* * *
Chapter Eight: Leaf Gets A Little Boulder (Fate Of Pewter Gym!!! Of Recoveries and Burglaries!)
Floating … am I floating? Lot of clouds here. Dark, puffy clouds. Weird stuff. Where am I exactly?
… Well, I guess this isn’t so bad. Being a Pikachu on drugs could be worse.
CRASH.
“OmigoshI’msososososososososososorry—”
“Shut UP!”
Eh? What’s going on? She blearily opened her heavy eyes, blinking the sleep away. The blurred outline of a person slowly came into focus above her. It was Brock, who sitting on a chair next to her and looking (she assumed) over her, at somebody on other side of the room.
“Oh, that’s just great, you woke her up. Nice going, Lightning.”
“It’s not
my fault that it was there,” came Lightning’s voice, which was pouting. “It just got in my way, and … I fell.”
An exasperated sigh. “It was a door. You tripped over a
door, Lightning. Seriously, how are you going to coordinate your Pokemon if you can’t even coordinate your own feet?”
“Depends on how big his feet are,” Leaf mumbled.
“LEAF! You’re finally awake!” Lightning yelled excitedly, earning him another glare fr
om Brock. He darted into view, Peach on his shoulder as usual. He suddenly swept her into a tight hug, crushing the air out of her lungs. “It’s so cool that you’re alive, still!”
“I g-guess,” Leaf choked out. “Now c-can you get off m-me?”
Grinning embarrassedly, Lightning released his grip, causing Leaf to gasp in relief. “Sorry. But what happened was so intense! That Tyranitar was completely
destroyed by us! And we’re just noobs, still! We are gonna be such awesome trainers, aren’t we?”
“Sure, sure. Where am I?” she asked, sitting up and looking around curiously. She was laying in some small, linen-covered bed, surrounded on all four sides by plain, off-white walls, lined with cabinets covered in various metallic instruments. The sterile, Lysol-scented air made her wrinkle her nose in distaste. Looking down at herself, she noticed that she was in a white hospital gown, which was uncomfortably scratchy.
“Pewter’s Pokemon Center,” Brock replied. “They handle this sort of emergency better than the normal hospitals do. I had to pull a lot of strings to get you in here, though. But damn, they do the job quick. The whole doctoring operation thing only took a couple minutes.”
Tentatively, Leaf lifted one of her legs slightly into the air, and was rewarded with the sight of her foot, pushed back by the thin blanket on top of her. “Feels great,” she said, grinning. “Where’s Ocean and Fire? Have they come in here yet?”
Brock stiffened at the mention of the two boys. “That … is a long story. We’ll tell you about it a bit later.”
Leaf frowned.
Are the two of them okay? she wondered worriedly. “Alright, I guess I can wait. How long do I have to stay in here?”
“You can leave right now, if you want. Nurse Joy says that everything’s been all taken care of already. Except for the fact that your outfit was kind of torn up beyond repair yesterday when the Tyranitar fell on you, but the nurse said you can grab something fr
om the Lost and Found. Your handbag and Poke Balls were fine, though.”
“Really? Wow, that’s … convenient. In a kind of anticlimactic, unexciting way.”
“Well, it is a hospital,” Lightning said reasonably. “Things involving them do tend to be unexciting and boring.”
Brock gave him a sideways glance (possibly). “You’ve never watched
Grey’s Anatomy, have you?”
<I don’t know about Grey, but the only anatomy I’m interesting in watching is Lightning’s,> Peach giggled, causing Leaf to sweatdr
op.
* * *
“Ooh, are you leaving already?” the slender, pink-haired nurse at the front desk asked as the trio of humans came into the lobby. Seeing as her outfit had been utterly destroyed yesterday, Leaf had been forced to borrow a pair of extremely skinny lime-green sweatpants, bright orange high heels, and an unbelievably large yellow T-shirt dotted with ketchup stains.
These were not lost on accident, Leaf snarled mentally, wriggling her toes in the biting high heels.
What’s really
sad is that this was the best they had to offer. Aloud she said, “Yeah, it’s time to go. Thank you for helping me, Nurse Joy.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, Leaf!” the nurse giggled annoyingly, handing something to her. “Here are your Poke Balls. I took the liberty of making your Pokemon feel all better. We just hope you enjoyed your stay at the Pokemon Center, and we hope to see you again!”
Frosti was immediately released fr
om his Poke Ball. He took one look at Leaf and collapsed on the floor, laughing hysterically. <That,> he wheezed, pointing at her clothes, <is without a doubt the
worst se
lection of clothes that I have ever seen in my entire young life! I mean, I’m glad that you’re fine, but WOW!>
“Thanks for that. Wait a minute … what d’you mean, ‘you hope to see me again’? Are you hoping I’ll get crushed by a Wailord next time, or what?”
“Well, thanks again, Nurse,” Brock said, beaming and blowing the nurse a kiss as he hastily ushering a steaming Leaf out the revolving door.
The second they stepped outside of the Pokemon Center, illuminated in the late morning sun, Leaf suddenly shrieked and clutched at her handbag protectively. “I can’t be seen like this!” she screamed, darting across the street towards a clothing store. As she flew over the pavement, nearly getting flattened by a honking motorcycle, several passersby turned to gawk at her atrocious getup.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Lightning cleared his throat and stated, “Well, I’m glad I’m not a girl.”
* * *
“There it is,” Cobalt said softly, pointing around the bush at the large brown building some hundred yards away. A couple of guards sleepily patrolled nearby. “The museum. Everyone except for those losers is out to lunch. With any luck I can grab something ridiculously valuable fr
om there.”
“We could’ve stolen the girl’s Lapras by now,” Gina muttered, polishing one of her Poke Balls lazily.
“Yes, but I don’t believe in stealing Pokemon fr
om people who are unconscious and/or dead. Believe it or not, I actually have some morals.”
“That’s a laugh. We’re in
Team Rocket. We shun morals like the plague.”
Cobalt blushed, but said nothing. Instead, he simply pushed his dorkishly large sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose, nearly slicing them into his face. A stupid explanation like morals was better than the truth. He couldn’t bring himself to explain that the girl’s predicament had awoken some sort of dormant emotion inside him. What was it called again? Pity? He hadn’t tasted pity in years. It sort of ached, like invisible ropes keeping one fr
om doing one’s duty. Cobalt clenched his fists angrily. Empathy shouldn’t stand in the way of achieving the goal … the ultimate goal. To see
it again …
“Cobalt?”
He jumped in surprise. Gina was staring at him, a concerned expression shaping on her face. “You okay? You were kind of looking stupid.”
“I’m fine,” he muttered, getting to his feet with a grunt and shifting his canvas bag further up his arm, until it hung fr
om his shoulder. He glanced at the windows nearest to the ground, which were on the third floor. “How do I look?” he asked absently, not particularly caring about what the answer might be.
Gina’s bored gaze roamed over his new wig, a waist-length mane of tangled black hair. “Like a retarded DJ.”
“Excellent. Now, here’s the plan. I have to sneak in there, because that’s what cool people do. So I need a Pokemon to make a distraction. Then I’ll walk right in, take something valuable, and walk out. Simple enough.”
“Why can’t
I come?” Gina pouted, sticking her upper lip out.
“Well, you
could, technically … but I don’t think ‘Daddy’ would like it if you got caught if you trip over something in a completely conspicuous way. Remember last time, when I took you out to bomb the S.S. Anne?”
“It wasn’t my fault!” the girl cried indignantly. “The weird captain guy was barfing all over the place! Of
course I was going to slip on it!”
“Yeah? And what if one of the skeletons in the museum vomits for some reason?”
“… Skeletons don’t vomit.”
“I’m being hypothetical. Pop quiz: if a skeleton vomited, would you run, scream, just stand there, or snap a picture?”
Gina tapped her fingers against her chin thoughtfully. “Probably … all of them?”
Cobalt facefaulted, but held onto his last thread of patience. “That was a trick question. Duh. You’re supposed to roll off to the side, or jump, depending on whether it’s flying high or low. Of course, if you’d been crawling on the ceiling like you were supposed to, you wouldn’t have to deal with this problem.”
“Can you
please stop lecturing me?” Gina sighed, exasperated. “Just go on ahead and get something without me, won’t you?”
“Of course. Ohhhh, snap, I almost forgot. I need to borrow one of your Pokemon for the distraction.”
Gina rolled her eyes. “Can’t you use Bulbasaur?”
“Dunno,” Cobalt snapped sarcastically, releasing a beam of red light to condense into a very angry toad creature. “Hey, Bulbasaur. If I asked you to do a really big favor for me, and for Gina, and for everybody back at base, and for all the good people in the world, and for that retard who got to the Charmander before I did, would you put aside our differences for once and let everybody in the world be friends, and dance through pretty clouds of rainbows and stolen bags of money fr
om ninety-seven different countries, not counting Mexico?”
<… What the fricking hell? The damn answer is no, even though I have absolutely no idea what the damn hell you just said.>
“Watch your damn language. Anyway, Gina, there’s your answer: no. Now, which of yours are you going to lend me?”
Gina sighed and crossed her arms. “You’d want a sneaky distraction, so Qwerty’s not an option. As for the other two, Sprouty’s a bit weak, and Belly’s … not exactly good at maneuvering. So I can’t lend you anything.”
“Great.” Cobalt recalled Bulbasaur moodily, gritting his teeth. “Another intensely cool operation down the drain. I guess I could find—”
<Somebody to help? ‘Cause I can!>
Cobalt jumped in shock and swiveled to see who had spoken. A small, furry, pale yellow head was sticking fr
om the bush, decorated with two small pointed ears. Wide red eyes gazed at them in curiosity, and a couple of huge, sharp teeth protruded fr
om the upper jaw.
<I wanna help!> the Pokemon chirped excitedly, and her long, serpentine, quadruped body slithered out of the bush. <I’ll help you steal stuff because stealing is so cool! Because yesterday I stole a bunch of eggs fr
om a Pidgeotto’s nest! He was pretty mad at me so I laughed at him. What are you gonna steal? Is it gonna be some huge Wailord egg! That would be epic. I’ll help you eat it if you want. Just lemme have the yolk, m’kay? I like juicy stuff like yolks. Mmm.>
The two humans blinked a couple of times. “I’m not entirely sure whether that thing is adorable or disgusting,” Gina contemplated aloud, her eyes traveling over the Pokemon’s wagging, pointed tail.
“It’s a Phrygoil,” Cobalt breathed, less fr
om awe than fr
om utter disbelief. “You don’t see a lot of those in Kanto.”
<That’s ‘cause Kanto doesn’t have as many McDonald’s. Kerothyu has lots, though. We lurrrrrrve McDonald’s food. It’s all greasy and chewy and flabby and mmmmmm.>
“Um, okay …?”
<So if I help you, can you gimme a lot of McDonald’s food? Because I lurrrrve—>
“Yes, yes, of course,” Cobalt said tiredly, waving at the museum vaguely. “If you betray me I will personally kill you.”
The Phrygoil was off in a flash. For a moment Cobalt wondered if he’d actually managed to scare the thing, and puffed himself up proudly. However, he deflated a bit when he noticed that the Pokemon quickly caught one guard in a Wrap, squeezing consciousness out of him, while freezing the other one with a Leer. <C’mon, Weird Hair Guy!> she called back, not taking her glaring eyes fr
om the guard’s terrified face. <I’ll hold them off as long as you need me to!>
Cobalt exchanged a bemused glance with Gina before darting towards the museum, skipping over patches of grass dotting the walkway toward it. He pushed the unlocked double doors out of his way and entered the high-ceilinged entry hall, which boasted a much-larger-than-normal Aerodactyl skeleton hanging fr
om the ceiling on thin cables, clawed wings powerless to fly fr
om its awkward position. Cobalt ignored it, crossed the hall to a gallery, and walked quickly up and down aisles of various junk, including a Clefairy tooth. The sickeningly sweet smell of dry wood stung his nose, and he sneezed as quietly as he could.
Nothing but crap here, he thought to himself, passing a huge exhibit of a space shuttle without a second glance.
Wonder why they’d bother hiring guards to keep this stuff safe in the first place.
Then he froze.
A Moon Stone the size of his head, shielded by glass, sat directly before him on a pedestal bolted to the ground. The dents in the gray stone caught light and threw it back in various directions, creating a sparkling, shimmering array of glory.
“That,” Cobalt breathed quietly, taking a few steps forward, “is a very pretty piece of crap. I must have it.”
He reached into his pockets and pulled out a screwdriver. Twisting it carefully in his hands, he knelt down, unscrewed the bolts, and very carefully lifted the pedestal. There, sitting quietly in a hole in the knotted wood floor, sat a tangle of red and black wires reaching up into the pedestal’s base: the alarm system, meant to sound if the glass was touched. A quick flip of the switch later, and it suddenly became harmless. Putting the pedestal back, Cobalt screwed the bolts back in, smirking.
“This is just too easy,” he chuckled.
He returned the screwdriver to its pocket, pulling out a pocketknife instead. He scraped its sharp edge along the bottom of the glass, severing its connection to the wood. After putting the knife back, he picked up the partial cube of glass, set it carefully on the floor, and scooped the shining Moon Stone into his bag. Grinning wider than before, he placed a note on the spot where it had stood second before:
This exhibit has been removed due to cleaning purposes.
It will be returned to its proper location shortly.
-Pewter Museum of Science Staff
“If there were cameras in this place, the people watching them would have to applaud me for my wondrous theft,” he said to himself, replacing the glass. “Maybe even give me a couple Oscars for that. And after I’ve served my time, I’ve suddenly been magically transported to Goldenrod Studios, and I’m in all the awesome movies. And I’m always playing the part of the ruthless but sexy burglar who murders people for no reason, and gets arrested by has a ridiculously hot Officer Jenny, who I seduce fr
om behind the bars and thus gets her badge taken away and decides to come and rescue me, but I decide — yeesh, run-on sentences. Gotta stop rambling.”
Taking a step back, he glanced over it once more, tried to find the thin line where he had cut the glass away, and failed. He swelled in pride and peeked into his bag at the Moon Stone as he swiveled around to leave.
Unfortunately for him, he tripped ungracefully on an uneven floor tile.
And smashed even more ungracefully through an exhibit displaying a variety of ancient toothpicks.
BRAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOO
Crap.
A bit shakily, he leapt to his feet and bolted for the main doors, but skidded to a halt when about thirty police officers burst through them, grim determination sketched onto their faces. “Damn toothpicks always thwarting my plans,” he muttered. He looked up at the Aerodactyl fossil, then at the window high above it. Instantly, he knew what he had to do.
He took hold of the fossil’s clawed feet and, ignoring the outraged cries fr
om the police, darted up its back lightly enough to prevent it fr
om breaking. As he gained momentum, he noticed something shiny sitting in the Aerodactyl’s skull.
Might as well snatch that too, he thought greedily, and managed to crouch down, reach through the skull’s huge eye socket, and pull out the shiny object, all without slowing his pace. He barely glanced at it as he shoved it into his bag; his eyes were only for the window several feet in front of him. As he tensed his muscles a little for the jump, he thought,
Groudon help me.
Then he leapt.
For a moment time seemed to stand still. The rest of the world had mysteriously vanished, and he and the window were the last objects in existence. Himself, moving sluggishly through the air, and the window, just sitting there, as if taunting him.
You’ll never make it, you will die. It will be painful.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Either I make it or I don’t. I won’t make it. I’ll never see Gina or the girl or Bulbasaur again. Never see it
again … The thought was unbearable.
Then something cool smashed into his head, followed by tinkling of broken glass as it shattered around his cranium. Sharp objects lodged themselves in various places on his body as it moved through the window, and despite his wincing he would have smiled in relief. However, he did not relish the idea of getting slivers of glass stuck in his gums, so he kept his lips and eyes firmly closed. Dimly, he heard cries of alarm as shards rained down on the police officers.
Finally, his head emerged into the glorious summer air. As his body followed, the sun welcomed it with strong rays of blazing light, as if in encouragement:
You did it.
“I DID IT!” he yelled triumphantly, opening his eyes and ignoring the dr
ops of blood trickling into them. He gazed up at the sun in gratitude until his eyes watered. “I REALLY DID IT! LET’S SEE WHO’S LAUGHING NOW!”
Dizzy with victory, he looked down, and the smile slid off his face as he realized that his situation was about to get a whole lot worse. He hadn’t taken into account that the window was a hundred feet above the ground, nor that there would be no one to catch him. And there was the ground, rushing up at him, as if jeering:
I’m laughing. That answer your stupid question?
“Damn it all,” he muttered.
* * *
Half an hour before noon, the gang of five was sitting at a booth in a McDonald’s, having an early lunch. Lightning, Peach, and Frosti were ravenously devouring several cheeseburgers, while Brock merely ate a simple salad. Leaf, in the meantime, was munching down a large batch of French fries, looking simultaneously famished and disgusted.
“I’m gonna utterly despise myself tomorrow,” she sighed satisfactorily, pushing the empty, salty container away. She glanced out the window casually, and jumped in shock when, for the first time, she noticed several long, wriggling weasel-like creatures digging through a trash can on the sidewalk. One of them raised its head momentarily, its eyes crossed and glazed over in pleasure as it chewed the remains of a Big Mac, before diving back into the mess.
“Ewwwww!” Lightning edged away fr
om the window as one of the long Pokemon leered at him.
“I’ll check it out,” Leaf decided, retrieving the Pokedex fr
om her bag.
“Well, I’ll be damned! Good to see that you weren’t smashed into a package of roadkill. Did I do an awesome job, or what?”
Leaf grinned. “Yeah, you did. But right now I’m asking you to identify that pack of … things … for me, before Lightning gets a heart attack.”
“It’s what I do best, I guess.” The Pokedex’s false modesty was disgustingly noticeable.
“Phrygoil, the Utterly Lame Pokemon. Gender is Male-Female-Male-Female-Male-Male-Male. Sounds like a bad orgy, if you ask me. Height is Worm, Weight is Double Cheeseburger. These retards are obsessed with fast food, McDonald’s in particular. Why that’s the case is anyone’s guess, including theirs. The IQ of an average Phrygoil is roughly equivalent to that of a McDonald’s burger patty — which actually could be quite high, considering that the cow-killing guys in the meat industry don’t do such a good job.”
Frosti snorted.
Leaf inadvertently giggled. Catching herself, she turned back to the boys. “So tell me, what exactly happened after Tyran crushed me?”
“He
almost crushed you,” Lightning corrected, swallowing another mouthful of cheeseburger. “If it hadn’t been for — Brock, push your, er, eyes back in your head!”
“Soooooo sexy …” Brock rasped, drooling, still unable to tear his eyes (assuming that he had them) away fr
om Leaf’s body. Apparently her new jeans and black tank top were doing an excellent job of turning young men into slobbering idiots.
<She’s okay, I guess,> Frosti said, shrugging as he slapped Brock in the back of the head with a shimmering Iron Tail. The attack caused the gym leader’s eyes to pop open (apparently he really did have them). They were huge, their small pupils standing out creepily against the whites.
“I said push your eyes
back in your head!” Lightning said, making a disgusted face.
“Sorry,” Brock muttered sheepishly, poking his eyes back behind his eyelids. “It’s just that no one’s ever seen my eyes before … people keep saying that I have no eyes, which is fine with me for some reason … don’t tell anyone, alright?”
“You have my word,” Leaf rasped, gagging.
“Anywhere, where was I?” Lightning asked himself thoughtfully, rubbing Peach’s head absentmindedly. “Oh yeah, I remember now. Tyran
almost crushed you. A lot of stuff happened while you were out cold…”
As the story was told, the memory resurfaced in the boys’ minds …
* * *
“LEAF!” Lightning and Ocean screamed in unison, eyes going wide at the sight of Tyran toppling down towards Leaf’s body. A fresh film of sweat trickled its way onto Lightning’s brow.
Suddenly a wave of sparkling, silvery energy swept past them, getting directly between Leaf and Tyran. It seemed to solidify into a thin gray wall. Tyran’s limp body slammed into it, creating a
thud as he and Leaf collided into the road. An anguished cry tore itself fr
om the two boys’ throats as they rushed to her side, kneeling to see how much damage had been done. The wall had kept most of Tyran’s weight off of Leaf, but his spikes had managed to puncture it and were at the moment lodged firmly in her legs. Lightning blanched and looked away.
“Officer Jenny!” he heard Brock yell. “Officer Jenny, this is Brock, we have a Tyranitar out cold here on Thirty-sixth Street, it’s got a girl pinned down and she needs medical attention, bring Joy with you … no … no, I don’t
care right now! Listen, she could be dying … I know, I know, I’ll work it out later …”
Lightning’s gaze shifted to Brock, who was now snapping his cell phone shut and looking down the street anxiously, to Fire, who was wordlessly recalling Squirtle while proudly smiling down at … Drowzee?
“Drowzee didn’t do anything …” Lightning said cautiously, as Hideki and Frosti also scuttled up to the disaster scene.
Fire’s superior smirk seemed tired, almost shallow. “That’s a laugh,” he snorted. “Who do you think was the one who just saved little Sleeping Beauty’s life? Drowzee. It was
his Hidden Power that saved her.”
Lightning’s eyes widened. “So you actually listened to us and taught him a TM?”
The smirk slid off Fire’s face. “I didn’t listen to you. I listened to the smart part of my brain – which is most of it – and decided to get him one. It’s lucky for her that Drowzee’s Hidden Power is steel-type, or else …”
He trailed off, and Lightning, glad not to hear what might have happened, let himself get distracted by a whistling ambulance and police car, which tore around the corner and screeched to a stop at the scene. Immediately people began to pour out, attempting to push Tyran off of Leaf.
“Onix, help out here,” Brock said, turning to his monstrous rocky snake. Onix slithered toward the unconscious dinosaur, wrapped her tail around his body, and with great effort tugged the enormous weight far enough for the stretcher-bearers to grab Leaf and place her onto the stretcher. Their coworkers returned Frosti, Paris, and Swampert to their Poke Balls.
“Nurse Joy!” Brock exclaimed suddenly, rushing to the back of the ambulance and delicately helping the pink-haired nurse climb outside. “Nurse Joy, you look incredibly hot today. Now listen, this girl needs to go to the Pokemon Center, not the hospital. You know she does.”
The nurse’s pale cheeks flushed crimson, but she looked him in the eye. “Pokemon Centers are for Pokemon, silly. That’s where the ‘Pokemon’ in ‘Pokemon Centers’ comes fr
om,” she giggled.
Lightning looked out at the numerous civilians, peering anxiously fr
om the windows of their homes and reshuffling their ideas about safety and security. One short, middle-aged man found the courage to step out onto his porch and clear his throat loudly. For a moment Lightning wondered if he was going to make some speech about the beauty of life and how lucky they all were, but instead he roared, “Damn you, Brock.”
Brock, wooing Nurse Joy seconds before, stiffened.
“You did about nothing to stop that damn thing! You’re not fit to be a damn gym leader!” Up and down the street, there were nods and murmurs in agreement. “When you became gym leader you damn swore that, with your incredible understanding of the damn rock type, you would be able to protect the damn city even if Regirock and Mydaruul themselves swooped down and attacked! And yet you need a pack of damn rookies just to take care of a damn Tyranitar!”
Brock flushed, a look of concern tracing lines across his forehead. "Okay, if you'll just quit using 'damn' like an exclamation point, maybe we can work this out ..."
“Wait!” Ocean exclaimed. Surprised, everyone turned their attention toward him. “It wasn’t Brock’s fault. If it hadn’t been for me, this whole thing would never have happened.”
“But—”
“No, I’m serious! It’s all my fault, I just
had to go and release Tyran in the middle of town, and that never would’ve happened if Fire hadn’t pushed Leaf, and that never would’ve happened if Leaf hadn’t been in a hurry, and that never would’ve happened if her battle with Fire hadn’t excited her, and that never would’ve happened if
my gramps hadn’t insisted that we travel together, and
that never would’ve happened if he hadn’t noticed that dangerous Pokemon on the loose are dangerous, and
that never would’ve happened he hadn’t managed to catch that raging Tyranitar! At least I know he’ll be safer now that I stole Tyran fr
om the lab—”
Ocean gasped and clapped his hands over his mouth, realizing too late his mistake. Everyone was shaking their heads disapprovingly, and many were jeering at him.
“Young man,” said a police officer gravely, “you do realize that stealing a Pokemon fr
om a professor’s lab is a capital offense in all regions, punishable by a lifetime sentence to prison?”
“Yeah, but—”
“And that an inexperienced trainer owning an extremely powerful Pokemon early on in his or her journey is likely to lose control of it?”
“Yeah, but—”
“And that losing control of said Pokemon results in destruction and devastation ninety-seven percent of the time?”
“Yes,” Ocean said impatiently, raising his voice, “but I wanted to get off to a good start! I’m planning on being a collector, and since you can’t find anything in Pallet besides bugs and birds and Magikarp, I thought that … well …” His voice shrank as he trailed off.
Officer Jenny clicked her tongue, blue hair outlining the stern look on her face. “Well, since you’re a minor we won’t arrest you. We’ll let you off with a warning … a very severe warning. If it happens again, we’ll be holding you until you’re twenty-five. Is that clear?”
“V-very,” Ocean mumbled, sneezing loudly.
“In the meantime, we’ll be taking you into custody. We’ll phone your grandfather about the situation, and you won’t be able to leave until you’ve written ‘I will not let my selfish concerns put the people around me in danger, because otherwise I will be arrested and that is not my goal in life’, two thousand times. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” Ocean replied meekly, his fingers twitching as if they already ached fr
om writing. He walked towards the police car, his head hung dejectedly. Lightning felt a pang of sympathy, seeing the shame he must be wading in. Just before Ocean disappeared into the shadowy vehicle, Lightning saw Tyran’s Poke Ball, which hung fr
om the spiky-haired boy’s belt, disintegrate into a small pile of reddish dust.
And thus ends Ocean’s ownership of the brute, he thought to himself.
“Well, even if the damn kid
was the one who set the damn Tyranitar loose, it doesn’t change the damn fact that Brock couldn’t subdue the damn thing!” the middle-aged civilian declared loudly, and his fellow civilians murmured in agreement. “The damn girl was the one who really managed it. If it wasn’t for her damn Swampert, the short kid’s damn Pichu wouldn’t have been able to knock it out!”
“I agree!” someone else shouted. “She should be the gym leader, not that squinty-eyed wannabe! Let’s stone Brock! Let’s stone Brock!”
The chant was quickly picked up on. “Let’s stone Brock! Let’s stone Brock! Let’s stone Brock!”
“Wait!” Lightning yelled, distracting the chanters. “There’s a simple way to solve this. If Leaf really
was the one to defeat Tyran, and Brock defeats
her in a gym battle, then Brock is capable of defending Pewter!”
“What do you know about these things?” Fire sneered. “You’re just a lame coordinator.”
“He’s got a point,” said Officer Jenny. “A battle it is. If Brock wins, he stays as gym leader and gives Leaf the Boulder Badge to help her continue on her journey. She deserves it after saving us, anyway. If Leaf wins, though …” she trailed off.
And it was agreed.
* * *
“So that’s it, then,” Leaf muttered, after the boys had finished. “Whether I win or lose, I still get the badge.”
“Yeah.” Brock picked at his salad darkly, scowling. “You’ll probably want to win. Then I’ll be out of a job.”
Leaf snorted. “No way. I can’t just train a bunch of Geodude to crush a bunch of noobs’ dreams. That’s your calling, not mine. I have to lose.”
“Well, this should be interesting,” Lightning commented sideways to Peach. “Required to lose. That hasn’t been seen before.”
Brock rolled his eyes. “How would you know? You’re just a coordinator. But it
will be interesting, I guess. Unfortunately for us, my normal referee if vacationing somewhere, and the sub is more than likely to be biased in your favor.”
The girl blanched. “Tough.”
Brock nodded tiredly. “The match is in ten minutes. The Pokemon Center called everyone after you checked out. Everyone’s probably in the gym already, ready to watch.”
“
Ten minutes?” Leaf leapt to her feet and recalled Frosti. “What are we still doing here? We’ll barely get there in time!”
Brock (possibly) blinked several times before stiffening. “Oh, crap, you’re right. What am I thinking? We gotta boogie.”
Lightning raised an eyebrow. “Did you seriously just say ‘boogie’?”
But the others were already heading out the glass door. The blond boy sighed, picked up another cheeseburger, and took a large bite as he got up to follow them.
* * *
The interior of Pewter Gym was as dark as its exterior suggested. A few florescent lights hung fr
om the high ceiling, bathing the boulder-studded gym floor in pale light. Along the sides were several bleachers, packed with expectant spectators. Brock sweatdr
opped nervously as he waved at them. “It’s never been so full in here,” he explained, as he and Leaf made their way towards the battlefield. “It makes for some serious psychopathical influence.”
Leaf shot him a look. “You mean ‘psychological influence’.”
“That too. Now remember, we have to act like you’re trying to win, even though you’re not. But at the same time, you have to be careful not to actually win. Okay?”
“Okay …”
Meanwhile, Lightning was walking in front of the bleachers, Peach on his shoulder as usual. He casually looked up at the people sitting in them, until three familiar faces caught his eye. Grinning, he waved frantically, to catch their attention. One of them waved back, but Lightning had already begun the trek up the “stairs”, stepping on several people unintentionally.
“Ocean! Good to see ya, buddy!” he exclaimed, seating himself at the spiky-haired boy’s feet. He grinned charmingly at the blue-haired young woman sitting next to him, a forced look of sternness on her face. “Hi, Officer. What brings you out here?”
“He wanted to watch the match,” Officer Jenny replied shortly. “And he needed an escort while he’s still in custody. So, naturally, I was picked for the menial job.”
“Ah.” Lightning turned to the boy on her other side. “And Mr. Hero himself. Really, Fire, what are you doing here? I thought you could ‘barely care’ for rival trainers.”
“I figured that it would be amusing,” Fire said coldly, fixing his gaze intently on the gym floor.
“Ignore hib,” Ocean sighed. “Let hib babble by hibself. Is Leav okay?”
“Yeah, she’s good. You catch a cold?”
Ocean sneezed. “You dink? Id was vrom Swabberd’s Whirlbool. Id sblashed all ober be ad now I’b sick. I have de worst luck, dod’t you dink?”
Lightning edged away slightly to avoid any snot projectiles. “Yes. Yes, I do think so. Did they say where’d they take Tyran?”
Ocean smiled weakly. “'Away vrom here’ is as glose as dey’d reveal. Dey didn’t wad me doo go ‘charging avter hib’.”
“Damn right,” muttered the Officer.
A wave of cheering swept over the audience as Brock and Leaf took their places on opposite sides of the gym. The substitute referee walked towards the center of the field, and suddenly numerous fangirl screams erupted fr
om the spectators, not to mention fr
om Leaf herself. The referee, a teenager, wore a red helmet that didn’t quite hide his longish mahogany hair, and his glasses glinted as the light hit them. His gray vest and cargo pants were a striking contrast to his black shirt and boots.
Leaf glared at Brock. “You nerd!” she yelled, barely heard over all the noise. “You didn’t tell me that the ref was Roark!”
Brock shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”
“Yeah, but why’s he here?”
“I’ll tell you later.” Brock looked toward the referee, his fingers twitching as if anxious to begin already.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Roark’s voice was like a wave of chocolate after one has chugged down a gallon of vinegar. Instantly the applause died down. “It’s my pleasure to ref this battle. Gym leader Brock Harrison of Pewter City will battle challenger Leaf McKenzie of Pallet Town. The rules: two Pokemon each, one at a time. Either side may switch out at any time. Battlers, choose your Pokemon!”
As cheers erupted fr
om the audience, Roark turned and walked off of the battlefield, which is always an efficient method for avoiding skull-shattering attacks fr
om Pokemon, even if one is wearing a helmet. The boy winked at Leaf, who blushed, mortified.
Great. My hair’s a mess, and I bet my shoes are tacky. He’s probably just psyching me out. In her mind, she saw herself dressed in a potato sack, while several cute boys laughed silently at her.
“C’mon out!” Leaf was pulled back to reality as Brock tossed his Poke Ball. In a flash of neon-red light, an utterly bizarre-looking Pokemon appeared on the rocky battlefield. The Pokemon’s deep purple body seemed to be suctioned to the floor, while its bell-shaped “head”, decorated with yellow circles, contained a darkness in which only two glowing yellow eyes could be seen. Oddly, several pinkish tentacles protruded fr
om its head.
“Hoo, boy,” the Pokedex whistled, sticking out fr
om Leaf’s partially open bag.
“It’s like these Pokemon are just setting themselves up for humiliation. Lileep, the Slime Pokemon. Gender is Male. Well, that’s obvious, look at all the tubes sticking out of there! Height is Stick, Weight is Butterball. This Pokemon may look antisocial, but actually the opposite is true. Because really, how else would they get into so many orgies? I mean, all of his creepy little boyfriends left the tubes sticking out of him! How sloppy can you get?”
The Lileep’s purple “head” slowly turned a furious magenta.
“Honestly, Pokedex, what is with you and orgies?” Leaf paused for a brief moment before tossing out a Poke Ball of her own. “Frosti, give him a taste of your Ember!”
Materializing in midair, the small orange lizard spat several small flames before landing smoothly on the ground. Most of the flames easily made contact with the … whatever Lileep was. Lileep shrieked as the flames danced on his body for a few seconds, before vanishing in thin wisps of smoke.
Frosti glanced around proudly for a moment before suddenly noticing the number of people watching. <Leaf …> he whispered nervously.
"What?"
<I can’t fight in front of all these people?> He bit his lip as he looked nervously fr
om one intent gaze to the next.
“Show him your Astonish!”
“Frosti, this is no time for being shy!” Leaf yelled, intentionally adding a bit of desperation in her tone to keep the audience thinking that she wanted to win. “You need to work with me here!”
<Well, can you tell all those morons up there to work with me by turning to each other all at once and talking about nothing in particular?> Frosti wrung his hands, completely oblivious to the fact that Lileep was sneaking up on him.
“Frosti, you have to get over your fear of staring eyes! Lileep is—”
<Graaaaaaaggggggh!> Lileep roared, suddenly jumping up and slamming into Frosti faster than one would think possible. His yellow eyes glowed an evil light, and his tentacles dug into Frosti’s face in a decidedly unwholesome matter. He then suddenly backed off, feeling rather smug.
Tears slid down Frosti’s cheeks. <I hate life,> he sniffed.
Leaf put her hands on her hips. “Honestly, Frosti. Just pretend that they’re all made of cardboard, and you can burn them all up when you’re done. Iron Tail.”
Frosti hesitantly wiped the tears away, grinned weakly at the mental image, and rushed at Lileep, his tail glowing silver. The dazzling light lit up the entire gym, and people sat forward in their seats and watched in awe as the tail whipped through the air majestically. Lileep was unable to move, fixed to the floor as he was, and yet even he was unable to believe it when Frosti’s Iron Tail swung down and missed by a country mile.
“What?” was all Leaf could say, as Frosti quit moving and looked at his tail, which was fading to its normal orange.
“You forget that Iron Tail is inaccurate and, therefore, unreliable,” Brock said fr
om across the field, taking care to inflect his tone with arrogance for sake of the viewers. “Lileep, use Acid.”
<I failed,> Frosti moaned, slamming his tail down on the ground as if this was all its fault. However, he had forgotten that it was attached to his butt, so he ended up getting an unflattering bruise.
<Bleeeeeeccchh!> Lileep retched up a stream of sickly purple stomach acid, which cascaded disgustingly onto Frosti’s body.
<Eeew!> Frosti made a horrified face as he hastily brushed off the putrid contents of Lileep’s stomach. <Leaf, I can’t do this!>
“It’s not that hard! You’re a great babbler – I mean, battler – but you’re letting the audience psych you out! Can’t you work with me here?”
<No.> Frosti sat down hard on the ground, wincing as his bruise made contact.
“It appears that Leaf is having trouble with her Charmander,” Roark said over the noise of the restless audience. “I’m tempted to give her a penalty shot at Brock, since Acid is an advanced move.”
“This isn’t soccer, Roark! You know we don’t have penalties!” Brock shot back tensely.
Roark shrugged. “Nevertheless.”
Beads of sweat lined up along Leaf’s forehead.
Brock was right, she thought, watching the gym leader consider his next move.
He needs to end this. Fast.
“Rock Tomb!”
“Frosti …”
Frosti stuck his nose in the air and turned away fr
om her – just in time to see Lileep advancing quickly toward him, carrying a bunch of large rocks in his tentacles.
<Oh … crap.>
<Raauugh Draaauuughhhauuughh!> Lileep shoved the rocks into Frosti’s surprised face. The breathless audience watched as the same-type attack bonus and super effectiveness stacked up, causing far more damage than was rational.
Frosti’s large black eyes crossed, and he grinned dazedly. Pointing at nothing in particular, he chuckled, <Leaf, Leaf, look at all the little birdies.>
Then he fainted.
Roark opened his mouth, tried to think of something that would make Brock’s latest move illegal, and failed miserably. Instead he yelled over the grudging applause, “Charmander has fainted! Leaf, please se
lect your second Pokemon.”
Poor Frosti, Leaf sighed, recalling her unconscious lizard. Placing his ball back on her belt, she took a moment to consider her options.
Well, Paris is still a bit young for this kind of fighting. And I can’t use Cheri, because then everyone will know that I’m not trying to win. Looks like I’ll have to use—
“Swampert! Wipe up the floor with that thingy with your Whirlpool!”
As the massive mudfish materialized, everyone oohed and ahhed at his magnificent muscles. Clearly, they had been expecting something much less impressive than this.
“Holy …!” Roark stood up straighter. “A Swampert! Now
that’s not something you see with a beginner every day! Or any day, actually ...”
As he had done yesterday, Swampert lifted his thick arms, conjuring water into existence. The flashy waves whirled around his limbs for a moment before he sent them flying at Lileep. Being rather stupid, the strange Pokemon didn’t see its danger until too late.
<Braaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuugggggghhhhh!> it moaned. Then, without warning, it also fainted. It just flopped down on its face and lights out.
The audience went wild.
“
There's some good fighting!" Roark exclaimed, eyeing the water-type with approval. “Lileep has fainted! We are down to one each! Who will Brock send out?”
“My star!” Brock replied, smirking triumphantly. If Leaf had not been planning to lose, she would have suddenly become afraid. Very afraid.
Swampert was huge; standing nearly as tall as Leaf, there was no denying that. However, the gigantic Pokemon that appeared on before him made the Swampert look like a bug. Onix’s segmented stone body uncoiled itself, and the rock snake Pokemon grinned menacingly. She dipped her horned head, ready to attack.
“Seriously, I don’t have to work on this anymore. Why do you even bother asking me? I kid, I kid. Onix, the Tongue Pokemon. Gender is Female. Height is Big, Weight is Nine Houses. Onix digs deep into the ground, and the pressure makes its body as hard as a rock. It also makes its brain as hard as a rock, because it randomly has a magnet in it. Gives new meaning to the term ‘animal magnetism’, eh? And when a guy says he has a big Onix, it’s easy to see what he’s talking ab—”
“Pokedex, behave yourself,” Leaf growled warningly.
“You humans have no sense of humor,” the Pokedex muttered sullenly.
Meanwhile, up in the bleachers, a different sort of drama was occurring. Lightning had been watching the watch casually, minding his own business, when the kid sitting next to him turned and started talking to him, for the sole reason that he was the closest person.
“Hi! I like shorts!” the kid said. His appearance was mostly nondescript, except for the fact that next to him, Lightning looked like a giant. “Shorts are fun! They’re comfy and easy to wear!”
Lightning glanced at the boy’s shorts. They looked all right, but surely that was nothing to get excited over.
“OOOOOOOOHHHHHH! You have shorts too!” the boy squealed suddenly, grabbing at the front of Lightning’s white shorts and rubbing it between his fingers. “So silky and smooth! You lucky boy. You know,” he added seriously, looking the shocked Lightning in the eye, “when I first walked in here,
my shorts were silky and smooth, too. But when I started talking to you, they started feeling really icky and coarse. Isn’t that weird?” He got back to examining the shorts too closely.
Lightning, who was rapidly getting paler and paler, was too traumatized to do anything. Peach, on the other hand, had been growing a deep, furious purple, until finally she decided to deal with this kid who had the nerve to harass her sweet Lightning. She climbed onto Lightning’s head, faced Officer Jenny, and ignored her indignant remark as she hit the buttons on two of her Poke Balls. A second later, two fiery, striped puppy Pokemon appeared next to her, their fluffy cream-colored tails wagging in anticipation.
<What can we do ya for, kid?> the slightly taller Growlithe asked, wrinkling his black, wet nose.
<Officer, this
punk is harrassing my trainer!> Peach yelled. <Kill him and bury the evidence far away fr
om here!>
The smaller Growlithe shifted uncomfortably. <We don’t kill people. But we
do kill Igglybuff. That’s a hella lotta fun, anyway.>
<C’mon, you have to do SOMETHING!>
The Growlithe looked at each other. <She’s right,> the taller one sighed, <we do. Shame, that. I was hopin’ to call in sick.>
The two squared their shoulders before leaping onto the strange boy, fangs bared. What happened next is generally best left open to the viewer’s imagination.
Lightning turned away fr
om the bloody scene, picked up Peach, and hugged her warmly. “Thanks, Peach,” he murmured. “That’s all I can think of to say.”
Peach grinned and hugged him back.
On the battlefield, the victor was decided shockingly fast. Swampert raised his arms to perform another whirlpool, but unlike her uncivilized teammate, Onix recognized what he was preparing to do, and was ready for him. Before he could summon more water, she had pinned his arms to his sides with a crushing Bind. Swampert wheezed for air, and suddenly Leaf remembered his scar.
“Stop!” she cried. “I forfeit!” She cringed inwardly as every eye in the gym turned towards her. “I’d forgotten that he’d been injured before. He shouldn’t be fighting so hard.”
That was so stupid of me, she thought.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could that slip my mind? Even Paris would stand more chance against Onix.
Onix looked towards her trainer, who sighed and recalled her. Swampert gasped as he collapsed to the ground, but seemed to be breathing almost normally.
Roark flushed. Obviously this was not what he had intended to happen. “Er ... Leaf has forfeited! By default, Brock wins this battle and will keep his position as gym leader!”
Cheers swept through the gym, echoing deafeningly. As people began to get up and leave, Leaf rushed to Swampert’s side. “Oh, Swampert, I’m so, so sorry! I completely forgot—”
<It’s all right,> he muttered, slowly getting to his feet and dusting himself off. He traced the scar on his torso, wincing as he did so. <It’s my—>
“Leaf?” Startled, the girl looked up. It was Brock, standing above her and holding something out towards her. “Seeing as you were the one who saved Pewter fr
om Tyran, I am proud to present you with your very own Boulder Badge. Plus my complimentary TM, of course.”
A bit hesitantly, Leaf accepted them. The small, silvery octagon felt cold in her palm, and seemed to shine with a light of its own. The TM sat in its brown, transparent plastic case, the words “TM39: Rock Tomb” inscribed on the bottom. Feeling proud, she put both of them into her bag.
“Hello, Leaf.” Roark had decided to join them. Now that he was up close, she could smell something faint and sharp on his person. Was it some sort of mineral? Whatever it was, she liked it. “That was an impressive fight you put up there. Pity you had to forfeit.” He smiled pleasantly.
“Uh, thank you.” A bit of color sprung to life on her cheeks. She desperately hoped that he hadn’t noticed.
Swampert lifted his head and examined Roark, almost critically, as if he had just noticed him.
“I’d like to ask you a personal question … if you don’t mind, of course.”
Leaf nodded.
He’s going to ask me out, I know it, I know it. YES! You are a hot kid, young lady. Now just play it cool. “Ask away.”
“Gladly.” His face abruptly hardened into a scowl. “I’d like to ask how you got your hands on my Swampert.”
* * *
Author's Note: Info on Phrygoil
Phrygoil
Type: Normal
Classification: Weasel Pokemon
Height: 4'6"
Weight: 12.7 lbs
Abilities: Thick Fat/Liquid Ooze
Egg Groups: Ground/Water 3
Gender: 50% male, 50% female
Color: Yellow
Catch Rate: 255
Evolution: Phrygoil --> (level 20) --> ???
Essentially, Phrygoil is Kerothyu's equivalent of Rattata. Of course, it's very different from its peers, both in physiology and mentally. It's obsessed with fast food, and yes, I based it off a french fry. XP
