Chapter Two
~Living A Lie~
~1~
Slowly, thoughtfully, he reaches forward with his hand and marks off a small X
on the piece of paper. Satisfied, he sits back, a barely concealed smugness
about his features.
"Hah," Richard Sooter
says, "I've got you now."
"Don't be so sure,"
Sen replies, stroking his chin pensively. It's not
much of an aid to the thought process, he finds, but he's sure that it looks
good to his opponent. "I'm not finished just yet."
Sooter raises his dark blonde
eyebrows and looks away, as if to say 'Whatever gets you through the day, my
friend.'
With deliberate carefulness,
Sen makes his move. He raises his pencil and bends over the sheet of paper,
making a small O in the box beside Sooter's X. He sits back.
"A-ha!"
Sooter cries triumphantly, leaping forward with glee and marking off a third X
just above Sen's last O. "Three in a row! Read 'em and weep, Sen!" He
draws a line through his three X's and grins.
Sen looks away and crosses his
arms, manufacturing a pout that is an exaggeration of the loss he actually
feels.
"'Nother
game?" Sooter inquires, turning the sheet of paper over. When Sen
doesn't answer, he looks up and catches the expression on his face. "Hey,
what's wrong?" he asks. "You okay?"
Sen looks
up and meets his gaze. "Yeah," he says at last. "As okay as you
can be, I guess. I mean, I am talking to a dead guy."
Sooter grins as he makes out another noughts-and-crosses square on the back of the sheet
of paper. "Yeah, well, I am the dead guy, and I'm okay with it!" He
laughs to himself.
Sen pans his gaze over the
scene around them. It's a pleasant day in the woods, mid-afternoon, and
although not much of the light makes it down through the trees into the
clearing, you can still tell that it's a pretty nice day outside. They are
sitting cross-legged on the grass, listening to the companionable chucklings of
the river, a small piece of paper spread out on a flat rock between them. It's
light enough so that Sen can see the X that Sooter pencils into the centre
square. It's also light enough for the red trainer on Sooter's dead body to
catch Sen's eye if he happens to look in that direction. He tries not to.
Somehow, it seems rude.
"Hey, no fair," Sen
says. "You took the centre square, that's how you won last time."
Sooter
smiles. "Yeah, you'll find I do that a lot, Sen." His voice is
pleasant to listen to, and wise. Sen looks at his attractively youthful
features. Sooter has one of those faces that seems
much younger than he is, until you actually look at him closely. His complexion
is flawless, a light amber tan that is as unblemished as Sen's own milk-white
skin. His platinum-blonde, shoulder length hair gives a much less effeminate
air to his features than Sen would have expected it to. It's the eyes, Sen thinks. Those piercing blue eyes.
Despite his youthful complexion and his effeminate hair, Sooter's eyes are
intelligent and knowing beyond his years.
"I don't see why I can't
have an advantage for once," Sen asks.
"Oh, come on now, don't
pout," Sooter says. "You always start from behind, so what? It makes
the winning all the more sweet."
"Yeah," Sen sulkily
mutters, "if I actually do win with the odds stacked against me like
this."
"Mmmm," Sooter
considers, "you do have a point there. Most likely, you won't." He's
quiet for a while, seems to think about something carefully, and then says
"Manderlay."
Sen looks up sharply.
"What?" he asks.
"Manderlay," Sooter
casually replies. He looks up. "Don't sound so surprised, Sen. You know it
just as well as I do. Manderlay will come back to bite you in the ass." He
looks back down at the sheet of paper. "Are you going to make your move?"
"What do you mean,
Manderlay?" Sen asks. "I've never been there. I don't know anyone
called Manderlay. What do you mean?"
Sooter sighs in exasperation.
"It's not a person, Sen, or a place. It's a thing. A ... metaphorical
construct, if you will."
Sen is still doubtful.
"And ... you say this metaphorical construct is going to, ah, bite me in
the ass?"
Sooter is deadly serious.
"Yes," he says.
Sen looks down at the paper.
The sounds of the forest are warm and inviting, and Sooter's presence is as
comforting and familiar as it has been throughout the game. But he feels
suddenly scared. And alone.
"Oh," he says.
~2~
"Manderlay..."
Sen snapped awake, gripped the
edges of the cot in surprise and braced himself. Then the sickening feeling in
his stomach dissipated, his head cleared, and the freefall-feeling that
accompanies awaking from a dream gradually evaporated. With it went all
recollection of the dream itself.
He sat up in bed, rubbing his
eyes. A few tiny specs of drool spotted his pillow, and he wiped them away with
his palm. He felt rested, better rested than he could ever remember having felt
before. He also had absolutely no idea where he was.
The room was a large hall, with
about forty tatty-looking cots identical to his own
arranged in rows. Every one of them was empty. Some had been neatly tidied, others were a mess of sheets and pillows. A tiny TV
stood on a table at one end of the room, surrounded by four or five plastic
chairs. The TV was off.
Dimly, he heard voices coming
from the door outside.
"Oh yeah," he said to
himself, summing up the events of the previous day which had just marched into
his mind, "that."
Worried that he had overslept,
Sen hopped out of bed and grabbed his toiletry bag, rushing to the showers and
expecting a huge queue of trainers that would set him back hours. Instead, he
found them empty. He took his time, enjoying the hot water working out the
soreness in his joints left by the uncomfortableness of the cot, and spent
thirty minutes in front of the mirror fixing his hair and clothes until he was
perfect for his first day.
His first day
as a Pokémon trainer.
How good those words sounded!
Packing his things into the
overnight bag that was his only luggage, Sen walked out of the lodging area of
the Pokémon Centre and into the main reception.
It was chaos. The entire
population of the city seemed to be there, including all of the trainers who
had been staying there that night. Many of them were queued up towards the
reception desk, worried expressions on their faces, where harassed-looking
staff did their best to answer three phones at once and also deal with the line
of people in front of them. Other trainers were queued up at the building's only two payphones, or standing around the walls
on their own cells. Some of the younger ones - and, indeed, a few of the older
ones - were crying, being comforted by virtual strangers. Every so often, two
parents would come through the door, a trainer would cry out and run towards
them, and said parents would lead their child off home. Almost everyone was
still in their pyjamas, or a t-shirt and shorts, or whatever they had worn to
bed, explaining the absence of people in the shower.
Jesus, Sen thought
derisively as he walked towards the door, looks like we have an early epidemic
of homesickness. What a bunch of babies.
~3~
He boarded the city-bound subway right outside the Pokémon Centre, and rode it
all the way into the heart of Peregrine. He disembarked, and, although it was
time for lunch, headed straight for the Trainers Supply Store he'd passed while
shopping with
He entered the store. The walls
on one side were filled with collapsible tents that would fit into a backpack,
tiny but effective cooking utensils, and various, equally hideous varieties of
outdoor clothing. On the right there was more expensive and technical
equipment, such as the latest PokéGear and Pokédex models, as well as a
selection of Pokéballs. Sen headed there now.
The clerk was wearing a bright
yellow jumper with a badge pinned to it that said "HI, I'M DAVE" in
grating cartoonish writing. He was somewhat rugged in appearance, and when he
turned to see Sen approach there was an evident
element of distain hidden just behind his have-a-nice-day pitch.
"Hey there," he
cheerfully announced, extending his hand. "I'm-"
"Save it," Sen cut
him off, looking at the hand. It hung there for a few seconds, and eventually
was withdrawn. He looked Dave squarely in the eye. "I need a PokéGear
v7.0, and a 'dex 5.0, although I'll take the 4.0 if that's all you have. I need
the solar charger. I need a small, collapsible one-person tent, in the least
hideous colour you have, and all of the usual crap that comes with it. I also
need five Pokéballs." He ticked each item off on his fingers, then looked expectantly at the clerk.
"Uh..." Dave began,
"okayyy... you do know the latest PokéGear and the 'dex come to..."
"Stop right there,"
Sen said, holding up his finger. He pointed at his clothes. "Look at this
outfit," he said.
Dave looked bewildered.
"Uh, the price is..."
"Look at this outfit,"
Sen insisted. Dave paused, and, to his credit, seemed to consider Sen's
clothing.
"Do I look like I care
what the price is?" Sen asked.
Dave said nothing, and started
to ring up the bill.
Sen collected his items and
paid in cash. "By the way," he called back as he headed for the door,
"you're missing an apostrophe."
The electronic doors swished
shut behind him, cutting off Dave's last remark.
~4~
His next stop was a mobile phone store, the painfully titled Ringing The Changes, where he purchased a new cell phone to replace
the damaged one from yesterday. As he left the shop he dashed off a quick text
to
With his Pokédex, PokéGear,
camping equipment and cell phone, Sen went to the park to try out his new
purchases.
The
Sen staked out a bench beside
the fountain and began looking through his things. He took out his PokéGear
first of all, as he was most curious about it. When Sen had first been a
trainer, PokéGear hadn't existed, or if it had it was in too primitive a form
to be released to the general training public. Sen had chosen the purple model,
and he turned it over in his hands now, admiring its newness. He eventually
discovered how to turn it on, and was shocked when it asked him his name.
Slowly, he entered SEN DELANEY on the keys.
He was about to press Enter,
when he realised what he'd just done.
Well done, Al Capone, he
thought. That's really slick. You almost gave yourself up to a bloody machine!
He deleted the previous entry,
and instead keyed RICHARD SOOTER. "Thank you," the 'Gear responded
soothingly, and then asked, "And your ID number?"
Sen rifled through his bags to
find Sooter's trainer card, found it, and entered in the number.
"Heh, still haven't
memorised that yet, huh?" a voice said close behind him, making him jump.
Sen turned around sharply,
annoyed. The voice had been female, but for a moment Sen didn't think it had
come from the person standing behind the bench. This person was about Sen's
age, perhaps older. Tall - much taller than him - with a tough, muscular yet
lean build, this person looked more masculine than feminine. S/he wore a cloth
hat pulled down almost to her/his ears, with a Pokéball logo on it. Her/his
hair came to just about her/his shoulders, and was curly bordering on frizzy.
S/he had a handsome face, striking yet not what would be called pretty. S/he
wore tough, outdoor clothing, the kind favoured by serious travelling Pokémon
trainers, and a sturdy grey backpack. On her/his feet were a pair of clunky
black boots, scuffed and weather-beaten. Here and there about her/his person
there was a small Pokéball logo, on the shirt and legs of the trousers,
including a tiny but noticeable Pokéball badge pinned to her/his flat chest.
S/he came around the bench and
stood in front of Sen, extending her/his hand.
"Hi," s/he said,
"I'm Celeste."
So, it is a girl, he thought.
Sen, too surprised to react
with his usual disdain toward individuals dressed like her - especially when
such individuals came up and introduced themselves - found himself
shaking her hand.
"Um, hi," he said,
"I'm Sen."
"Sen," Celeste said,
smiling. "Unusual."
You can talk,
"Celeste", Sen thought.
"Where would you like to
go today, Richard?" Sen's PokéGear asked.
Oh crap, Sen thought.
Celeste's brow creased in
confusion, and she looked questioningly at him.
"Oh, that," Sen said,
managing to fake a laugh. "Well, see, Richard's my real name. Sen's sort
of a ... a nickname." He didn't sound very convincing to himself.
"A
nickname?" Celeste asked. Her tone was politely curious, but Sen felt she was being distinctly inquisitorial. "How do
you get 'Sen' from 'Richard'?"
Go away, you mannish woman, Sen
muttered to himself. His mind raced, and he realised Celeste was looking at him
strangely.
"It's just hard trying to
remember how it all came about," Sen offered weakly. Suddenly, inspiration
struck. "Oh! Yeah, I remember now. It's my surname. Sooter.
My, uh, my friends, they used to call me Sooty. And sometimes
Soot-man. Which eventually developed into S-man, and, well, that sort of
mutated into Sen, which has since stuck."
Celeste laughed, and said
"Okay." Her expression was that irritating one worn so often by
people who invaded Sen's personal space and ended up thinking him 'Weird'. Sen
began to get angry, and wished she would leave. He was about to suggest it,
when she broke in:
"So, Sen, that's a pretty
nice PokéGear you have there," she said.
Sen looked down at the device
in his hand, displaying the map function which had caused the previous episode
of awkwardness. Sen turned it off and put it back in his bag.
"Yes," he said,
standing up, "it is."
They stood in momentary
silence. Sen was about to make another attempt to leave, or get her to leave,
but Celeste evidently felt that he was just shy, and they would soon be the best
of friends.
"So, you're a
trainer?" she asked.
"Yes," Sen said.
A pause.
"Me too," Celeste
offered.
A pause.
"Great," Sen said,
injecting as much sarcasm into his remark as one word could hold.
"Yeah," Celeste said,
evidently taking his clipped comments as an invitation to continue, "I've
always wanted to train Pokémon, for years. Ever since I was a
little kid. My dad didn't want me to be a trainer, he was all 'Oh, come
on, Celeste, you should try to enter a more stable career, you know how most
trainers end up.' But he saw how determined I was, and I entered a few practice
tournaments to show him I had skill, so finally he let me, if I paid for it
myself. That's why I'm starting so late, took me long enough to save up the
money to fund this. Heh, although I don't suppose you had that problem."
"No," Sen said.
Celeste seemed to be sensing
that Sen's reluctance to enter the conversation was not born out of shyness.
Realising this, she offered the reason for her bothering him.
"Well, anyway, I just came
over because there aren't many trainers about this morning, and I thought you
might want someone to battle."
Sen pointedly looked her up and
down.
"I do," he said.
Then: "Thanks anyway."
Hoisting his backpack over his
shoulder, Sen began walking off. Celeste turned towards him as he walked away,
an incredulous look on her face.
"What's that supposed to
mean?" she called after him. "I'm not good enough for you or
something?"
Sen turned back and called out,
"You're evidently more perceptive than your dress sense would
indicate."
Celeste was getting angry now.
"Sure," she said, "attack my clothes. Fine.
Maybe I don't have mummy and daddy to indulge this week's passion for Pokémon
training, but I'm good at this, and I'd kick your rich boy ass!"
People's attention had been
caught by this shouted exchange, and Sen was not one to back down from a fight,
especially in front of an audience. He began walking back towards Celeste.
"I'll battle you," he
said, dropping his backpack to the ground beside him. "I guess I could
throw in some training advice with the fashion tips. Starting with the latter,
I'd suggest you accessorise with gasoline and matches."
Celeste walked towards him,
stopping instinctively at the edge of a battle arena they had mentally marked
out between them. The people in the park were looking round, some even
beginning to walk towards them, eager to witness the first battle of the day.
"Okay, Dick," Celeste
said. "How many Pokémon ya got?"
"One," Sen said.
Celeste rolled her eyes at the
gathering crowd, and mouthed "One." She placed two Pokéballs back in
her pocket, with exaggerated motions so that everyone could see, and then held
up one ball alone. She pressed the button on its side, increasing it from
transport to battle-size.
"One versus one,
then," Celeste said.
"Fine by me," Sen
said. He reached into his left pocket and withdrew the minimised Pokéball that
contained the late Richard Sooter's Torchic. He maximised it and held his arm
out before him.
"Go, Torchic!" he
announced. The ball opened in his hand, the white light shot out and Sooter's
Pokémon appeared. It looked around at the crowd, at Sen, and then at Celeste.
Celeste shook her head with
sage disapproval. "A starter Pokémon," she commented derisively. "How original."
Sen bridled. "Okay, so
what've you got then?"
Celeste held up her Pokéball.
"This Pokémon," she said, "is one I've trained for the past five
years, not minutes. He's been my pet since I was eleven,
and my battling partner since I was fourteen." She turned her eyes back on
Sen, then held out the ball.
"Go, Axo!" she cried.
The ball opened, and the white
light that emerged formed into a shape not much bigger than Torchic. As the
Pokémon stopped glowing, Sen was able to make out its appearance: short, blue,
slimy, no arms, two branching gills coming out on either side of its
happy-looking face.
"What is it?" he
asked.
Celeste rolled her eyes.
"He's a Wooper," she said. She grinned. "A
Water type."
"Hey,
unfair!" Sen protested. "I'll lose because of the type
disadvantage!"
"Actually," Celeste
continued in a lecturing tone, "you have two type disadvantages, since
he's also part Ground. But come on, do you really think I'd be so cheap as to
defeat you using a type advantage?" She scoffed. "I'll KO your
Torchic without even using a single Water attack."
Murmurs went through the crowd
at this.
"Fine," Sen said,
"so long as it's fair."
"Fine," Celeste said.
"Shall we begin?"
"Yes," Sen responded
coolly. "Let's."
Celeste's Wooper suddenly lost
its village idiot expression, and, placing one foot before it on the ground,
fixed its determined little eyes on Torchic. Torchic, Sen noticed,
was paying little attention to any of this, and instead pecking and scratching
at the ground.
"Okay, Torchic," Sen
said, trying out a more confident, demanding tone, "let's do this."
He felt rather silly.
"Axo," Celeste said,
and Sen noticed the little Wooper's body tense and its muscles twitch at the
mere sound of its trainer's voice, "let's start off with a Tail
Whip."
The Wooper turned smartly on
its right leg, its posterior suddenly facing Torchic, and began waggling its
tail about, dancing from foot to foot. Torchic looked up, its attention caught
by the rapid movements of the Pokémon's blue tail, eyes following the erratic
path it made.
"Torchic!" Sen cried
out, trying to break the Pokémon out of its fatal distraction, "snap out
of it, don't-"
"Axo, Slam!" Celeste
ordered.
Instantly the Wooper stopped
its mad dance, turned, and threw itself head-first at Torchic. The little bird,
caught off guard, was knocked back off its feet and went sprawling into the
dust, to many oos and aahs and scatterings of applause from the crowd.
"Crap," Sen said. He
tried to be encouraging. "Okay, Torchic, get up, come on, um, you can do
this? I believe in you! You can-"
Torchic, paying Sen no heed
whatsoever, was back up on its feet. Its eyes were locked on the Wooper, its
entire demeanour changed.
"Tor," it spat.
Celeste's Wooper flinched. Whatever had passed between them had not been
pleasant.
"That's more like
it!" Sen said. "Now, let's try a Tackle-"
"TORCHIC!" the little
bird roared with surprising ferocity, and dashed towards the Wooper. Sen was
delighted to see Celeste's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the Pokémon's
speed: it was possessed by the same fury that Sen had seen in it when it had
taken on the Houndoom just yesterday.
He was slightly surprised when,
rather than bodily slamming into the Wooper, Torchic leapt into the air and
brought its beak down, hard, on the Wooper's forehead. The Wooper fell back
onto the ground, and Torchic landed on its chest, drumming its beak against the
Pokémon's forehead several times in succession before leaping off. The Wooper
lay there, surprised and stunned, as Torchic walked in triumphant circles,
calling its name in a victory cry.
Why didn't it Tackle like I
told it to? Sen wondered. Oh well, I'm winning, anyway, who cares?
"Good work, Torchic,"
Sen said, beaming at their growing audience.
Celeste's Wooper rolled onto
its side and got up, shaken but not beaten. "Yeah, come on, Axo!"
Celeste encouraged with a passion Sen could only envy. "Tail Whip,
again!"
The Wooper turned its back on
Torchic to try the attack once more. Torchic stopped running in circles and
faced it.
"No, Torchic," Sen
said, "don't look at it this time! You
should-"
Before he could finish, Torchic
charged at the Wooper, slamming into it head on and sending it sprawling onto
the ground. It leapt onto the fallen Wooper's back and drummed its beak onto
the Pokémon's head again, this time at the back, before jumping off and resuming
its victory lap around the arena.
"Uh, good work," Sen
said, feebly.
"Axo, you okay?"
Celeste said, concern evident in her voice. The Wooper
struggled to its feet again, although this time the effort it took was
considerably greater.
"Woop," it managed.
It was shaky on its feet, and
clearly almost at fainting point. Sen decided the time had come for the coup de
grace.
"Torchic!" Sen cried,
"Finish it off! Tackle, now!"
The orange bird stopped moving
and stared at the opponent.
Excellent, Sen thought, it's
finally listening to me!
But instead of using Tackle as
he had ordered, the Pokémon sat down on the ground, its yellow legs
disappearing under its fluffy orange feathers, and closed its eyes as if going
to sleep.
What the hell? Sen thought.
His joy at the prospect of
victory was falling away as the Wooper regained its senses and turned towards
the still seemingly sleeping Torchic, whose body was now quivering slightly.
"Torchic!" Sen cried.
"Attack it! Peck it! Tackle it! What are you DOING?!"
"It's using Focus
Energy!" one of the people in the crowd shouted out. A few titters.
Sen shot a dark look in the
direction of the laughter. "Oh," he said, "um, thanks."
"Alright, Axo,"
Celeste said, "let's take back the match! Slam
attack!"
Suddenly, Torchic's eyes flitted open.
"TOR!" it cried.
The little bird leapt to its
feet and charged at Celeste's Wooper with blinding speed. The distance it
covered was small, but Sen was nonetheless impressed. There was an audible thud
as the two Pokémon collided, this time Wooper was sent sailing through the air
before it landed at Celeste's feet.
It opened its mouth and let out
a low groan, and a few bubbles formed at the corner of its lips. Evidently, it
was out of the match.
"Oh,
Axo!" Celeste cried, kneeling down beside her Pokémon. "Are
you okay?"
"Tor! Tor, Tor, Tor!"
Torchic laughed, running around in circles.
Sen's chest swelled with pride.
He looked around at the people who had gathered to watch the match, a smirk
forming at the corners of his mouth.
"Well," he said,
talking to Celeste but directing his remarks at everyone, "you certainly
taught ME a lesson. I bow down to your superior training abilities!" He
chuckled to himself.
Celeste stood up, her eyes
furious. "You didn't win that match, you idiot!" she said. "Your
Pokémon didn't listen to a word you said! You're not a trainer, you're a
stooge!" She produced Axo's Pokéball and returned it, looking at Torchic
as it continued to crow its name. "A Pokémon trainer is someone who works
with their Pokémon. They battle together. If you ever want to get serious, you
might consider training that thing."
With a final look of disgust,
Celeste turned and walked through the crowd, leaving Sen standing
alone with twenty or so eyes on him.
"What're you looking
at?" Sen yelled at them. "What?!"
"Tor!" the Torchic
cried. "Tor, Tor, Tor!"
The crowd began to disperse.
Sen returned Torchic to its ball, and put the ball in his pocket. He picked up
his bag, and walked morosely to one of the park benches, where he sat down and
put his head in his hands.
What am I doing? he thought. I have no idea. I'm no Pokémon trainer. That
battle was a disaster - not only did my Pokémon not listen to me, but if it had
we would've lost. My Pokémon knows more about battle strategy than I do. So why
on Earth do I want to be a trainer?
He'd never felt more depressed
in his life, not even when he'd been told to stand and watch as a smug official
from the Pokémon League ripped his trainer card to pieces, a look of superior
disapproval on his face the entire time. At least then his misery had been
tempered by a sense of injustice, and he could rail against the unfairness of
it all.
Now ... well, now he'd had the
chance to prove himself, and he'd blown it. The thing he'd longed for all of
his life, and he was no good.
He took out Torchic's Pokéball
once more and looked at it. A small sphere, one half red, the
other white. Inside it, a little orange bird.
What was it about either of those things that captured his imagination and
galvanised his soul? Why did Pokémon inspire such a passion in him, such a
burning desire to do something, anything with them? Could the universe really
be so cruel as to make him desire something so much ... and make him be no good
at it?
It happened to other people,
after all. The world was full of unrealised dreams. But somehow you never
thought you'd be one of those people, or that it would happen to you. Your
dreams would come true. Your ambitions would be realised. Your wishes would be
fulfilled.
Until reality came crashing in
on your fantasies, and you had to face facts.
You were no good.
Sen's head dropped down further
in misery.
Maybe you're being too hard on
yourself, he thought. Let's look at the facts, here. This Pokémon doesn't
belong to you. You stole it from somebody, a dead person, yesterday. It's
clearly got problems, so is it any surprise that it didn't follow your every
command in battle? You have to earn its respect. That's what everybody's always
harping on about: Pokémon have feelings, too. You wouldn't expect a person who'd been kidnapped to suddenly start loving their
abductor, would you?
What I need, Sen thought, is
another Pokémon. A new one. A wild
one. A blank slate. It'll grow to love me much
more easily than this Torchic, and maybe it'll help me convince the Torchic
that I'm not such a bad guy.
And if not ... well, maybe I
should just ...
No, he thought decisively, a
mental door clanging as an unwelcome memory tried to surface in his mind. I
won't. Not ever again. No way.
He looked at the ball in his
hand, and stood up.
He was going to catch himself a
Pokémon.
~5~
Sen took out his Pokédex and flipped to the Pokémon locations section.
The Peregrine City Mall and the
park he was now in were both set on the outskirts of
The forest in
which he had encountered the Houndoom.
Sen definitely did not want to
go back into those woods. But, looking at the Pokédex, it was clearly a hotspot
for Bug and Grass Pokémon, either of which would make an excellent first
addition to his team. Besides, he thought, I don't have to wander off into the
woods. I'll stay around the edges. The Houndoom had been further away from the
park and the people, towards the middle of the wood. He would simply stay away
from there.
Even so, the thought of so soon
returning to the scene of the crime made him nervous.
What crime? he
thought. You didn't kill anybody.
Yeah, all I did was find the
body, steal his stuff and not report it. I'm a real good
Samaritan.
Nonetheless, it was clear he
would have to catch a Pokémon. And that meant entering the woods. Sen switched
off his Pokédex, packed it into his bag and made his way through the park
towards the trees. Already more and more people were gathering, and he noticed
a few trainers engaging in battles. Celeste was among them, her Wooper
recovered and spraying an unfortunate Zigzagoon with Water Gun. Sen tried not
to catch her eye and hurried past.
As he approached the trees, he
noticed some people gathered around the main entrance to the woods. He slipped
quietly into the trees another way. After all, whatever they were doing, it was
best not to draw attention to himself.
He stuck closely to the path,
always checking that enough light was getting through the trees and avoiding
any forks where the way ahead was too murky. Every now and then he looked
sharply behind, then chastised himself. He was
perfectly safe - he could hear snatches of conversation and laughter from the
people in the park just on the other side of the trees.
For a long time he walked,
excited at the prospect of capturing a Pokémon. As he continued to walk,
halting expectantly at every rustle of a leaf or whisper of a breeze, his
enthusiasm gradually waned.
After ten minutes, he was
growing distinctly bored.
"Okay, Pokémon," Sen
said, stopping in the middle of the path. "Where are you?"
Silence.
"Dammit!" Sen said,
stamping his foot. "Come on! There's bound to be a Pokémon around here
somewhere!"
More silence.
Sen swore.
Suddenly, he heard a rustling
in the undergrowth to his left. He turned to see the bushes shaking. Something
was definitely moving in there. Excitement welled up in Sen's chest - a
Pokémon! He produced Torchic's Pokéball and almost threw it out before he
managed to stop himself - he didn't want to scare it off. The Pokémon had to
appear and accept to battle him, thereby allowing him to catch it if he could.
Besides, he wanted to see what it was first - it might be something crap, like a Sentret.
The rustling stopped, and Sen's
heart sank. Had it gone away? He waited a few seconds. Then the leaves began to
move, and part, and a Bellsprout emerged from the undergrowth and tiptoed
delicately into the clearing.
Elation! Sen thought.
The Pokémon's long thin body
was bent comically, its pot-shaped head swivelling around as it looked for any
aerial insects to snack on. Eventually it noticed the deliriously happy Pokémon
trainer standing before it, and turned its attention to Sen. It mumbled
something that sounded vaguely like "sprout".
A Victreebel, Sen's mind cried,
a powerful, wonderful, beautiful Victreebel! Fabulous!
"GO, TORCHIC!" he
cried, flinging the Pokéball into the air with enthusiasm that had escaped him
during his battle with Celeste. The ball opened and spat out Torchic before
flying back into Sen's waiting hand.
Torchic looked between Sen and
the Bellsprout, which had now turned to face them and was assuming a battle
stance.
"Okay, Torchic," Sen
said, "I want you to-"
"Torchic!" the little
bird cried. Sen saw the Bellsprout react to this
unintelligible statement, but not in the same way Celeste's Wooper had. The
Bellsprout's attention had evidently been caught.
"Torchic, Torchic, Torchic!" the Torchic cried. The Bellsprout looked at
Torchic with an expression that Sen could almost construe as one of disbelief.
"Torchic, Torchic!" the Pokémon continued with a sense of urgency.
"Torchic, TORCHIC!" it finished. The Bellsprout looked shocked.
What the hell was all that
about? Sen wondered.
"SPROUT!" the
Bellsprout said. It was directed at him, he realised, and not Torchic. In
disbelief, Sen saw the Bellsprout turn and walk indignantly back into the
undergrowth, before turning back and firing one last "Sprout!" at
him. Then it was gone.
Sen looked down at the Torchic,
which was staring back up at him. Did he detect an element of smugness in its
expression?
Was I just insulted by a
Bellsprout? he thought. What's going on here?
He tried to read his Pokémon's
expression. There was evident intelligence in those eyes. What had it just said
to the Bellsprout to make it react so?
Had it ratted Sen out as a thief? An impostor? Had it
told the Bellsprout that it had been stolen?
How much did Richard Sooter's
Torchic understand what was going on?
Sen produced Torchic's ball and
pointed it at the Pokémon. "I'll deal with you later," he said as the
red light returned it.
He looked in the direction that
the Bellsprout had departed. Perhaps he could go after it and convince it he
wasn't a bad guy? He didn't want to leave the path, but he wouldn't have to go
far. If he couldn't find it, he'd simply turn back and try his luck with
another Pokémon.
Provided the same thing didn't
happen again...
Sen made his way carefully
through the undergrowth, trying to ignore the fact that his awkward, shambling
progress was distinctly lacking in stealth. Up ahead, he could see the trees
gave way into another small clearing, not unlike the one he had discovered
Richard Sooter's body in, but less large and with no river running through it.
Sen emerged into the clearing.
"Bellsprout." he
cooed, "oh, Bellsprout! Hello... are you there
... come out, please, I'm not a bad trainer, honestly..."
He waited ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. Nothing.
He swore.
He marched to one of the trees
at the edge of the clearing and threw his backpack against it, not caring about
the clattering sound made by the expensive equipment inside. Years of
frustration suddenly bubbled to the surface, and Sen found himself punching and
kicking the tree, punctuating his assaults with a variety of uncommon and
inventive combinations of profanities. He was stopped by a stinging pain in his
hand, and he looked to see he'd badly skinned his knuckles against the bark of
the trunk. He clutched them to his mouth, sucking them.
He began to feel very silly
after losing his control like that. Pokémon trainers were expected to be calm
and stalwart in the face of setbacks like this. Here he was, missing out on one
Pokémon, and he'd just lost it. He really had to gain better control of his
emotions.
He felt something light land on
his head, and put his hand up to feel bits of water on his hair. He looked up,
and another drop landed in his eye. He rubbed it away. Dew?
Knowing his luck, probably an incontinent Aipom. He
heard rustlings in the leaves of the tree above him, growing in speed as
something evidently was falling through the branches, dislodged by his assault
on the tree trunk. Sen backed away a few paces, and then jumped aside as
something big and yellow landed with a thump on the ground where he had been
standing. It rolled against a rock and lay there, motionless.
Sen walked towards it.
It came up to his knee in
length, had it been standing upright and not lying on its side on the ground.
It was bright yellow, and round, in an almost kidney-bean shape. Two large,
jet-black eyes stared vacantly at the world from what they alone determined was
a head. At the top of its head, the remains of an adhesive mix of wax that had
attached it to a tree branch was broken off from where Sen's hitting the tree
had dislodged it.
A Kakuna.
The cocoon stage between
Weedle's metamorphosis into Beedrill. They usually
hung suspended from trees for a few weeks, tended by a protective platoon of
Beedrill, until they emerged into fully-evolved wasp Pokémon themselves.
Completely unable to move, Kakuna were virtually defenceless, which was why
they were usually guarded so closely by their Beedrill parents.
So, Sen thought
as he looked around the clearing, where's your mum and dad?
There were no Beedrill anywhere
to be seen.
Hmm, Sen thought,
it's no Bellsprout, but beggars can't exactly be choosers, can they? He reached
into his pocket and brought out one of the Pokéballs he'd purchased that day.
This would be simple; he wouldn't even have to rely on Torchic's dubious
loyalty.
"Kakuna, you're
mine," Sen grinned, tossing the Pokéball at the prone form of the Pokémon.
The ball bounced off the thick hide of the creature and opened, instantly
sucking the Kakuna inside. The ball closed and fell to the ground, motionless.
It didn't even wobble once.
Hey, Sen thought, I just caught
my first Pokémon!
He chuckled and bent down to
pick up the ball. Rather than do some form of victory dance or pose shouting
"Yeah!", he put the ball in his pocket beside Torchic's and walked
towards the edge of the clearing.
That was when he heard the low
humming sound. Sen turned to see two Beedrill emerge from the trees on the
other side of the clearing. They hovered in the air, their wings making a
pleasant whine that belied their vicious nature. They brandished their
arm-needles, and the vicious stinger on the end of their abdomen protruded
menacingly.
"There's
mum and dad," Sen gulped.
The undergrowth below them
rustled, and Sen saw a Bellsprout emerge. It saw him,
and began waving its leaves urgently, gesticulating towards Sen and shouting
"Sprout, Sprout!" at the two Beedrill.
So that's where you went, you
little git, Sen thought. Off to get reinforcements to
see the nasty trainer out of the woods?
The two Beedrill looked at each
other and began flying towards Sen.
"Don't worry!" he
called, "I'm going!"
Sen ran into the trees, leaping
over the undergrowth and ducking under branches, hoping the dense foliage would
slow his aerial pursuers down. He heard their wings humming, distant, but still
there. He emerged onto the path again, and ran down it as fast as he could. He
couldn't hear the Beedrill anymore, but his breathing and footsteps were so
loud in his ears that he couldn't trust his own hearing.
He followed the path at
breakneck speed and eventually burst out into the park. This was a different
path from the one he had taken into the woods, and it was only as he emerged
that he remembered the crowd of people he'd earlier been trying to avoid. He
saw them, all at a distance, and veered away, hoping no one turned their heads
to see him.
He was so busy concentrating on
the crowd that he didn't see the tall man, until he bumped into him.
"Sorry," Sen said,
hardly noticing. The tall man turned and placed his hand on Sen's retreating
shoulder, commanding him to stay where he was.
"Hey there, what's the
rush?" the man asked. Sen turned around to get a better look at him. He
was enormously tall, and quite broad- shouldered as well. Middle-aged,
late thirties at the very most. Stubble around his
face; dark, extremely short hair, style completely absent. He had one of
those boyishly handsome turned slightly jowly faces that housewives seemed to
find attractive.
"Who wants to know?"
Sen said, narrowing his eyes at this stranger and trying to nip polite
conversation in the bud. He'd had enough of that from Celeste for one day.
The man smiled winningly, and
reached into the inside pocket of the long dark brown coat he was wearing,
producing a small leather wallet. He flipped it open to expose a bright silver
badge.
"Detective John
Chambers," the man said. "And you are?"
~6~
Gravity suddenly seemed to have a much stronger hold on Sen's stomach, and
began trying to pull it down into his legs. He felt the colour drain from his
already pale complexion, and he licked his lips nervously.
"De ... detective?"
he managed.
Chambers put away his badge and
regarded him quizzically. "That's right," he said. "See those
people?" he asked, and pointed over Sen's shoulder. Sen followed his arm
to see the crowd of people gathered at the entrance to the woods. The one he
had taken yesterday when he found Sooter's body. Except now he was paying them
close attention, he could see the crime scene tape that had been placed around
the trees, preventing people from entering the woods that way. He could see the
uniformed police officer fending off questions and onlookers, and telling
everybody to please go away and let the professionals do their work.
Sen turned back towards
Chambers.
"What. what're
you doing here?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"
Chambers was playing the sunny,
breezy, friendly guy, but Sen could feel himself being watched closely.
"Haven't you seen the
news?" Chambers asked. "No, I suppose you haven't, otherwise you wouldn't
have been in the woods, would you?" He smiled to show this was just a
friendly conversation.
Sen's mind reeled. He knew his
distress was evident, so he tried to turn it to his advantage. "Is
something wrong?" he asked, putting his voice up a notch. "Did
something happen in the woods?"
Chambers' demeanour remained
the same. "Body," he said simply. "Young kid.
Dead. 'Bout your age."
He produced a packet of chewing gum from his pocket and proceeded to unwrap it,
but his eyes kept flitting up to gauge Sen's reaction.
Sen's shock was no act. They
found it already??! his mind screamed. Dear God,
they've found his body already?
Aloud, he put a different spin
on his distress: "Somebody's dead? In the woods?
My god, I was just in there!"
"Yeah," Chambers
said. "We haven't closed off the whole place, just the area around the
crime scene. It's still being looked at by our forensics guys." He popped
a piece of chewing gum in his mouth, slurring his words slightly. "Yeah,
some trainer got ripped up by a Pokémon. Some campers discovered him last
night." He offered the packet towards Sen. "Gum?"
Sen stared at it. "No
thanks," he said. Things were becoming distinctly surreal for him.
"So, ah
." he looked at Sen, and Sen was surprised by the intensity and
power of the gaze behind the pally exterior, "what were you doing in the
woods? You a trainer?" He nodded towards Sen's
backpack.
"What? I
. uh . yeah, I'm a
Pokémon trainer," Sen said. "Just started out.
I'm, I mean, I was looking for Pokémon."
Chambers nodded at every word
he said. "ID number?" he asked quickly.
Sen's mind raced. "I ... I
don't know it yet," he apologised.
Chambers grinned. "Don't worry, nobody does for the first few weeks." He reached
into his other pocket and produced a notepad. "Listen, if I could just get
your name and address, and your whereabouts last night? I understand a lot of
the new trainers in town were around here engaging in practice battles
yesterday."
That's it, Sen thought, game over.
"I..."
Chambers waited,
patient and expectant.
"I..., uh, that is ...
I..."
Then Sen's pocket started to
vibrate.
He looked at it quizzically,
before remembering his new cell phone. He'd had it muted all day. He took it
out: there were several missed messages from Charlotte, and her name was now
flashing on the screen as she called him.
"Sorry, my parents,"
Sen said to Chambers. "I have to take this, they've probably seen the news
and they want to see if I'm okay."
Chambers smiled. "I
understand." He put his notebook away.
Sen answered the phone and
walked briskly away from the detective, not even risking a look back.
"
~7~
The body was discovered. The police were involved. It was all over the news.
They didn't know who the victim
had been, but it was clear he had been killed by a Pokémon, possibly a wild
one, although no such Pokémon capable of an attack was known to frequent the
area around
And, amid this hysteria, people
were asking who this poor boy was.
One thing was clear to Sen: he
had to get out of
He got on the first bus out of
town, paid the maximum fare, and took a seat alone near the back. He clutched
his pack tightly and tried to avoid making eye contact with the other
passengers as the bus rode into the night.
~8~
The room was dark. Very, very dark.
There were no windows. Windows
were a bad policy in a place like this. For the people who worked here, windows
were the kind of luxury you got used to doing without.
In the darkness, the bare
outline of a mahogany desk as visible. A bookcase in the
corner of the room. A plant, plastic, the only type
capable of surviving here. A dark shape beside the plant shifted itself
slightly and murmured in a small croaking voice.
"Jesus Christ, it's dark in here," a voice said, and switched on the
desk light.
Instantly illumination filled
the room. Knickknacks and artefacts that certain people and institutions would
have killed to get their hands on glittered and twinkled from their positions
around the room. The dark shape in the corner chuckled to itself and turned
around on its perch, hunching its shoulders and hiding from the light.
"Nevermore," it
croaked.
The man sitting behind the desk
rubbed his brow. The darkness usually helped him think. By blocking out all
distractions, it helped him explore possibilities that others would overlook.
Darkness had been his friend throughout life. It had always shown him the way,
always led him to success.
Except today.
Today it had failed him. There was no other option but the one which had been
staring him in the face.
The man reached across to the
intercom on his desk and pushed a red button. A buzzer sounded, and a distorted
woman's voice asked "Yes, sir?"
"Send him in," the
man said wearily. He continued to massage his brow with a tanned, thin hand.
The skin of his forehead was soft, youthful and brown, in distinct contrast to
his shining white hair. Someone had once said his hair was the only white thing
about him. That had made him smile. It had also made him slightly sad.
The door opened and his
secretary entered, followed by a much larger man. He was almost as wide as he
was tall, with a bald head and a thick, short neck. His secretary indicated the
chair in front of the desk, and the man heaved himself into it. The secretary
smiled and left the room, closing the door behind her.
The large man waited, sweat
breaking out on his brow, his face otherwise lacking in expression. His eyes
occasionally flitted nervously to the dark shape in the corner of the room, but
for a lot of the time he managed to keep them on the person behind the desk.
For a while there was silence.
"You know why you're
here," the white-haired man said.
The heavyset man swallowed.
"Yes," he managed.
The white-haired man's voice
was pleasant, cultured. Reasonable. "Words cannot
convey my disappointment," he said. His eyes, previously downcast,
suddenly flicked upwards and pinned the heavyset man with their intense amber
gaze. "I hope actions will not be necessary to elaborate."
The heavyset man flinched.
"No," he said, "no, no, sir, as I said-"
"Last night," the
white-haired man continued, instantly silencing his companion, "Richard
Sooter checked into a Pokémon Centre in Peregrine City."
The words hung in the still air
of the room. The two men held each other's gaze, one finding he could not break
his eyes away no matter how much he wanted to.
"Also last night, the body
of a mauled Pokémon trainer was discovered in the woods."
Again, the words hung in the
air, laden with doom.
"I don't want excuses. I
don't want to know how it happened. There will be time for that later. Right
now, I know only one thing. Richard Sooter is alive. And I want only one thing.
Do you know what I want you to do?" He raised his
eyebrows inquiringly. They were as white as every other hair on his head.
He leaned across the table,
enunciating each word carefully and aiming them directly into the face of the
heavyset man.
"Deal.
With. It."