Chapter 6 Misty's fist rapped wildly on the gigantic bronze door. She knew she was at the correct building for the mailbox read: ‘Pokemon Watchers of Tomorrow.’ *This IS the place that Tracey said he'd meet me. C'mon! Someone open the door!* She was slightly annoyed. *Tracey told me this was where he was staying . . . why won’t anyone answer!?* The next door facility was the Viridian City Gym. A faint smile fluttered across Misty's face as she recalled the joyous day Ash had won his Earth badge. Her smile quickly dissolved. *Gary Oak saved Ash's life that day. . . when Meowth was electrocuting the podium Ash stood on . . . Gary attacked Meowth -- he never thought twice about his own safety. Gary just tackled Meowth. Poor Gary. . . I hope he's not . . . not . . . * Misty shuddered, unable to finish her terrifying notion. She was becoming increasing agitated: now the twilight sky was spewing rain. Thunder erupted about the atmosphere, overpowering her ears. Between the striking snares of lighting and the ferocious torrents of wind, the storm had succeeded in taking down more than seven or eight tree branches around where she stood, drenched, on this front stoop. *Oh my god! I’m going to slammed by a tree or blown away by this wind! Somebody HAS to let me in!* "Hello? Is anybody here?!" Misty could barely hear her own voice over the caterwauling wind. This is just great, Misty remarked dryly. *I have spent the last three hours hiking through this storm to meet Tracey, and he doesn't even bother to answer the door!* Overcome by rage, Misty slammed one of her feet into the door. The act did not manage to produce a sound loud enough to overcome the monstrous thunder . . . but the yelp of pain which exploded from her mouth did. Whoever dwelled inside the enormous mansion heard her resounding cry and answered the door. "Yes? Who is there?" a ghostly male voice boomed from the opposite side of the door. "My name is Misty Waterflower! I'm here to meet Tracey Sketchit. I'm really soaking wet, could you let me in?!" she was on the verge of ringing this mysterious fellows neck for interrogating her while she stood out in a treacherous storm. "Oh!" The man's tone was strangely pleased. "Misty, eh?" he peeled open the huge alloy door. "Do come in, my dear!" She quickly scampered inside and rang out her short ponytail. Her sopping hair and saturated clothes nearly destroyed the fine carpeting in the main hall as a vast puddle expanded beneath her feet. Misty saw the damage she had done and looked up at this mysterious man with ample embarrassment. "Gee, Mister . . . sorry about the carpet, I-" she stopped abruptly and gasped once her eyes landed on his face. There was something oddly disturbing about this mans face. He was extremely elderly-- wrinkles completely dominated his off-white flesh. His lips were so thin and weary they resembled moist thread. His oyster-gray hair was composed of mangled tufts. His eyes were the shade of old sidewalk slate. He smirked down at her; his teeth (all three of them) were the color of candle wax and crooked. Around his head was a red bandanna and his clothes were composed of a mere pale green suit. "I. . ." Misty attempted to mask her sudden fright brought on by his appearance. "Is, uh . . . is Tracey here?" He mans eerie grin tightened and he chuckled wholeheartedly. "Tracey has a young lady visitor AT THIS late hour?! It is about time!" Misty flushed hard at the man’s misinterpretation of her visit. "No!" she barked. "I'm only his friend. My sisters have been kidnapped by that sick Pokemon trainer thief; and Tracey called me earlier and offered to help me search our gym for clues. That’s it! He's very anxious to help me, in fact he has made him self ill with worry for me." The man raised his hands in defense. Misty thought his hands looked like crumpled paper. "I'm just kidding, little lady! I know who you are, Misty. . . Tracey has been expecting you." Misty breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, can you bring me to him please?" The old man bowed his head and gestured for her to follow him up a long winding stair well. Misty couldn't shake an unsettled feeling about this creepy place or this grotesque old man. The mansion - which she was currently being led through - was lavishly decorated. It was overflowing with old fashion medieval knight’s armor, swords, shields, and even furniture which seemed to be from that era. She half expected King Arthur himself to leap from one of the shadows. All the way up the stairwell the man kept eyeing her backpack with intense curiosity. Misty could not figure out why. Finally, as they neared the top of the stairs, she clamored: "Why do you keep staring at my backpack?!" The man appeared caught off guard, but recovered promptly retorting: "Is that where you keep your Pokeballs?" Misty's face creased with confusion. "Why?" "Oh! I was just wondering. I mean, Tracey has told me so much about you and your great training skills. . ." the man glanced quickly away. Misty nodded, blushing slightly that Tracey had bragged about her to his new friends. "Well, here we are, dear," the man whacked loudly on a rusty blue door which was located at the very summit of the stairwell. "Tracey lives WAY up here? I mean it's a nice place and all but, that is quite a long hike to have to walk a few times everyday." The man contorted his body toward her threateningly. "Tracey doesn't leave his room much." Misty wasn't sure if it was the snicker in the mans voice as he spoke or the bizarre words which he emitted but, suddenly, her veins tuned to ice. "I-I want to see Tracey right now." Misty’s tone was filled with demand. The man angrily snatched a firm grip on her left wrist and pushed her towards the opening door. "That can be arranged,” he hissed. She gasped as she was shoved onto the hardwood floor inside the room. Misty had lost her breath for a moment. Behind her the old man darted inside the room. Misty heard the lock on the door click shut. She was trapped inside now . . . trapped inside the room with him.