Chapter 18

	There were two things in life that Professor Samuel Oak never really liked: one 
was driving an automobile; the other was the dark.
	It was miserably dark out tonight . . . and he was driving home.
	Professor Oak had always had been a careful driver; perhaps even a tad on the 
overcautious side at times. Being a Pokemon researcher he spent most of his time doing 
field work or hunched over a computer monitor. Driving had never appealed to him as a 
thrilling activity or even a relaxing past-time. If anything operating a large and potentially 
dangerous piece of equipment made him feel nervous. He longed for the good old days 
when folks use to travel everywhere on the backs of their reliable Pokemon.
	Needless to say, Professor Oak was driving at about half of the regular speed limit 
as he headed down Pallet Road. He had is high beams on, but could barely manage to see 
more than a few feet of road before him.
	*There is supposed to be a full moon tonight. Where is it? Oh, this darn dark, 
with my luck I’ll run over a Rattata . . .*
	Togepi was strapped securely in a baby seat next to him. Togepi was merrily 
signing along with a Pokemon nursery rhyme on the radio.
	“The itsy-bitsy Spinarak climbed up the water spout! Down came the rain and 
washed the Spinarak out! Up came the sun and dried up all the rain. And the itsy-bitsy 
Spinarak climbed up the spout again!” went the song.
	“Toge-toge-toooooogpiii!” Togepi clapped her petite paws together, beaming 
with joy.
	“Three blind Pichu! Three blind Pichu! See how they run. . .”
	The professor’s face tightened as the next song began. They had been listening to 
nursery rhymes for the past hour. Between the impenetrable darkness and this radio 
station his nerves were slowly grating away. 
	*I remember when Gary was small and wanted to listen to this awful station.* 
The professor swallowed hard. He was fighting a losing battle with his own mind. He had 
ordered himself to keep his thoughts off of his missing grandson. He was supposed to 
focus only on the drive home. *I have to stop thinking about Gary. If I don’t. . . No, I 
will. Because crying in front of Togepi would be awful. Togepi doesn’t know about Misty. 
But she is no doubt starting to suspect. I’m glad I left Togepi with Nurse Joy when I 
searched that mansion in Viridian and found. . .* The professor shuddered, *found all 
that blood . . . they just can’t all be dead. I refuse to believe my grandson is never coming 
home. I am going to find him, no matter what I won’t give up. I just need to keep Togepi’s 
mind off of things. I can’t let her see how rattled I am. She is too young to understand.*
	“How about we listen to my radio show, eh? They are replaying some of my 
greatest shows tonight!” The professor reached his hand towards the radio dial.
	“Tooooooooogggge!” tears erupted from the baby Pokemon’s eyes.
	“Oh dear!” Professor Oak sputtered anxiously. Togepi’s spurting tears were 
saturating his clothing. “This station is fine. I won’t change it! Goodness me.”
	Togepi’s bawls instantly ceased as the nursery rhymes played on.
	“Oh, look, Togepi,” Professor Oak sighed with relief. “We are home. See we’re 
going up my driveway now. I’ll bet you’re hungry. I’ll make you the best tofu stew 
you’ve ever-” the words caught in his in throat like a String Shot around his tonsils. His 
high beams shown upon his front lawn. He blinked twice just to be certain what he was 
seeing was real. After both blinks nothing had changed. *Two blinks never lie!*
	 “AH! What is going on here!?” the professor wailed.
	With the reflexes of a man half his age, Professor Oak bolted from his car and ran 
to his front door. His wide eyes were frantically counting, scanning, and identifying the 
massive group of wild bird Pokemon who had decided to assemble at his residence.
	“Nearly 50 Pidgey’s, over two dozen Pidgeotto’s, a huge Pidgeot! And . .  .birds 
aren’t the only ones in attendance here,” The professor began pointing at different 
Pokemon. “You’re Ash’s Charizard. ALL of Ash’s Pokemon are out here. Why aren’t 
you with Ash?! At least Gary’s Pokemon are obedient enough to stay inside the 
laboratory!” The Professor raked a clammy hand through his grey hair. “Okay, they must 
be here to tell me something. Pidgey’s don’t just gather in enormous groups like this. It is 
not normal. Their usual flocks only consist of ten or twelve . . . perhaps they know 
something about the recent kidnappings? Perhaps they have a message for me. Or. . .”
	The professor’s jumbled thoughts were interrupted as a moderate tugging began 
on his left pant leg. He peered downward and saw Pikachu blinking back up at him.
	“Pi, Pi, Pikachu!” Pikachu waved his hands wildly, attempting to draw the 
professor’s attention.
	The professor bent and quickly lifted Ash’s electric mouse his arms. A pang of 
foreboding vexed his mind. “What is it, Pikachu? Ash left, didn’t he?”
	Pikachu nodded gravely. 
	“I’m not surprised. Poor Delia must be beside herself. But Ash, of course, wants 
to try and help his friends,” the professor sighed out loud, “Naive youth. I was like Ash 
once too. Now, Pikachu, does one of these Pidgey’s know something?”
	Pikachu responded by reaching into the front pocket of Professor Oak’s lab coat. 
He rummaged about for a moment before pulling out a Pokedex. 
	The professor held his breath as Pikachu fiddled with the device. An uneasy 
moment crawled by. Finally Pikachu’s cheeks sparkled, and he handed the Pokedex back.
	“Now, let’s see,” The professor examined screen. “This is a map of the Viridian 
Forest. But what does that have to do-” 
	Pikachu pressed another button and the Pokedex displayed an image. Then its 
computer voice began sharing the programmed information: “Noctowl. Its eyes are 
specially adapted. They concentrate even faint light and enable it to see in the dark.”
	“I. . .” the professor gasped, at last comprehending what was going on. “Ash’s 
Noctowl is in the Viridian Forest!”
	The professor jumped excitedly, pleased by how easily he had communicated 
with Pikachu. He accidentally dropped Pikachu in the process, but fortunately no harm 
was done. 
	“Well what are we waiting for!?” The professor scurried inside his house, 
returning instantly with a first aid kit. “Let’s go! Noctowl must be injured! We haven’t a 
moment to spare! And, oh, oops. . .” at once the professor remembered that Togepi was 
still strapped inside her baby seat. “Just one second, I’m going to leave Togepi with 
Gary’s Blastoise. Then-” he glanced awkwardly at Charizard. “You wouldn’t mind 
giving me a ride to the forest would you? I just, er, it’s night blindness behind the wheel 
you see.”
	Pikachu and Charizard traded unsettled looks. They really did not want Professor 
Oak to be directly involved with their plans. But, now that he was here . . . perhaps his 
human knowledge might come in handy? Pikachu hoped so.
	Charizard was agitated, and displayed his emotions with a snort of flames. 
However, even he had to admit that Professor Oak was much smarter than most humans. 
If Noctowl was as injured as that Pidgey had reported then they would need his 
professional skills. Charizard joined Pikachu and nodded at the professor.
	“Oh, great. Just let me go tell Blastoise,” the professor bustled inside his house. 
He returned almost instantly; poking a confused face around the door frame. “Uh, has 
anyone seen Blastoise?”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0 0o0o0o0o0o0 0o0o0o0o0o0o0
	
	Misty awoke the next morning with a grimace on her face. Her body felt stiff as 
though it were composed of dry leather. Her nose was congested, and she sniffled 
painfully. Her throat was parched and raw. Not surprisingly she had acquired a nasty 
cold. Misty forced her weary eye lids to open.
	It took a few struggling moments; however Misty finally managed to sit up. She 
was still shivering, but too numbed at this point for further despair.
	She looked at Gary through the scant lighting. He was now laying on his left side, 
facing her. Somehow during the night they had shifted positions.
	Gary was sleeping soundlessly, motionlessly. He looked . . . peaceful . . .
	. . . perhaps even too peaceful.
	An urgent twinge began nagging Misty’s senses.
	“G-Gar-y?” Misty’s arid mouth could barely verbalize his name.
	Gary did not react to her call. Misty’s brow furrowed in distress. She leaned over 
him, delicately touching his face. His skin was scalding; she may as well have just stuck 
her hand down a Charizard’s throat. Sweat had plastered his hair to every centimeter of 
forehead. Misty’s touch did not generate even a slim response
	Baffled, Misty lay her hand against his chest. *Why won’t he wake up? He’s alive, 
dead people don’t sweat . . . or have fevers. . .*
	She felt an unmistakable quiver from beneath his ribs. His heart was beating 
feebly. Gary was completely unconscious. It seemed his mind and body had physically 
shut down, unable to cope with any further suffering.
	Misty’s own heart began to thump wildly. *He could die. He could actually die.*
	Her horrible notion was interrupted as the cell door began to creek open.
	Misty gasped. *NO! Derrick will not tolerate Gary sleeping. He’s going to hurt 
him . . . and he can’t even defend himself!*
	“My God. . .  Gary? Wake up!” Misty clutched Gary by his shoulders. She shook 
him as powerfully as she could without causing further harm.
	Gary’s state did not change . . . and the door was now open. Misty recoiled, 
preparing to witness Derrick’s menacing figure.
	What Misty saw shocked the very air from her lungs.
	The duo gaping back at her were equally startled; both of their jaws dropping 
open, eyes wide.
	“TEAM ROCKET?!” Misty shot to feet, her hands flying upward in dismay.
	There was no doubt about it: Jessie and James were standing, clad in their usual 
Team Rocket uniforms, before her.
	“Um,” Jessie blinked momentarily, her usually swift mind faltering. “We didn’t 
know YOU were in here.” Jessie was wearing a small brown backpack. She shifted the 
strap awkwardly. “But, it doesn’t matter. We are stuck with breakfast duty for this wing . 
. . and stuck bringing everyone to the showers. For today anyway.”
	James nodded apprehensively, taking a step backwards.
	Misty began to quiver. “I-I can’t believe it. Team Rocket is behind this? I didn’t 
think even YOU could be so sinister! Why?! WHY?!” her coarse throat burned as she 
forced screams to pass through it. Tears slipped hopelessly from Misty’s eyes.
	James squealed at the sight of her weeping. “Now, now, there,” James honey-
coated each word, “don’t get mad at us. It’s not our fault.”
	“Of course it is!” Misty wailed. “You are evil! CRUEL!”
	“Hey!” Jessie took a defensive step forward. “Take it easy. You think Team 
Rocket wants to be helping these crazy Revivalists?! We have about as much choice in 
helping them as you do to be in this cell!”
	Misty’s eyes flickered with turmoil. “W-what? Are you telling the truth?”
	James jade eyes seared into Misty’s. “They warned our boss months ago that the 
beast would come for him. They promised to grant him sanctuary if he would help them. 
Of course: he told them off. He laughed at the idea of it all . . . we all did. Who knew this 
beast thing was actually real?”
	“These Revivalists are an ancient bunch of lunatics of you ask me,” Jessie barked.  
“Ancient as dirt and poor as it too. They went after the money. You can’t pull an 
operation like this off without big bucks, I’ll tell ya that.” 
	“At least they are treating our boss well!” James smiled to himself. “And when 
they find who they are looking for they will release our boss. . . providing he is not ‘the 
one’ and all. . .” James trailed off.
	“Who are they looking for?” Misty demanded. “I don’t understand. Are you doing 
this for your boss? To save him?”
	James grinned. “Jessie and I have a pla-”
	 Jessie abruptly clasped a hand over his face, silencing him.
	“Enough, James. You wanna end up in the next cell?”
	“Eeeek!” James slapped his own two hands over his mouth, shaking his head 
fiercely.
	*A plan?!* Misty scowled inwardly. *Oh, please tell me these three do NOT have 
a plan. They’ll just make everything worse no matter what they try . . . even so, I wonder 
what the three of them are up to? Hey- wait a second someone’s missing!* Misty stared 
hard at Jessie and James. “Where is Meowth anyways?”
	“He’s busy, not that it’s any of YOUR business. He has an important job to do. 
He has to fill these. Here,” Jessie tossed Misty a brown paper bag. Inside was a protein 
bar and a can of water. “Eat up, we need to hurry to the showers or else you’ll miss your 
chance. We don’t want to be all grubby now do. . .”
	Jessie fell suddenly silent; her eyes seeming to now notice Gary for the first time.
	“Hey, twerp,” Jessie called to the unconscious Gary. “Get up, or you won’t eat 
again till dinner.”
	Gary didn’t flinch.
	“Hey! Don’t ignore me,” Jessie stomped over to Gary and scrutinized him.
	“What’s wrong with him?” James asked, genuinely concerned.
	Jessie’s clenched jaw loosened. She turned to Misty. “W-what happened to him?”
	“They have been beating him. His ankle is broken, and God knows what else. I 
can’t wake him up. . .”
	“Does he have a fever?” James questioned.
	Misty nodded, praying that Team Rocket understood how grave Gary’s condition 
was.
	Jessie nibbled her lower lip. “James,” she murmured. “Take him to the sick 
ward.”
	James instantly bent down and gently raised Gary’s limp frame into his arms. 
Jessie and James exchanged a questioning glance.
	Then, without uttering another word, James carried Gary quickly from the cell.
	“Wait!” Misty lunged forward to reach James. Only Jessie took a step between 
them, blocking her path.
	“Leave him alone,” Jessie snapped. “James will make sure that kid sees a doctor. 
As for you,” Jessie reached into her pockets and tossed Misty some cough soothing 
drops. “Sounds like you could use these.”
	Misty gratefully accepted the medication. Overwhelmed by fatigue and hunger 
she began stuffing the protein bar and water inside her mouth.
	Jessie pivoted uncomfortably as she watched Misty greedily inhale the food.
	“Don’t expect to keep that petite little figure if you eat like that.”
	Misty shot Jessie with an irate stare.
	“I was just kidding,” Jessie stated flatly. “Trying to lighten the mood.”
	Misty finished guzzling down the last droplets of water. This small can did little 
to quench her devastating thirst . . . but she had to confess, her mouth felt somewhat 
refreshed.
	“Finished?” Jessie narrowed her eyebrows. “Like I said before, if you don’t 
shower now you won’t get another chance today.”
	Misty’s hopes began to ascent just imagining warm water and clean soap. She 
walked over to Jessie.
	“Take me to the shower, I’m ready.”
	Jessie shrugged. “Okay. Like, no offence but,” she reached into her back pack, 
pulling out a thick rope.
	Misty trembled at the sight of it. *Derrick and his rope!* She fingered her sore 
throat protectively.
	Jessie winced with pity, but masked it almost immediately.
	“Look, kid. I won’t tie it tight or yank on it. But if you leave the cell without a 
rope these damn Revivalists will get suspicious. Trust me,” Jessie frowned sternly. 
“you’d much rather it were me than them.”
	Misty agreed. She allowed Jessie to approach her with the ropes. As promised, 
Jessie slipped the rope gently over Misty’s head.
	“Let’s go.” Jessie led her carefully from the cell.
	Misty’s eyes burned painfully as they adjusted to the brightly illuminated hallway. 
Jessie guided her down a corridor opposite from the one Derrick had taken them down 
yesterday.
	“Jessie,” Misty whispered. “Who else have you seen?”
	Jessie ignored her, picking up her pace.
	“Jessie,” Misty was a little louder. “Please?”
	Jessie stiffened. “Keep quiet!”
	An uncomfortable moment lulled by.
	“The other twerp,” Jessie spoke finally. “The sappy one who falls in love with 
every bimbo he sees. He’s okay, if that’s what you wanted to know.”
	Even though Misty had already briefly seen Brock, verbally hearing that he was 
fine was a great comfort. “Brock. His name is Brock.”
	“Whatever,” Jessie snarled, uninterested. 
	“Do you know about Ash?” Misty did not care if she wore on Jessie’s nerves. She 
had to know whether or not Ash was safe.
	Jessie groaned in annoyance. “How should I know? I’m only working this wing. 
If that little brat was kidnapped he could be anyplace.”
	“Where ARE we?”
	Jessie stopped abruptly and glared down at Misty. “Shut up. Enough questions.”
	Misty clenched her fists with frustration. Fine, no more questions. At least for 
now.
	“Here we are,” Jessie beamed to herself. 
	They stood before a dull brown door. It looked like the entrance to a broom 
closet. Misty squinted skeptically.
	Jessie unlocked the door and raised a gloved hand, gesturing for Misty to step 
inside. “This is a small bathroom. Take a fast shower. I’ll be waiting outside the door. No 
funny business, okay?”
	Jessie pulled the rope from Misty’s head, and then handed her another brown 
paper bag. Misty accepted it suspiciously, peering inside. There was an odorless bar of 
soap; a flimsy toothbrush; and a sample-sized tube of cheap mint toothpaste.
	Jessie noted Misty’s blank expression and sighed inwardly.
	Misty turned and walked inside the cramped bathroom. 
	No sooner had she shut the door did a knock emit from the other side. Misty faced 
the door. Jessie stood in front of her wearing an impenetrable poker face.
	“I, uh, forgot to give you these,” Jessie handed Misty a bundle of stainless white 
flannel clothing -- complete with small slippers. “Every trainer has to wear these. Leave 
your other clothes on the floor.”
	Misty embraced the fabric gratefully. It was warm. 
	Once the door clicked shut behind her again, Misty took the liberty of examining 
her new attire. It looked like a robe, but had flannel pants. *It looks like a karate gee,* 
Misty decided. *Only without a belt.* The outfit was certainly not intended for a young 
girl -- it was horribly baggy. However, Misty was satisfied; the fabric was certainly clean 
and insulated. 
	As she went to set the clothes on a near by sink, something slipped from them, 
dropping to the ground. Misty saw a familiar silver bottle. It had apparently been rolled 
up in the sleeve of the shirt top.
	Misty picked it up curiously; a genuine grin pricking her lips. 
	“Flaming Locks Shampoo,” Misty mused. “My favorite. . .” 
	Flaming Locks was a unique shampoo designed just for red heads. It was 
extremely expensive; available only by special order in the best salons. *Jessie must use 
the same shampoo that I do.* Misty realized thoughtfully. *I can’t believe she’d share 
this with me.*
	Remembering that her time was drastically limited, Misty quickly scrubbed her 
teeth clean and then undressed. She carefully unwrapped the bandage on her upper left 
thigh, not wanting it to become soaked. *I wonder why they bandaged me?* Beneath the 
bandage was a scab the size of her fist. *Good Lord! What happened to me?! Oh, I have 
no time to examine this now.*
	Misty leapt into the dreary shower stall. Mildew and some other sort of gray fungi 
were thriving between the tiles on the flooring. 
	Misty cringed, and turned the faucet on; she half expected mud to slop down on 
her from the duct above. To her genuine relief: water began sprinkling upon her face. The 
water had a slight sulfur scent to it, but it was clean and hot.
	She savored every moment, allowing the waterfall of consolation to enfolded her. 
Misty poured some Flaming Locks over her head. She inhaled deeply as the steam 
unclogged her stuffy nose. She relished the tantalizing tropical aromas of the shampoo. 
Flaming Locks was so heavily perfumed the eggy smell of the sulfur was barely detected 
anymore.
	 It felt incredible to rid her hair off all the sweaty build up, clearing her pores of 
grime. As she began to cleanse her flesh with the bar of soap Misty’s mind wandered. . .
	*I can’t believe Team Rocket is being somehow blackmailed too. I can’t imagine 
the extent of this hideous situation. These ‘Revivalists’, as Jessie called them, what kind 
of power do they have? Are they just serving the will of that beast? Does It control them? 
Or is it the other way around? It could be looking for any one of us. Even for me or my 
sisters. . .  I hope they are okay. Daisy, Lilly, Violet . . . I’ll never complain about any of 
you ever again if you’ll just be okay . . . and Tracey . . . what happened to you? You’re 
not really even a trainer.*
	Misty’s lips trembled as she rinsed the shampoo from her hair.
	*Oh, Ash . . . as long as you’re safe I can find a way to get through this. . . I know 
I can pull through if I know you’re waiting for me. I couldn’t bear to see them ever harm 
you. Not you . . . how would you handle it? You aren’t capable of anything mean or 
malicious. You are the most innocent and genuine person I have ever known. There are 
so many things I need to say to you. So many things that I never had the courage to say 
before. Ash, I never want you to be forced to submit . . . to be forced to . . . to grow up . . . 
not be forced to like Gary has. . . * Misty’s thoughts lingered on his name.* . . .Gary. . *.
	Misty jumped suddenly! Startled, as Jessie pounded on the door.
	“C’mon!” Jessie roared. “This isn’t a spa, you know.”
	Misty scrambled out of the shower stall; nearly slipping on the stone floor for 
there was no bath matt present. In fact there was not even a towel for Misty to dry herself 
with. 
	Misty freed an exasperated sigh. She struggled with grievous difficulty into her 
new white flannels. 
	“Okay, I-I’m dressed.”
	Jessie opened the door. Misty returned the brown paper bag with the soap, 
toothbrush, and the shampoo. “Thanks,” Misty meant it.
	Jessie avoided her eyes uncomfortably and proceeded to slip the rope around 
Misty’s neck again. “For . . .what?”
	Misty’s brows drew together. “For the shampoo-”
	Jessie cut her off, flipping her long red hair to the side. “Oh, how annoying! It 
must have gotten mixed up in the bag. I carry all my personal items with me in here. I 
don’t trust these Revivalists not to steal something. Hum, the nerve of you using MY 
shampoo. That stuff is pricey, not that I expect you would know quality when you saw 
it.” Jessie was overdoing the false anger.
	Misty smothered a smirk. “Yeah, I guess.” Jessie wanted her generosity to be kept 
a secret. Misty could handle that.
	Jessie seemed flustered. “Let’s move. We are going to be late for your battle. 
They have been going at it all morning, and you’re up pretty soon.”
	“They already started the battles?!”
	“What, are you deaf too?” Jessie fluttered her eyes with annoyance. “Hurry up!”
	Jessie pulled slightly on the rope; not enough to harm Misty, but enough convey 
that they needed more motion and less talk. 
	They were jogging, unspeaking, up a lengthy set of stairs. When they got to the 
top Jessie halted turning towards another giant steel door, identical to the one Derrick had 
led she and Gary through before. “Wait here,” Jessie ordered frankly, tying the other end 
of Misty’s rope leash to the door handle.
	Jessie spun 180degrees on her heels, quickly vanishing back down the stairs.
	“Wait, what about Gary?” Misty called.
	Misty’s question was either not heard or ignored.
	She stood alone now; glowering ominously at the iron door. Misty was only 
waiting for a moment. Before her the door was craned open . . . Derrick waiting for her 
on the other side.