Oh, man… I can’t get over how long this has taken! I’ve just been soooo busy lately! My English Writing Pre-Lim was today, and, although the story I used was a bit too Battle Angel Alita to use in any of my fics, it gave me a bit of inspiration, so, here we are!

By the way – Alex? Good point. I used a farm because I don’t think many people can imagine living in an arboretum full-time – most people just associate plants with farms. That actually is my way of saying that I hadn’t thought of an arboretum. ;

Disclaimer: Zarrah is not in any way associated with Pokemon, 4Kids Entertainment or Satoshi Tajiri, but, once the patent comes through for the serum, they’ll be right where I want them… Hehehe…

Serum: Part Three

By :Zarrah:

The head doctor was poring over the weekly reports. Trixie DeCart was getting on well – after a few more eye colour changes, after which they had managed to stay emerald green, her powers had begun to assert themselves – she was now fully capable of a Vine Whip attack from her arms, a Leer, and Sweet Scent, and she could pull off a couple of Razor Leaves at a time – she was getting stronger almost all the time, as well.

There had also been something noted about her mind. She now fully believed she was a person completely different from her profile – she had lived on a farm (she’d lived in suburban Celadon City) loved hay (she was supposed to have Hay Fever) and there were various others that just had nothing to do with her city upbringing. The serum was obviously more powerful than it was believed.

Maybe Team Rocket shouldn’t have been meddling in such powerful things…

His mind shook that off. Another report said that there were six examples of the Serum finished and being properly used now –

Fire

Grass

Bug

Flying

Ground

Psychic

Dragon

The rest – Ice, Water, Dark, Rock, Steel and Electricity were still in the late stages of testing. The Ditto serum, the final and most powerful one, was in basic testing stages, having reduced its subjects to gooey mush in past tests. Not a pleasant thing.

The final report noted a shortage in Rocket Grunts for the rest of the testing. The doctor sighed. If more Grunts didn’t sign up, they’d be forced to pluck trainers off the streets. While Giovanni would relish that notion, the doctor himself was a more humane man, and he didn’t want it to come to that.

::

That morning, there was to be a meeting of the Police, the Pokemon League Officials and the local councillors of each sector of the country – it was about the only thing that called for such a meeting. Team Rocket.

Each councillor (a representative of the sectors – Johto, Kanto and the Orange Archipelago) had its concerns about the organisation. Not that anybody was complaining, but there had been next to no Pokemon thefts lately. Little things, like robbing Rookies in the forest had been going on, but even they seemed opportunistic – like the Rookie Pokemon were there for the picking… In Team Rocket’s case, the silence could only mean trouble.

“We should be happy about this!” An Officer Jenny argued. “Team Rocket are leaving us alone for a while, and all we’re doing is complaining! We should just be working out a way to completely stop the attacks!”

“That may be true, but we all know what Team Rocket are like…” Johto’s representative said sadly, “There have been no decreases in the number of ships seen, or Grunts spotted, just an almost complete stoppage of attacks. We would go after the ships and grunts, but most are seen by civilians, and by the time the police arrive on the scene, they’re long gone.”

A League Official spoke up, “Does anyone have any idea about what to do about this?”

A scattering of murmurs told him no.

Suddenly, Kanto’s representative spoke up. “Spies. We should send in spies to check up on them. And it would have to be at least two people, disguised as Grunts – who have to be around the ages of ten to fifteen, which is the average Grunt age.”

“Yeah, but who?” Another League representative asked.

“I have an idea…” The Viridian City Jenny, who had spoken earlier, said quietly.

::

The morning dawned bright – the Pidgey were singing, the sun was shining, and a lot of early morning trainers had got out their Pokemon to enjoy the early morning sunlight. They capered around their trainers, licking hands, and crying out in their own languages happily.

Three trainers didn’t feel like celebrating, however. Ash Ketchum and his friends, Misty and Brock, hadn’t had a good night. That morning, they had to tell their other Pokemon about the situation, and, while Chikorita didn’t seem as overly upset as she really should have, there had been a lot of distressed crying, and Ash’s Bulbasaur had finally crawled onto his lap to get some comfort – something so rare for the usually proud Pokemon that it made Ash cherish the moment even more, and he hugged the Grass Pokemon close to him, as if he could somehow pull the strength from it to make himself feel better.

After a short while, Bulbasaur yelled something that neither Brock or Misty understood, but Ash certainly did, judging from the way he loosened his grip, allowing Bulbasaur to jump from his arms, and from his subdued, raspy,

“Sorry, Bulbasaur –”

Nurse Joy approached the group, a look of polite sympathy on her face. She was quite used to seeing this kind of thing, and while the compassion for both trainer and Pokemon was still there, she had learned not to commit herself too closely to it – it just wouldn’t help anybody.

“Ash Ketchum?”

Three sets of anguished eyes focussed on her, and the hope radiating from them made her heart ache.

“There’s a phone call for you, from Pallet Town.” The youngest boy, who she presumed to be Ash, jumped up and sprinted for the nearest phone, followed very closely by the other two trainers and the five Pokemon not in their Pokeballs.

Ash got to the phone before anybody else and pulled the receiver from its slot with one shaking hand. The vid screen flickered and revealed Professor Oak’s kindly face. He looked worried and drawn, and was seemingly dreading whatever he was about to say.

Ash didn’t notice any of this, however, and instead was focussed on the remote possibility that Professor Oak had come through, as he always had before, and his Pikachu was there at the lab, alive and well.

“Hello, Ash – er, how are you?” Ash was too miserable to even be annoyed at the oblivious question, and instead babbled,

“When do we leave for Black Island?” Professor Oak looked away, and sighed heavily.

“The island – Black Island, is only reachable by submarine or airship—“

“Then we get a submarine – easy… Right?” Ash looked so pathetically hopeful it was both heart warming and painful at the same time. Oak sighed again.

“Well, we – that is, the League – have a favour to ask. We believe that this island is the locale of Team Rocket’s secret HQ, and that if we send in spies, we can sabotage the base from the inside out. It will have to be children, though, for authenticity… Children your age.” Ash’s brown eyes widened, and Oak could almost feel the explosion working up inside him, until it came out with a shrilled,

“Team Rocket?! No way – no, no, No! Professor!” Misty and Brock looked suitably horrified, and Ash looked furious! His eyes were smouldering hotly, and his fists were clenched and shaking.

“H-how can you ask Ash to do this, Professor? They’ve just stolen his first Pokemon, and you want him to work for them?” Brock, ever the diplomatic one, tried to reason with him. It was useless. As much as he disagreed with their methods, Oak did think that there was something gravely wrong, and besides, this might just work out in Ash’s favour.

“Ash, my boy, I know you’re… not in favour of this arrangement,”

Understatement of the century

“but this might just be what we need. You might be able to get in and get your Pikachu back from them, and find out what they’re doing at the same time. There are three of you, after all – you don’t all have to do the same thing.

Think of how many Pokemon you’ll be saving by doing this. Think of your role as the Chosen One.”

Ash’s face fell, and Oak knew he would agree. And Misty and Brock would, too.

“O-Okay, Professor. I don’t like it, but I’ll do it for the Pokemon. Er – I don’t want to take my Pokemon in there…”

“You won’t have to – I have three Pokemon for each of you here that I’ll transport to you as soon as possible. Now, if you want to send all of your Pokemon now…”

Ash, looking paler, and more drawn than Oak thought he’d ever seen him, unclipped his Pokeballs from his belt, one by one, and put them onto the machine, gazing at each one like it was a lifeline he was being forced to give up. Misty was slowly reaching around in her bag for her own Pokeballs, her eyes shining, and Brock was taking his from his vest pockets, the grim look never leaving his face.

Finally, when all of their Pokeballs were in separate piles of red and white, among others, on the transport pad, Professor Oak initiated transport. The three piles of varying sizes on the pad were replaced with a sizzling white zap, and three piles of three red and white spheres, each single globe a glaring reminder of Ash’s torment.

First, Team Rocket stole Pikachu, and now, in a roundabout way, they had taken all of his other Pokemon, too.

Well, no more. The grief in his heart began to fade, and instead, Ash began to feel something unfolding in his gut that he’d never felt so wholly before – hate. Hate for Team Rocket, for Jess, James, Meowth, their Boss and every little Grunt who had ever picked up a black Rocketball. In his mind’s eye, he could see them all consumed in ebony flames of hate, burning, burning…

“Ash? Ash?” Misty. Her slender hand shook his shoulder gently and he forced himself away from the black. Professor Oak met his eyes, as if waiting for approval, and Ash gave it, nodding slightly and giving a watery grin. Oak gave a sympathetic smile and glanced to a computer terminal beside the monitor.

“You need to be in Saffron City as soon as you can get there. I can pay for the transport, if you’d like…”

“No – I’d—I’d rather walk, thanks Professor.”

Oak nodded. “And you need to be in the Saffron City underground Marketplace. I’ll give you directions when you reach Saffron Pokemon Centre, OK?”

Ash, Brock and Misty nodded. “Right, we’ll be there.” Brock affirmed.

“Good luck, kids.” The professor smiled again, and the phone blacked out. Ash turned on the chair to gaze at Misty and Brock. They looked worried, Misty especially, but above all else, determined. To find Team Rocket, and to find their friends.

For the first time in ages, Ash felt the beginnings of a smile. Oh, yeah – Team Rocket wouldn’t know what hit them.

::

Oh, man – it’s April now – I started this in December! God, I’m soooo lazy!! I’ll try to get more out faster!