The Long and Winding Road
By: BetterButterBuddha
Chapter 14: Status Quo

July 11th, 2000 Trovita Island

“What am I doing to myself?” I said out loud. Stupid as it may sound, whenever I’m feeling down, or pensive, I try to speak with my pokemon. They can’t really offer advice, but I remember my mom saying that they are sentient creatures like myself, so at very least, they can understand me. “For the past forty-eight hours, I’ve been moping, and doing nothing else. I should be out training. I should be helping Blue learn more. But no, not me. I’ve just been sitting around, stewing over that… thing. I mean, come on, I’ve been just sitting here for the last three hours. It might have just been a really stupid dream, but even if it was truly real, even if that artifact meant something, I shouldn’t just be sitting here. What do you think poliwhirl?” I asked. Poliwhirl cocked his head at me, and then pointed to the city.

I stood up, and looked at it. We were in the outskirts now, laying in a grove of some sort. The city had its own beauty to it. The lights, the people, the noises, they were all unique, and even if it got to some people, it was still beauty to me.

“Maybe you’re right. There’s got to be something in the city for me,” I said, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got to get my mind out of the gutter. Let’s do what pokemon trainers do, poliwhirl. It’s time for a battle.”

“Poli!” it replied. Poliwhirl had changed a little since he evolved. His voice had grown deeper. (I still have absolutely no idea how a pokemon with no mouth speaks.) His body motions had also changed since the evolution; I had to spend some time with it to start to understand what they meant. Even his personality had changed, for example, he’s become a lot more active, and a lot more ambitious.

“Alright then, it’s time for a really stressful battle. We’re low on cash, so if we lose this, we’ll really be screwed. Let’s go,” I exclaimed. Poliwhirl willingly went into his pokeball, and I put it back on my belt. I grabbed my backpack, and walked towards the road. It was nearly night, and the city lights glimmered in the distance. I picked up the pace, and in a matter of seconds, I was in an all out sprint, ready for a return to the life I knew and loved. The wind blew past my face, stinging it, reminding me that I was alive. I smiled with anticipation.

I reached city limits in five minutes.

“Whoa, I should stop running everywhere,” I exclaimed between pants, “Huh… wow, I’ve gotten out of shape. Well, anyways, I’m in the city.”

I had slowed to a walk now that I was in the city. My feet pounded against the sidewalk, and even though it was night, it was difficult to neglect the vitality that Trovita city was giving off. Cars honked, people yelled at each other, calling one and other “Stupid jerks”, and warning their fellow men, “Watch it, you bleeding asshole!” I headed for the pokemon center.

“Nurse Joy,” I said, “could you heal these pokemon? We’ve been out training for a while, but there are no serious wounds.”

She looked at me and then nodded. “Sure,” she said, “hand me your pokeballs; it will take about five minutes.”

I gave the pokeballs to nurse Joy, and she put them in a device that looked more akin to an industrial oven than a healing apparatus. That was a device that all modern pokemon centers used. They were for healing pokemon with no real wounds past a bruise here or there. They used a certain kind of laser to stimulate the pokemon’s circulatory and nervous system. This made the pokemon’s body flood with hormones that heal the pokemon’s wounds, restore their fighting capabilities, and heal any status changes that may have been inflicted on them. So, in effect, all pokemon without serious injuries can be healed within five minutes or less.

Sure enough, in five minutes, the always perky nurse called me up to the desk. “Your pokemon are fully healed,” she said. I fastened my balls to the belt I wore.

“Nurse,” I addressed, “are there any battle stadiums nearby? I’m really in the mood to take somebody on, but I don’t think I’m strong enough for the gym leaders yet.”

“Hmmm? You’re new here, aren’t you? A big section of Trovita city is completely dedicated to pokemon trainers. There is a huge pokemart, a gym, and a battle arena among other things. In fact, we’re in that section of town right now. Judging by the levels of your pokemon, you should be perfect for the level forty room in the arena. You might have trouble if you use mareep or mantine, but rhyhorn and poliwhirl should be able to hold their own. Its levels 31 to 40, so you should be able to win if you know anything about battling. It’s a block away from the center, on North Elm Street,” she informed.

“Wow. Umm… thanks,” I said. I picked up my backpack from the bench I had let it rest on, and went outside. It was twilight by now.

**************************************************************

“North Elm Street,” the sign read. Just behind it stood the pokemon battle arena. It had an air of energy surrounding it. One could almost feel the adrenaline that rushed through this place. I’d been to places like this before. There were the regulars, those who almost always could be found in the battle arena, perfecting their near-immaculate rosters. Then there were people like me, rookies, who always seemed to have the worst luck. Looking at the bright lights from the stadium, I hoped my luck would be the exception.

Inside, there was a front desk, with a weary looking man waiting at the chair. “Sir,” I inquired, “I’d like to put in an inquiry for a battle.” Places like this were almost always the same. You would give the people your teams, than they would try to match you up with somebody of equal ability. The only real downside to the arena system was the 5% they took off from the winner’s ante.

He looked up from his computer. “Sure, kid,” he said, “Why not? What kinda guy are you looking for?”

“I have 4 pokemon, all at about level 35. They are of pretty diverse types. If I could, I think I’d like to get a 3-on-3 battle,” I replied. He began to type on the computer. “Hey, wait a second. I heard somewhere that room 40 was supposed to be a good place for somebody of my talent to be. What do you think of that?”

He looked up again. “Yeah, I was about to suggest that,” he said. He typed in a few more keys, and then got a match. “Here’s somebody. He’s got 3 pokemon in prime fighting order, all of diverse types. Should you choose to accept, the wager would be about $100. Well?” he asked.

“I guess so,” I replied. He typed in a few more keys, and then looked up again. “Alright then. I need a deposit of 101 dollars, which will be returned to you if you win.” I handed him the money. “The battle begins in fifteen minutes; your opponent is a man named Gabe Kelly. Good Luck,” he said.

I put my hands in the pockets of my pants, and walked into the halls. Signs gave me the directions to room 40, and I followed them earnestly. Within minutes, I stood in the trainer’s box.

I looked across the stadium. Gabe Kelly, my opponent, stood in the trainer’s box. He stared at me with an air of unbelievable confidence in his ability to win. He cracked his knuckles angrily, never once blinking. This guy had the “thousand yard stare”. He did look at me, but at the same time, he looked right through me. Anxiety descended on me, but I tried my best to hold strong. I fingered poliwhirl’s pokeball, and thought about my team. Now, it seemed that mareep, poliwhirl, and rhyhorn would be my best luck. I stared just as sternly back at my opponent. My pokemon would not let me down.

“The battle will now begin,” proclaimed the PA system. “Three on three, the wager is $100. Trainers… on your mark, set, go!”

Then it began. I looked down at my belt, and saw the three pokemon I could use. I chose one, and looked at it. It glimmered in the lights from the stadium. I pressed the button on the front, and it consequently enlarged. I hurled it at the ground, making sure to get the angle right. It opened up, let out its precious cargo, and flew back to the trainer’s box. Mareep solidified, and gave out a wary yet determined yell.

My opponent, keeping his constitution, did the same as me. His pokeball let out a miltank. It gave out a drawn out moo, and then did a mock bodybuilder pose. I took the initiative.

“Mareep, let’s begin. It’s time for a status change: use thunder wave!” I yelled out into the arena. Its fur began to glimmer, and then suddenly, its face reddened. A wave of yellow electric energy came, and shocked the miltank. The air around us crackled, and then miltank grew still. The paralysis had set in.

“Huh. We can beat that mareep. And we have the advantage,” he said. I raised my eyebrow. “Use earthquake!”

The cow, despite its disability, gave out a threatening roar, and jumped up into the air. It was quite a site to see, but that was the least of my concerns. I winced as it hit the ground. I could feel it, and see it happening. A wave of kinetic energy rushed through the ground, and the dirt of the stadium crackled underneath the pressure. Mareep was taken by surprise, and the shockwave from the earth threw it against the wall. It let out a pathetic sigh, and then slumped over. It was out for the count.

I felt some kind of anger well up within me, but I managed to contain it. “You’re miltank is very strong,” I commented, “but will it be able to stand up to this?” The dialogue was rather corny, but at least it made me feel better. I was losing badly.

“Poliwhirl, come out and use your water gun!” I said as I threw the pokeball out into the stadium. It glared at its opponent, and then began the assault. It really was incredible. Poliwhirl’s power had only increased since I last used it. A constant stream of water gushed out from his hands, smashing into miltank with the force of a brick to the face. Miltank cracked under the pressure, rolling into the wall. It was almost out.

“Heh, that’s pretty good. But you forget Miltank’s best ability. Milk Drink!” he yelled. The cow grabbed a bottle from a ribbon held around its neck, and put it to an udder. Disgustingly enough, a flow of white, creamy liquid came out, and miltank gulped it all down. And in about three seconds, it was up and fighting again.

“It will take more than that. Body Slam!” I screamed. The adrenaline was starting to get to me. My hands shook in anticipation. Poliwhirl was excited too. He strengthened his muscles, and ran straight into miltank. It was a decent body slam, and with it, miltank was forced against the ground, into a crack that it had created itself.

Then came the turning point. I expected miltank to come out and launch a return attack or something, but it didn’t happen. In fact, nothing happened. All was still. The paralysis was taking effect.

“Hah-HA!” I exclaimed, “You won’t be able to win this one. Use another water gun, poliwhirl!”

I didn’t expect what came next. Poliwhirl furled his brow, and clamped his hands into a box. And then he just… stood there. Waiting. After a minute, his body began to quiver with energy. Then it came. He rushed forward towards the miltank, and extended his hands. A rush of water came forth. It traveled incredibly fast; actually, I couldn’t even distinguish it from the air around it. The beam of water smacked miltank straight in the torso. I felt sorry for it. Water was actually a really powerful weapon, due to its surface tension. At those speeds, getting hit with a water gun would be like getting hit with a cement block. Needless to say, miltank was out for the count. It slumped down, and Gabe recalled it into the pokeball.

For the first time since I had met him, he looked a little unsure. “Uh… that’s a really powerful pokemon.” His apprehension lasted a few seconds more, but then he snapped back to his game face. “But I can handle it.” With that, he reached onto his belt, and pulled off an ultra ball. That usually meant trouble. He threw it into the arena, and out came the most powerful opponent poliwhirl had faced up until that point. A machamp.

“Alright, let’s start this out. Focus energy!” said Gabe. His machamp flexed all of its muscles at once, and started to twitch. The muscles spasmed as the pokemon’s body was flooded with adrenaline. It would make the battle that much harder.

“This one looks pretty tough, poliwhirl. But nothing can hurt you if it’s sleeping,” I exclaimed, “Use hypnosis!”

Poliwhirl focused his gaze on the machamp, and kept it there. Poliwhirl was sending out mildly powerful psychic waves, in order to convince machamp’s brain to fall asleep. Actually, the move tricked the opponent’s occipital lobe into seeing a spiral, which would then send it into a sleep. This time, however, the move didn’t work. Machamp’s twitching was too much of a distraction for it to become interested in sleep. The move had failed.

“That strategy won’t work. Could you sleep if your body was rushed with adrenaline? I’m sure I couldn’t. That was a novice move, and you’re about to pay for it. Cross Chop!” screamed Gabe. I winced, because I could almost feel what was about to happen. Machamp rushed up, and used all four of its arms to hit poliwhirl from a diagonal angle.

“POLIWHIRL!” I screamed. “Are you OK?” Poliwhirl nodded his head from the floor, a very difficult thing to do without a neck. “Then get up! We need to win this battle. We really need the money! C’mon, use an icy wind!” Poliwhirl obeyed, and began to inhale. After about ten seconds of that, he blew out a cold gale, straight at the machamp. Bits of ice hit it, tearing its skin, and lowering its body temperature, and consequently, its speed.

But I wasn’t interested in that. When I said, “We really need the money”, Gabe’s expression changed. His face softened a bit, and he gained a thoughtful look. He closed his eyes, and nodded his head pensively. What did that mean?

“Alright,” Gabe said. His vocal tone was much less harsh. “Use a foresight attack.” Machamp steadied its body, and took a Zen-like pose. He was figuring out the best way to hit poliwhirl next. But why would Gabe pick that kind of move? It’s only really useful on ghost pokemon. Something smelled bad.

“Okay… your loss. Poliwhirl, use another one of your water guns. Aim for the face!” I shouted. Poliwhirl again did its fantastic water gun, and slammed machamp straight in the forehead. It was out for the count, just like miltank had been. It was all that could be expected from a pokemon with poliwhirl’s kind of genes.

“I seem to be losing,” stated Gabe. He was still a lot calmer, and less cocksure than he had been earlier in the battle. “Come on out,” he said, throwing a pokeball into the air. Out came… a diglett. The strange mole burrowed into the ground as fast as the eye could see, and then began to move about, breaking up the dirt.

“Wow. You must really be running out of options. Heh, that’s just better for me. Let’s go poliwhirl. I don’t have to tell you what to do,” I said. Poliwhirl again nodded, and prepared for one of his water gun assaults. It burst from his hands, and smacked the hapless diglett. The sheer power of the spray, combined with the weakness to water, was enough to OHKO the poor diglett. “I’m sorry I had to do that,” I said.

“BZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!” the buzzer sounded. “The match between Gabe Kelly and Vincent Castaneda is now over. Vincent Castaneda is the winner. Please approach the overseer’s booth to collect your ante.”

So I won. Somehow, it was less fulfilling than I thought it would have been, but hey, a win’s a win. I approached the overseer. A small, stressed looking black woman sat at the desk. “Here’s your prize, son. 201 dollars: The winnings from your opponent and what you gave to start the battle. Congratulations.” She looked weary, but I happily accepted the money anyway.

I turned around, stepped a few paces, and stopped. I looked back on the overseer’s booth. Something was getting at me; I was having a gut reaction. It was just a suspicion, but Blue had said to always trust a hunch. I reproached the overseer’s booth.

“Miss,” I said, “is there any way for me to ask… um… I mean… Could I legally see what the other trainer’s carried pokemon were? The ones that he didn’t use?” She stared at me blankly, but typed in a few keystrokes, and turned the computer monitor to face me. My face grew white, and my mouth involuntarily opened.

He had a miltank, a machamp, and a diglett, yes, but he also had a typhlosion, a scizor, and a jolteon. And each of them, except the diglett, had near-professional movesets. Why didn’t he use them against me? “Thanks,” I said to the woman, who gave me a jaded nod in response. I staggered over to the nearest bench.

What the hell would be the motivation for using the weakest pokemon and moves like that? He started off really strong, but in the end, it just seemed to trail off into nothing. Why? He could’ve used that jolteon to tear me to bits. It even had an ice hidden power, and that would’ve killed rhyhorn. Why!?! I racked my brain for an answer, continually searching for a reason. There had to have been one. Why would anybody use a diglett when they had a jolteon? After, another fifteen minutes of not-so-calm reflection, it hit me.

“That bastard,” my voice said, softly. He threw the battle. “THAT FUCKING BASTARD!” I yelled, at the top of my lungs. The overseer looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Sorry,” I said. It all made sense. When I had said, “We really need the money”, he decided to throw the battle. BECAUSE HE FELT SORRY FOR ME. I punched the bench that I sat on in all my rage. THE BASTARD PITIED ME, BECAUSE I WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH TO BATTLE HIM! I shivered and stewed in my rage. Did he think I was not good enough to beat him? “Ugh… calm down, Vincent,” I said, “So the guy pitied me. It was, after all, only my second battle. He had more advanced pokemon than I, so what? I could get better.” I was trying to rationalize. My rage was still with me.

And then, suddenly, it left. I looked at my hands. They were soft and white, very clean. Not hands that had worked hard. As I looked at my hands, something occurred to me. I sucked. Horribly. Not only was I weak, I wasn’t trying to become strong; this was my folly. The strong always beat the weak; it is never the opposite. A great truth was showing itself to me. Strength was all that mattered in this world. Only strength. I couldn’t have won that battle by being kinder to my pokemon, or by believing in myself. I was already doing that. Only strength could’ve won that battle. I was weak. But as I looked at my hands, an epiphany hit me. I could get stronger, if I trained. And how I would train! From this day on, all would change. I would catch all of the strongest pokemon; train them as hard as I could. I wanted to win, and with my newfound ambition, I would! By God, how I would!

“I will be the greatest pokemon trainer the world will ever see,” I thought to myself. I grabbed my bookbag, and flung it over my shoulder. I headed out from this place, out from Trovita Island. The catamaran was waiting for me, as was Opportunity. My strength would increase, and how! Things were looking up.

***********************************************************

Cain Lennon viewed the battle with a stoic attitude, as he did all things. He was constantly analytical. Everything he saw was objective. Like a computer. Even the expressions on Vincent’s face were something to be analyzed. Cain could read anybody like a book. Their thoughts were usually obvious. Every once in a great while, he ran across somebody who was an enigma to him, but that was only once in a great while. Vincent wasn’t any exception. The sweat pouring from his face, the constant shaking of his hands, the unexplainable rattle that his head always gave when he was thinking: they were all telltale signs of his thoughts, his emotions. Vincent wanted to win.

Fool. Not nearly enough. Vincent couldn’t win, not like Cain could. Cain could win over Vincent; he had to be able to. Vincent did the lazy things, the things that would only make him less strong. Sleeping, eating, playing… Cain only did those when he had to.

He never played, though. It was always training.

Cain wasn’t at all stunned when the Gabe child threw the battle. Fool. Only an Idiot would waste a victory for something as trivial and imaginary as mercy. Cain watched the whole thing. He could pinpoint the exact moment when Gabe decided to lose. He could even predict the next moves; they were so obvious.

The only thing that caught him off guard was when Vincent shouted. Those bad words. He had been hiding behind a wall, listening to Vincent. Cain could tell that Vincent was stewing over his victory. When Vincent asked the lady at the desk about his ex-opponent’s team, Cain knew why. Vincent suspected the truth. That Gabe had thrown the game for pity’s sake. When Vincent became angry, Cain knew why. Something like that had happened to him once.

So Cain could understand. Why Vincent ran off, into the night. And Cain knew what would happen now. Vincent would start training; he would become strong, not like all the other filth. A formidable opponent. Cain’s hands were shaking. So when Vincent ran off to his boat, a shadow followed. A shadow with red hair, and piercing eyes.