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A Winkle in Reality: Chapter 12.
🕑 Added 2025-06-02 15:00:09 +0000 UTCStill speedrunning the passage of time. Also, a look into a complicated man.
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The office was dark, a single sharp fluorescent lamp on the large wooden desk facing the door. It was an old tactic. Limit the visibility of the other party, shroud yourself in darkness and mystery, and establish the balance of power. It had been used to great effect during the war. Many prisoners had cracked after only mild interrogation due to such tricks.
Humans were simple creatures. Whether war, politics, business, or casual acquaintance, there were only so many emotions and responses. The degree of severity had to be adjusted based on the conversation, yet the strategies themselves rarely did. It was the main reason the desk was as huge as it was, and made of Fiore Oak. Hideously expensive and almost impossible to import, but the display of casual wealth gave the image he wanted. It also sent a message.
Shifting his Vileplume cigar, he lightly ran his fingers over the lacquered dark wood. It almost brought a smile to his face, knowing that the largest species of oak in the world had been cut down for his convenience. The mighty Oak, brought low by money, influence, and time.
It was almost prophetic.
The Tauros leather chair creaked as he leaned back, the incredibly high back towering over his head. Another power play, like the bright Charizard hide suit he wore. The chair was comfortable enough, but the suit burned his eyes everytime he had to put it on. A small sacrifice at the end of the day, but an annoyance nonetheless.
The phone on the desk rang. Letting it go for just over four rings, he hit the speaker button.
“Yes.”
Not a question. A statement. A superior did not ask, he commanded.
“Sir, Executive Proton is here for you.”
“Send him in.”
It would take less than a minute for the Executive to traverse the hallways that led from the reception to the office. His black eyes scanned everything again. The light was dim, the chairs had been removed from in front of the desk to signal the lack of hospitality, a Froslass lurked in the corner to lower the temperature and give an ominous feeling. Everything was in place.
Just in time too, as a knock rang out from the door. Counting to six, he subtly straightened while still appearing casual and answered firmly, but without raising his voice.
“Enter.”
The door opened and the teal haired man entered. The failure didn't even dare to meet his eyes, dropping down to one knee as soon as the door closed seemingly by itself behind him.
A small threat that there was an active Pokémon in there with them.
He remained silent for a moment, lifting the cigar to his lips and leaning down to his right. His friend stopped rubbing his face against his leg and cracked open its jaws. A thin beam of fire shot from the Persian's mouth and lit the tip of the cigar. Proton flinched at the flash of light, giving him a feeling of satisfaction. It felt good, making men like Proton fear his mere presence. A far cry from the sneers they used to send his way.
Scratching Persian behind the ears, the big feline let out an exaggerated purr that almost crossed into a growl. Proton flinched again.
“Explain to me,” he began slowly, dragging out the words to prolong the moment, “how exactly you managed to be such a colossal failure? It was a simple task.”
He ignored most of the man's sputtering attempts to make up excuses to soothe his ego. He had already read the report and had teams search the destroyed lab. There had long been rumors of a powerful Psychic on the Orange Islands. The fact that it could, or would, organize such an attack was a surprise, but there was little Proton could have done against such overwhelming odds. The loss of the Sevii base was regrettable and so were the wasted resources that went into keeping it secret even from the majority of Team Rocket, but few truly had the stomach to know exactly what sacrifices progress required.
The cost was significant, in men, Pokémon, money, and especially potential. His researchers had not managed to figure out exactly what Pokémon was in the Titan egg, but they were fairly certain it was dragonic in nature. Given that it was found near Blackthorn, there were only so many possibilities.
Losing a Titan Dragonite was not something easily forgiven.
“Enough.” He declared. Silence hung over them for a moment as he let Proton stew in his misery, before continuing. “I don't care for your excuses. You will be making this up to me.”
His Executive nodded furiously and promised the world in return for leniency. That was good. There was little he could actually do to punish Proton. So much hinged on the older families' support. He couldn’t be seen being too harsh on one of their heirs. Not yet, anyway. He could, however, drag as much money as possible out of them, bleeding them dry until the time came.
“Report to Arianna in Celadon until further notice. You will likely be sent to Hoenn to aid our comrades there. Dismmised.”
He could see that the idea didn't sit well with Proton. The man had an extremely high opinion of himself and the thought of roughing it in the Hoenn wilderness must have gnawed at him.
As intended.
The door had barely closed behind the Executive before he threw the cigar at Froslass to devour, the lit stick disappearing into the shadows. Persian leaned away from him with a disgusted growl, sneezing several times in protest.
The sacrifices they made for power.
But soon, it would all be worth it. He swiveled around in his chair to look at the map behind him. Red dots covered large parts of Kanto and Sinnoh was not far behind, with a lesser but still decent and ever-growing amount in Johto and Hoenn.
It was almost time. Just a little more and 30 years of planning would come to fruition. After all the sacrifices and setbacks, the mocking and patronizing. Everything would finally be as it should be.
He smiled at the thought. It was a rare thing for him to do, but he was so close.
Soon, nothing and no one could stop him. Not the spineless League politicians. Not the Blackthorn brat disgracing the throne of Indigo. Not that fucking cowardly traitor Oak.
The world would finally realize its rightful place.
At the feet of Giovanni.
—--------------------------------
The keys clicked and clacked as I pounded away at the keyboard. The interface was fairly simple to navigate, reminding me of Windows back home, but calling the PC cluttered was understating it. Treatises on the divergent evolutionary paths of Oddish and the possible shared ancestry with Roselia laid in the same file as birthday emails from CEO's and pictures of a younger Oak in bathing trunks on the beach.
It was a fucking mess of unorganised shit, and if I hadn’t gotten to know Oak over the last three months, I would've thought it was deliberate.
But no, he was just a chaotic person that thrived in his own mess. Though he should really close his computer when he was done with it.
The office was dark as I searched around for anything useful. It was the middle of the night, and the Professor had for once gone to bed at a reasonable time, on the back of a 30 hour work marathon. I’d seen my chance when Gary had to support him as he stumbled towards his room, slipping out of my own several hours later, leaving Betty snoozing on the large bed Oak had gotten for her in my room.
I’d tried to let it go. I’d tried to dedicate myself to the Pokémon of the reserve, to Siren and Betty, to focus on school, but I couldn’t. No matter how much I meditated, no matter how much I exhausted myself everyday, it gnawed at me, a dark shadow lurking in the back of my mind.
How many people were dying? How many Pokémon were suffering at the hands of the fucks while I sat around and played kid? How could I fucking sleep when the Rockets were out there, doing their shit unopposed?
The PokéNet, which was a real thing, hadn’t been particularly helpful. There were news reports of robberies, both of stores and of Pokémon, but few were attributed to Team Rocket, and the ones that were downplayed the group. A “petty group of criminals”, a “couple of disgruntled lowlifes”. There was no way they actually believed that.
Either the League was deliberately downplaying it, or the Rockets had their fingers in the media as well.
The online forums had been a little more helpful, but only just. They at least agreed that Team Rocket was a serious problem, dozens if not hundreds of people gathering together to share their stories. Being attacked on the less patrolled roads or in the wilderness, Pokémon theft, scams, fraud. Basically every crime under the sun could be found on the forum. Yet, if anything, they somewhat oversteered from the media. Everything, no matter how small or confusing, was placed at the Rockets feet. Someone selling fake evolutionary stones? Team Rocket. The Pokémon you had your eye on was caught right in front of you? Team Rocket. You stubbed your toe on a rock? Team Rocket placed that rock there. I understood the urge, but it wasn't very conductive to actually make people take them seriously. The enthusiasm of the online community had kind of driven Team Rocket into the conspiracy category.
Maybe that was on purpose? Maybe the more rabid of the forum people were Rocket plants, trying to make their victims seem delusional?
I leaned back in the worn office chair and rubbed my eyes. I was starting to sound like the lunatics I was critiquing. Maybe it was time to stop. I couldn’t find where the fuck Oak had stored the League files he surely had access to.
“Not finding what you were looking for?”
The lights switched on. Standing in the doorway, having entered without me noticing, stood Professor Oak, looking remarkably awake for a man supposed to be asleep.
“Ehh,” was my clever comeback, “I thought you were sleeping.” Great excuse, Peri, he'd definitely let you off the hook with that.
“Oh I was. Nothing like resting after a productive session. Imagine my surprise when not only Gengy, but Aly as well, notified me that you were snooping around.”
His shadow withered at his words, eyes and a large grinning mouth briefly forming. Son of a bitch, was that thing still following me!?
“Aly?” I asked, trying to buy time.
“I suppose the two of you haven't met. My Alakazam.” Space distorted at his side, a whirlpool twisting the fabric of existence as a Pokémon teleported in. I barely had time to take in the smoothness of the technique, or the yellow and black body of the very thin, feline faced Pokémon suddenly in the room with us, long mustache twitching as it looked at me, before it was gone again. “He doesn't like people much. He prefers tinkering in his lab.”
The Professor stared at me after finishing speaking, face neutral. Not good.
“I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have-”
“I let you into my home.” Oak interrupted me. “I've shared my food, my knowledge. I let you take care of the Pokémon and attend my school despite having thousands of applicants. And you repay me like this.”
My ears burned with shame, eyes locked on the floor.
“I'm not going to ask what you were looking for. I can guess. I even understand why you did it. What I don't understand is what you will do with the information. If you found some clue, a possible location of a base, what was the plan? Were you going to charge straight at them with a young Feebas and a newly hatched Bagon, Titan natured she might be? Please, explain.”
“I don't know,” I mumbled to the wooden boards. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so close to my physical age. “I just had to do something.”
“Peri.” The Professor sighed, moving from the door to crouch in front of me so I was forced to look at him. I was reminded of the first time we met. “You are a child, who's not even a Trainer yet. I understand, I truly do, but you can't do this.”
“Then who is, huh!?” I wasn't fair to the man, he had been nothing but kind and helpful, but the frustration bubbled over. “The League!? They barely admit they exist! The Rangers are corrupt, maybe the media too! Who's gonna do something!? You!? You keep saying you understand, but you can't!”
Silence fell over us again after my rant. I was about to apologize when the Professor started talking slowly.
“I understand, because Team Rocket has taken much from me too. I won't go into it, but suffice to say, the Rockets have had their fingers in more than a few of my personal problems and tragedies. Don't ask,” he preemptively cut me off, “I won't tell. Nor can you tell Gary. I won't have him grow the same obsession as you.”
I nodded mutely, a fresh wave of shame washing over me. I hadn't known that. Mentioning Gary didn't leave much room for interpretation. Gary's parents, much like Ash's father, weren't touched on in canon.
“It's because I understand that I'm telling you this. You have to find some sort of peace with it. I know,” he really wasn't letting me get a word in, ”I know. It seems impossible. Some days it is. But what is the alternative? Stewing in your hatred day after day, blind to the people around you? Pushing everyone away for the sake of your crusade? What about after? If you did take down Team Rocket and you find yourself all alone, what then? Take it from an old man who has seen too much. Violence only breeds violence. You attack them, they come to hate you, they attack you, your hatred grows. Where does it stop? How many graves, friend and foe, are you prepared to dig for this?”
I didn't have an answer. I understood his point, and even agreed somewhat. The thought of Siren, of Betty, getting hurt because I couldn't let it go…
“I would like you to talk to a therapist. A trustworthy one,“ he dismissed my concerns before I could even voice them, “an old friend of mine. She's very good, and discreet.”
I wasn't in any place to disagree at the moment, even if I wanted too. It did, however, touch a different concern that I had.
“So you're not gonna kick me out?”
He sighed. “No. I'm not going to kick you out. You're going to be mucking the Tauros stables for the next many months and I expect you to attend every meeting with the therapist, but yes, you can stay.”
Tension leaked from my body as I collapsed in my chair.
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Now, why don't you go make us some coffee since we're both up. I've been meaning to study Noctowl mating habits and it's the season.”
He patted me on the shoulder as I nodded and got up to get the caffeine. The Professor didn't mention anything when it took a couple minutes longer than necessary.
I had a lot to think about.
—-----------------------
“Good morning Peri!”
Breakfast was already in full swing when I descended the stairs. Delia was cooking up a storm by the stove, eggs, sausage, and bacon flying onto large plates on the table. It had been quite a revelation to learn that humans actually ate Pokémon. Most kept to the various grain and artificially created substitutes, and when venturing into the carnivorous it was mostly Pidgey eggs or the elderly that were near the end of their life, but it was a thing for rich people.
Thankfully Oak was loaded and preferred locally sourced, non violently obtained versions. Chansey eggs, Moomoo milk, vegetables, and Ditto meat was the usual menu. The Professor had gone on a rant about the technological marvel of the transforming, sentient, bubblegum and lamented Cinnabar's unwillingness to share how they made it. He had some unflattering things to say about Blaine, the Gym Leader of Cinnabar and leader of the Lab over there. Apparently they had some history.
I grunted in acknowledgment at the greeting, floating down into my chair at the far end of the dinner table. Gary and Ash were already going at it, the Ketchums joining the Oaks for breakfast and dinner more often than not, so Delia could make sure Gary, and the Professor, actually got something to eat other than cereal. Said Professor was nose deep in a newspaper at the other end of the table, ignoring the racket the children he was caught between was causing.
“What's got you so pissy, huh? Finally realized that you can't steal actual talent? I'd have thought even Orre scum like you would have known that.”
To say Gary had been upset over me having a Titan Pseudo-Legendary, not that they were called such, would be an understatement. Sure, he'd always been a dickhead and we'd never been friends or even cordial with each other, but after Betty hatched, he'd become straight up antagonistic. I'd overheard him begging his grandfather about getting a Titan of his own as a starter, but get turned down.
Which only made him angrier, convinced that I’d stolen the egg somewhere.
“Not in the mood Gary.” I mumbled, shoveling food in my mouth and chewing without tasting it, scowling at the table.
“Yeah, leave him alone Gary!” At least Ash had my back, when he wasn't bombarding me with questions I didn't want to answer. True to form, he’d reacted with cheerfulness when he met Betty, after a brief bout of jealousy of his own. Annoying dumbass he might be, but I couldn’t deny that he was a decent person.
“Stay out of it, loser. Not my fault the golden boy is having another fit over whatever. Probably assaulting a random civilian or something messed up.”
My hands clenched around the cutlery. “Gary, I'm warning you. Stop.”
“Yes Gary, that's enough. Eat your food before it gets cold.” Delia, delightful woman that she was, cut in, placing another plate bulging with food on the table.
Gary held up his hands in fake innocence. “I'm just saying, we don't know what kinda things he did. Probably murdered someone or got them killed-”
SMACK!
“PERI!”
The youngest Oak fell backwards out of his chair with a cry of pain as my fist smashed into his nose. I barely heard Delia's outburst, or Ash's, or the Professor's as I charged out through the door to the hallway and further out to the reserve.
I scrubbed my face with my hands as I power walked. I didn't even greet Siren as she came to say hi to me, simply sucking her into her ball and clipping it next to Betty’s, before spinning on my heel and marching back past the Lab and down to Pallet Town proper. I ignored the waves and words of the people I'd met a couple of times over the last year, blind to everything except my destination. The hills and farms passed by in a blur, and before I knew it, I was flopping down into the sand by the shore.
I shouldn't have done that. Yeah, Gary was an asshole, and punching him felt fucking great, but he wasn't even 12 years old yet. Smacking children for being rude wasn't a great look. Usually I just fired back, but today…
I sighed and grabbed my Pokéballs. Two clicks and flashes later, I was joined by the only beings I wanted to spend time with at the moment. Siren materialized in the sea, looking around confused by her change in surroundings before recognizing where we were. I hadn't talked about the day coming up, yet I saw the spark of realization in her droopy eyes. A frown of concentration darkened her features, lips pressed together tightly. She wobbled in the water, rocking back and forth in a way I would've thought to be the waves, yet the ocean was near mirror calm. The rocking intensified and she drew closer to the shore, more and more of her body exposed as she left the sea behind. A smile broke through my dark mood when I saw that she was hovering an inch over the sand, dipping occasionally to brush the grains, yet never falling. I held out my arms for her, letting her show off and make the journey on her own.
“Look at you,” I praised as she fell into my arms with one last jerk, letting out a deep sigh of exhaustion, “getting so strong and big. Can't believe my girls are growing up so fast.”
It was true. Siren had grown nearly 60% since she hatched, around one and a half feet in length. My research told me that much like Magicarp, Feebas grew slower than almost any other Water-Type, in both size and strength. Her progress showed her determination.
Though she wasn't the one with the biggest growth, I was reminded as a second Pokémon smashed into me with a cry. It was only 9 months of training that held her back enough to not send me flying, and even then it was close.
“NO! Betty, no teeth!” I managed to get a hand on her snout to keep her jaws away. She screeched sadly, collapsing onto her ass in the sand, looking like I just killed her parents. Said overreaction immediately disappeared when I scratched her under the chin and she scrambled to her feet, sniffing up a storm as she inspected the new area.
If Siren's growth had been impressive to witness, then Betty’s was mind-blowing. She’d been a little over a foot in height upon hatching and less than a year later, she was closing in on three feet and weighing a staggering 330 pounds. Dragon-Types grew slowly, reaching full maturity typically at the age of 15-20, if not older. As was often the case, the most rapid growth was seen in the first couple of years before slowing down as it approached the maximum, so the explosive rate her size was increasing at should be slowing down, but how much did that really matter when she was already bigger than a Bagon 30 times her age?
The average Salamence was around 18 feet from head to snout. The way Betty was going, I'd not be surprised if she reached 60.
Behemoth truly was the right name for her.
Her personality, on the other hand, hadn't changed as much. Picking up a loose rock from the sand, I lightly threw it at her when I saw her approaching a frantically fleeing Caterpie, jaws opened wide.
“Betty, no. Bad girl.”
The distraction of having to look back at me with a wounded expression gave the Bug-Type time to slunk into the undergrowth and vanish from the hungry dragon. I didn’t enjoy using force to make my Pokémon listen to me, light as it was, but it truly was the only way.
Dragon-Types lived by the expression ‘Might Makes Right’. Even with the parental bond we shared from being the first thing she saw upon hatching, she rarely listened to me without me having to physically get her to do so. According to Oak, it was how the rare Dragon-Types that actually took the time to raise their spawn taught them as well, though they were much less concerned about it.
She never took it personally either, as evidenced by her eyes lighting up when she spotted a large boulder. She charged at it, feet kicking up sprays of sand behind her, and let out a high pitched war cry as she lowered her head.
BONK!
She feel on her ass again, shaking her head dazedly as I winched, both at the impact and the small cracks in the stone.
The bone plates covering her head were nothing to sneeze at. She shook off what would’ve concussed or outright killed any human and tried her best to scramble up the rock without fingers.
“She's still a menace, huh?”
Not believing my ear I turned to gaze over my shoulder. Sure e-fucking-nough, Gary motherfucking Oak was standing behind me, fancy new sneakers sinking into the sand. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts, shoulders pulled up to his ears as he scowled out over the sea.
“The fuck you want?” Not my most diplomatic moment.
“Gramps wanted me to apologise or whatever. Don't know why, I'm not the one that's running around punching people.” He mumbled, sitting down beside me without looking at me.
“Well you've said it so you can fuck off.”
“Whatever.”
“Whatever.”
Silence fell over us, only briefly interrupted by Betty finally making it to the top off the boulder and diving head first off it with a gleeful whine all the way down, stubby arms flapping like wings. She landed perfectly upside down, buried up to the neck in sand, little feet kicking around to try and get her free. I was just about to help when she dislodged herself and tumbled over. Unperturbed, she immediately went back to the rock and made her way back up.
“Look, I didn’t know that it's the anniversary of something or whatever. Gramps wouldn't say what, he just said something happened. I didn’t…” he trailed off, frowning as we gazed at the water. I could’ve helped him, or just taken the apology, yet I was curious where he was going with it.
After a while, he took a deep breath and restarted with something I never would've expected. “I don't remember my parents. Not really. I have this… blurry idea of a man and a woman, but I don't know what they looked like. What they sounded or acted like. Gramps has pictures, and when I see them, I'm like ‘Oh, right. That's what they looked like’ but it's not… me. I'm just putting pieces together. I don't even know why they're gone. All Gramps says is that my dad disappeared in Johto somewhere, and mom left to look for him. They're probably dead, I guess. Gramps won't say, Ms. Ketchum won't say, I haven't even seen Daisy since she left for her journey two years ago… gramp’s all I have left and… I don't know where I'm going with this.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them.
I sighed. Again. I did that a lot these days. Got caught up in my own thoughts and took my mood out on other people without caring about their own situation. Gary was an arrogant dick, but again, he was a kid. A kid that had been abandoned by his parents, and kind of his sister I guess, since this was the first time I heard of her. All he had left was the Professor and then I showed up and took a lot of the older Oak's time, responding to the vitriol by shooting back even harder.
It didn't absolve him of being an asshole, but couldn't the same be said of me?
I briefly thought about telling him what the Professor had said about Team Rocket, but I held it back. I didn’t have more than a vague suspicion that the Rockets were involved with the missing Oaks, and I didn't want to set him off on that path. The Professor had been right about that, at least.
On the other hand, Dr. Enthal, my psychiatrist had told me to try and open up more and spend time with humans. I didn’t like her much, she treated me like a five year old and was condesending as fuck, but I guess I could give it a try.
“I woke up in the Orre desert, without any memories. Mindbreak, they call it.” I kept looking forward while I saw him turn towards me. “It's supposed to wipe your brain, leave you a vegetable that will die on your own, but sometimes people can make it through, if not unscathed. Stuff happened and I managed to get to Gateon Port, with Siren's egg. On the way, I… I met a Vulpix. Ra.” It was the third time I told the story. The pain was still there, but it was easier.
That kind of scared me. Would there come a day where the thought of what I'd lost didn't even face me? I ignored the thump! of Betty hitting the sand again, determined to get through it. Siren stayed silent, simply pressing against me.
“He was kinda stupid and arrogant, but a handsome one. Pretty sure he thought our scooter was a Pokémon.” We both chuckled. “Anyway, Gateon. What a fucking shithole. It's like all the stories about Orre concentrated in one place and then magnified by 10. Way more homeless and starving people than not, people beating each other up in broad daylight to steal their shit, gang members making the decisions, and kids pulling knives on each other in alleyways.”
"Damn. Knew it was shit, but not that shit.”
“Yeah.” I chuckled again. The commentary made it easier as well. “It's fucking awful. Anyway, I ended up getting a boat ticket to Vermillion, but it would be a week before it set off. In the meantime, I ran into one of the kid gangs, and we had a Pokémon battle. We kept running into each other and somehow, and don't ask because I don't know, we ended up becoming friends. Good enough that after we had to beat up a Snagem Grunt, they bought tickets to the same boat as me. We were gonna go to here, to Pallet, together and become Trainers. Sharon, Rat, Reed, John, Joe. The four days we spent on that boat were the best I can remember.”
“And then…” I sighed for the untold time, but powered through. “We were attacked. I managed to hide while they stole the Pokémon and… and killed Sharon. Then their Gyarados used a Hyper Beam to blow up the ship. Siren managed to get me to shore, but everyone else…”
“Fuck.” The curse was low and when I finally looked at Gary, I saw that his face had gone pale, his eyes wide. “That's… that's fucked. I'm sorry, I… I didn't know.” He seemed genuinely horrified.
“It's okay. Like you said, you didn't know.”
“Still… and thats today?”
“One year today, yeah.”
We returned to silence as he digested the tale while I was suddenly busy getting glomped by an overgrown Bagon. I hadn't told Betty the story yet, and she apparently felt that I needed comfort.
At least it was without teeth.
“Wait. Where did you get the Titan egg then?” Gary apparently decided that he either didn't, or couldn't, comment on the story and focused on something else.
I smirked. “You're never gonna believe this, but I stole it.”
“Ha! Fucking knew it!”
“In my defense, it was from the dickheads that attacked us.”
“Well, guess they owed you one in that case. Hope you fucked them up.”
“Oh yeah.” I could tell by the taken aback look on his face that my own features weren't pleasant at the thought. “They got really fucked up.”
“Oookay. Ominous.”
Rather than awkward, the quiet was companionable this time. There was no need to break it, but I felt I had to say one last thing.
“Thanks for coming.”
“Sure, sure. Wouldn't want the golden boy to get lost this far from civilization.”
“Ha! That's rich coming from you! How many compasses did you need to find this place?”
We kept the ribbing up even as we eventually got up and started walking back to the Lab. The words hadn't really changed, we were still going at each other hard, but the tone was different. And not in a bad way.
I barely noticed the smile on my face the whole way.
And if a couple tears escaped when we made it back to the Lab and everyone jumped out, screaming “Happy Birthday”, I trusted that nobody would say anything.
—----------------------------------
“Come on, lock in. You've got this, just stay on the move. Anticipate his movements.”
I was chewing on my thumb as Siren barely dodged the pointed horn by shooting to the side. Her levitation training had benefits even in the water, lightening her and making her move faster. She spun around as her opponent missed, a light blue orb forming in front of her mouth. A thin beam of jagged energy lashed out, but the charge time gave the other Water-Type more than enough time to get out of the way. The weak Ice Beam hit the water and left a small patch of ice behind.
“Move, move.”
Unfortunately, the attack took too much out of her and the larger white fish hit her dead on, the horn digging into her side and sending her flying with a painful gurgle. She skipped off the surface several times before splashing beneath the water. I bit down harder the longer she stayed out of sight, letting out a breath of relief when she resurfaced, obviously hurt and tired, but nothing serious. She might still have it.
I let out a grain of disappointment when Blasty let out a short blast from his cannons, signaling the end of the battle. The Goldeen spun around smugly, billowing tail flaring out behind it, orange marking standing out prominently as it postured. The onlookers cheered for their champion and crowded around him as Siren sadly retreated over to me.
“It's okay girl, you did great. A little more practice and you will wipe the floor with him.” I assured her.
Another six months had passed since my conversation with Gary and things had been good. The youngest Oak had started joining me occasionally in feeding the Pokémon in the morning, though it was rare he was up that early, or more likely messing around after school. It was… fun, somehow. The shit talking was almost endearing when it wasn't so antagonistic.
On a more sour note, my training of both Siren and Betty had ground to a near halt. The Professor had apparently grown concerned with ‘fairness’, all of a sudden, and forbidden me from battling or directly training my Pokémon. In Betty’s case, it didn’t make much difference since she would be too young until our journey started anyway, but it did leave Siren on her own outside what help she could scrape together. Which apparently had led her to gaining a rival of her own, in the form of the Goldeen.
We spent some time merely socializing before she was called away by her Starmie teacher. It seemingly wasn't impressed by her performance and felt she needed remedial lessons.
I swear, if it pushed her too hard, I was gonna find a Dark/Electric-Type just to whoop its ass.
Stretching my muscles, I took a look around, searching for the more problematic of my Pokémon. It didn't take long to find her either as I quickly spotted her coming my way. Running in the back of a large group of Meowths, Nidorans, and a horde of different puppy Pokémon, Betty’s head peeked out from the masses with her three and a half feet of height. I winced as she lashed out with a viscious headbut, catching a slow Shinx in its black and blue furred side. The Shinx rolled across the ground, but thankfully got to its feet quickly and resumed the chase. As I watched, Betty kept up her dirty tactics, head flying left and right, slaps being handed out indiscriminately. She was likely the physically strongest of the group, due to her size and weight, but also the slowest. I liked to think she would’ve shown better sportsmanship if she could keep up.
It wasn't true, but I liked to think so.
“Keep her in line. She'll beat them all if you give her the chance.” I offered as Flame the Arcanine pranced by me, tongue flapping joyfully as she did a couple of hops and some fancy footwork that led the closest of the chasing Pokémon to ram into each other. The time it took them to untangle themselves allowed the ones in the back, Betty included, to catch up.
It was clear that she was experienced with that kind of game. It made sense, Flame acted like the mother of the reserve, taking care of and playing with the youngest. She was also easily my favorite of Oak's Pokémon. Not that it was a hard competition, given the standoffish Aly and the stalking Gengy. Blasty was fine, he just didn't seem to care about me.
Which was fair.
Leaving them to their game, I made my way over to my own playmates. Or unwilling instructors, I guess. Despite the fact that it was past noon, Machoke and Hitmonchan were still going at it, if slower and obviously tired after hours of combat with only minimal breaks.
Going through the various forms I’d patchworked together, I tried to look inwards at the same time. The meditation I did had been… nice, I guess. As Slowking said, it did allow me to calm down and focus on the present rather than dwelling too much on the past. As I got better at it, it also became easier to briefly slip into that state when my emotions started getting the better of me. I didn't know if it was time, or the meditation, but my emotions in general had calmed down a little. I didn’t want to throw hands at the slightest insult or cry at every reminder of the past anymore.
As often, at least.
But the thing I’d really hoped for from the meditation, unlocking my Aura, still eluded me. I wasn't surprised by that. If it was easy, then everyone would be running around punching boulders. Yet I’d hoped for at least a glimpse, a hint that I was on the right path.
No such luck.
So, there I was, trying to combine the physical movement and the meditation in the hopes that it would spark something. It wasn’t going great. I kept getting too caught up in one of the things, either moving to the point where I forgot to focus, or focusing so much I basically ground to a halt.
Growling in frustration, I stopped and reset myself. Glancing at the two combatants, I got a shock when I saw them running straight at me. I quickly started walking backwards, unsure of what was going on. They’d seen me watching them before and seemingly didn't give a fuck, so why now? How the fuck was I gonna get out of this?
My mouth opened to scream for Flame, as the only Pokémon nearby that was fast enough to help me, when my back hit something. I blinked. I wasn't anywhere near the tree line or any rocks. Feeling the object that obstructed me with my hands, it didn't feel like bark or stone. It felt like solid steel. Warm, sculptured, steel.
Slowly turning my head upwards, my purple orbs met the impassive red eyes above me, pulled into a natural scowl by the three brown ridges right above its brow bone. Large yellow lips were held in a neutral mask, and so was the rest of its chiseled features, bluish-gray skin stretched taut.
I blinked confusedly, and increasingly panicked, as the Machamp stared down at me. I didn’t know what to do. If it was hostile, there were literally no options. I was well within arms reach and the Fighting-Type was way faster than me. Maybe diplomacy, like with Ra?
My lips barely moved before I felt a hand clasp down on my shoulder like a vice grip, each finger more than capable of piercing straight through stone. I closed my eyes and prepared to have my arm ripped off, only to suddenly feel myself become vertical and hit the ground with a loud exhale. Scrambling to sit up, I saw the huge, overly muscled back of the Machamp ripple like water, each muscle fiber twitching like they were alive and as thick as my wrist as the seven-foot titan stepped forward to meet the incoming challengers, four arms flexing with pops like gunshots.
Oh. It wasn’t about me. Machoke and Hitmonchan had seen the Machamp. That made so much more sense and kind of made me regret almost shitting myself.
The two smaller Fighting-Types roared a challenge as they leapt forward, arms cocked back.
Machoke led the charge, jumping up to hand a haymaker straight to the jaw of its higher evolution. The punch landed with a thunderclap, enough force to break trees and splinter rock being delivered directly into Machamps head.
It didn't flinch. The air pressure ruffled the grass beneath them as the taller Pokémon stared down at its devolved state, shaking the hand off its face with a snort, grunting something at its opponent. I didn't even see it move before its right lower arm was buried in Machokes gut, spittle erupting from its mouth as it let out a silent scream. The force launched it back like it was shot out of a cannon, easily clearing 50 feet before even hitting the ground and rolling much further.
I gaped at the power. The strength I’d seen Machoke display before had been monstrous. I’d thought that in terms of brute strength, the Fighting-Type was up there in the overall hierarchy. I was clearly wrong.
Hitmonchan had taken the chance provided by Machoke’s head-on assault to slip to the side. The fast Pokémon stepped in, fists blurring as it tried to land a hit. Fire, ice, and lighting erupted from its hands, shifting between them so fast their after-trail blended into each other, becoming streaks of mixing elemental energy. The skill and mastery it took to change so quickly between multiple Types of energy boggled my mind. Siren had trouble just getting Ice Beam to work consistently, yet Hitmonchan made it seem effortless.
It was also useless.
Hitmonchan was so fast that I sometimes had trouble following its movements. Machamp, on the other hand, hadn't shown agility anywhere near that and might not be able to. With each punch, Hitmonchan would step back out of reach, constantly bouncing in and out, trying to provoke a counterattack and maybe create an opening. But what Machamp might lack in speed, it more than made up for in skill.
Elemental energy rushed past its sides as it turned and sidestepped each attack. Every movement was precise and exact, just bringing it out of danger with the least possible energy expended. Its four bulging arms crossed over its barrel chest as it displayed grace disproportionate with its size and bulk. It was like a dance as it toyed with Hitmonchan, seemingly predicting the future as it twirled and dodged, perfectly balanced on the balls of its feet. My open mouth dropped even further when it leaned in a way that let me see its face and I noticed that its eyes were closed.
What the fuck.
The Hitmonchans attacks grew faster and faster as it continued to miss, retreating less and less as its frustrations increased. With a roar, its fist shone a bright white as it pulled it back to its side. Suddenly, with a single step, it vanished and reappeared right in front of Machamp.
CLAP!
Another crack of thunder rang out as the glowing hand landed square on a palm, wind once more blowing almost as much as with Machokes mighty hit. The Hitmonchan paled as the hand around its own closed tight. The Machamp gave an ugly grin and swung the smaller Pokémon over its head and smashed it into the Machoke that had finally gotten back to its feet and tried another charge. The two Pokémon collided with a loud thud, Machoke forced to the ground underneath its sparring partner. Before either had a chance to react, three arms appeared and grabbed them, two for Machokes legs and another for Hitmonchans arms.
I winced again as the huge Machamp laughed and started slamming the two Fighting-Types into the ground over and over again. Occasionally, it seemed to grow bored and smacked them into each other a couple of times, before reintroducing them to the dirt. Big clumps of earth and grass shot up into the air, gaping craters left behind from the horrific strength they were flung around by.
I wasn't sure how long the abuse went on, but eventually, the Machamp heldt the two limp Pokémon up and took a look at them. Apparently satisfied that they were done, it carelessly threw them to the ground, uncaring for the painful moans they let out. Scoffing, Machamp turned away from its humiliated opponents and laid its eyes back on me.
I didn't dare move as the hulking slab of pure muscle swaggered towards me, or take my eyes off it. Behind the titan of strength, I could vaguely see that Flame had circled her group of kids closer towards us, which reassured me somewhat, but I couldn't be sure that even an Arcanine could make it in time as Machamp came to a stop before me.
It was only at this point that I remembered Oak's words when I first got to the Lab and was getting looked over by Clefable. Something about Machoke and Hitmonchan being injured, but at least not bothering Champy.
What was with the Professor and just putting ‘y’ on the end of Pokémon names?
Champy grunted, pulling my attention back to him. One of its lower hands waved in a ‘come hither’ motion, and I slowly got up to my feet, careful not to make any sudden movements. Knowing that the paragon of Fighting-Types belonged to the Professor put me a little more at ease, yet it probably wasn't wise to test my luck.
As I stood before it, it looked me over with scrutiny, not impressed by the way its lip curled. Not giving me a chance to say anything, it slapped its ungodly ripped abs with a palm and a grunt, the impact like a sledge hammer against a mountain.
“I'm… sorry? I don't understand.”
The towering humanoid let out another impatient grunt, and slapped itself again, harder.
“You want me to punch you?”
It was a wild shot in the dark, so imagine my surprise when Champy nodded and held its arms out to the side.
“Oookay.”
Not sure what was going on, but not willing to refuse either, I squared my feet and took a deep breath. Turning slightly, I cocked my hand back and let it fly, putting my whole body behind it. Nothing less would’ve a chance to even move it.
THUD!
“OOOOWWWW!”
I cradled my poor hand, shaking it to try and ease the pain. Fuck me, that was like hitting granite!
Champy shook his head and grabbed me by the shoulders with the lower pair of its top limbs. Careless of my protests, he maneuvered my body around, widening my feet with a light kick and bringing my hands up to my chest. Apparently satisfied, it took a step back and mimicked my new stance, throwing a quick punch, before looking at me expectedly.
The light bulb finally went off for me and I grinned as Champy led me through various katas.
Looks like I finally got a real teacher.
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Who better to teach how to punch, than someone that can do it 4 times at once?
Thank you for reading. Hopefully you enjoyed.
