not about me. It's about the people of Lavender Town. And all they want - okay, two things they want.

Lance: Uh-huh…

Saul: A firm date and time, so they can plan their busy lives around your selfish pursuit of -

He flings his hands into the air.

Saul: Whatever the hell it is you're pursuing. And - and this is the big one - they want representation there to make sure you conduct these experiments in a way that is not disruptive to the general populace.

An old man sits in a rocking chair, reading. It's night time out. This is Mr. Fuji, a retired Pokemon researcher who lives comfortably in Lavender Town. A sleeping Raichu is curled up in his lap.

There's peace here, a sense of community between this man and his Pokemon. We zoom out to see a sitting room full of them - a Cubone, a Poliwhirl, a Lickitung.

Then the phone rings.

Fuji picks it up, it's Lance.

In his office, Lance sifts through the index cards Saul left behind.

Lance: Mr. Fuji! It's Lance. Yes. Yeah, it's been -

He looks out the door, at the sterile hallway stretching across the complex.

Lance: Yes, sir. We're uh…busy.

Back at Fuji's, he's grabbing a pencil and jotting down some notes.

Fuji: These are names of people in Lavender Town? Maybell? Timothy?

He's writing a list of names.

Fuji: Well, they all exist. There's not too many people here, you know.

Lance: And how confident are you that they'd have some issue with our research?

Fuji: Not very. But, you know Lance, there are some strange people in this town.

Back at Indigo Plateau, Lance finishes the conversation and hangs up the phone. He sits for a moment, contemplating things. He clicks a button on an intercom next to his desk. A woman's voice comes through.

Intercom: Yes, sir?

Lance: I'd like you to contact Mr. Goodman.

Intercom: The lawyer? Shouldn't you run everything by -

Lance: No, no. That's okay. Let's keep things on the level. Send him the pertinent data and let him know we'd be happy to welcome members of this…organization he represents.