Chapter Eight: Incentive 
 
Guess who just got back today? 
Them wild-eyed boys that had been away 
Haven't changed, haven't much to say 
But man, I still think them cats are crazy.  
-Thin Lizzy 
 
She'd be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. The plan wasn't exactly fool-
proof. It relied a lot on luck, on Giovanni's guard being low, and on Gary's 
"criminal" capabilities. Because what they were doing certainly wasn't legal.  
 
But, Misty figured while putting on the final touches to her own role, what 
goes around comes around. A little bit of criminal activity would be needed 
to outwit a criminal. And this was just the edge of the precipice. If they 
really had to rescue Ash from the WI organization, this wouldn't be the first 
plans of questionable legality.  
 
Misty was surprisingly pleased with herself though. The plan was really quite 
ingenious. Even Gary had been struck by how remarkable bold the undertaking 
was. It had Ash's touch to it. Impulsive, reckless, throwing the entire pot 
into one roll- it was a risk Misty wasn't accustomed to making on her own. 
But if she didn't, then who would? 
 
Despite the availability of Brock in Pewter or Tracey in Pallet... the two 
agreed that the less people knew of their plans the better. There was no need 
to bring more witnesses to their moment of indiscretion. They would have to 
be alone in this undertaking. 
 
And time was of the essence. Not only was Ash's wellbeing hanging in the 
balance, but Giovanni's own guard would be down. He certainly wouldn't expect 
an attack so soon after just being attacked.  
 
Misty gave herself one last look over in the mirror. She didn't even 
recognize herself. With a smile and a blown kiss to her reflection, Misty 
knew she was ready.  
 
 
 
He didn't remember being unconscious. But suddenly he found himself aware, 
floating in a sort of semi consciousness. Ash opened his eyes to darkness. 
The only visible figure was his own body, glowing faintly in the deep black 
rabbit hole he was falling down; slow, agonizingly slow. He felt his hair 
slowly swaying as the only physical sense of his decent.  
 
Ash opened his mouth and in surprise found bubbles erupting from his lips, 
racing each other to the surface. He covered his lips, and looked around 
himself blearily for a break in the endless black water. There was none.  
 
A burning began to build up in his chest. Fearfully, Ash began scrambling 
upward. He pushed against the current with strong deliberate arm and leg 
strokes. Finally, after what felt like several life threatening minutes, Ash 
felt one of his hands break the surface.  
 
Between his fingers, Ash grasped what felt like gritty sand. He thrust his 
other hand up as well, pulling himself up through a dune. Gasping and 
sputtering, Ash heaved the rest his wet body through. He coughed up a mixture 
of sand and water.   
 
For a long moment, he just laid on the beach with his eyes closed taking in 
deep meaningful breaths of air. He could smell the salt in the air and hear 
the waves pulsing against the beach; like a heart beat. It was calming after 
having woken up in such an unfamiliar and frightening setting.  
 
Reluctantly Ash pried open his eyes. It was incredibly bright wherever he was 
now. But try as he might, Ash could see no sign of sun or the waters he was 
sure he had heard when his eyes were shut. He lay, drying in what appeared to 
be an endless yellow desert.  
 
Ash pulled himself up to his knees, dusting off what sand clung stubbornly to 
his wet body. And he paused in the midst of doing so, startled by the clothes 
he wore. Brilliant white garments hung loosely to his body- a cotton white 
tank top and slacks. His feet were starkly naked, as were his hands that he 
usually adorned with biker gloves or other some sort of wrist band. Who had 
dressed him? And how did they have clothes so impossibly white?  
 
Then a thought raced through his mind that chilled him inside and out. Am I 
dead? 
 
He felt as though someone had set fire to his veins. His mind spun around the 
idea. And yet, all he could do was stare pointlessly at his sand caked hands.  
 
Everyone was probably missing him. Pikachu. Ash couldn't bare to think how 
his Pokemon was dealing. Misty. Would she cry? Would she be angry for leaving 
her again? And then his mother... 
 
Ash swallowed hard and shook away his paralysis. He couldn't be dead. This 
had to be some sort of bizarre dream. Or perhaps he had been struck by a 
nightmare attack, strange effects those.  
 
Ash had the unfortunate privilege of finding out first hand what such an 
attack had on humans. Painful, terrifying and horribly realistic dreams. Not 
fatal, thankfully. But Ash was in a hospital for at least a week after the 
fact, just recovering from the emotional turmoil it had put him through.  
 
But if this were a nightmare induced dream, it was too calm. When he had been 
struck by the nightmare attack before, Ash suffered from disjointed and 
confusing but no less torturous dreams. This dream seemed rather straight 
forward. And rather uneventful.  
 
Ash thrust his hands down into the warm sand. It felt real enough. And there 
was no sign of the black water he had just recently escaped from. It was as 
if the sand sealed up behind him. He sighed miserably, lifting his hands back 
out again. No sooner had he shook the sand off his hands, had there come a 
strong "tanging" sound in the air.  
 
Ears ringing with the sound, Ash glanced around himself. A ball landed right 
in front of him, nearly knocking Ash backwards in fright. It bounced up again 
landed a few feet away before tumbling down the far side of the dune.  
 
Ash stood up with intent to follow the strange object when a soft sound 
tickled his ears. It was like Christmas bells. Turning warily, Ash found 
himself face to face with a Pokemon the likes he had never seen before.  
 
It was a pale pink, no bigger than Pikachu in size with brilliant teal 
colored eyes. It reminded Ash of a Persian, except with larger eyes and a 
more innocent expression on its face. It floated several feet of the ground, 
its face level with Ash's own.  
 
"Mew," it said.  
 
Ash stumbled back, falling smartly on his bottom. The pinkish Pokemon just 
giggled at him, covering its mouth and then twirling in circles. Ash stared 
at it unblinkingly.  
 
"What are you?" 
 
"Mew?"  
 
"Mew? Is that your name?"  
 
The Pokemon shrugged as if to say "more or less".  
 
Although he knew it was completely ludicrous, Ash swore he thought he might 
actually have heard what the Pokemon was saying to him. Past the words- like 
a little subconscious voice in the back of his head was translating for him.  
 
He didn't even understand what Pikachu was saying to him. How could he, with 
a Pokemon he had never seen before- never even interacted with before, 
understand its language?  
 
Mew looked him in the face, uncomfortably close. And Ash distinctly heard 
what sounded like a female voice whisper in the back of his head, "chosen 
one."  
 
Ash inhaled sharply and tried to lean back, away from the pokemon's intruding 
glare. But there was no avoiding it. Mew was waiting for an answer.  
 
"I'm... I'm not that. I- I only pretended... that time, it was a coincidence! 
An accident!" 
 
Mew shook its head, "no accident, child. there are never any accidents. we 
chose you... when we killed you."  
 
Ash felt his heart skip. The familiar numbing pain swept up his legs. He 
fought it back. There had to be some sort of mistake.  
 
"I never died." 
 
"that you remember." 
 
"I never died!" protested Ash.  
 
Mew stared long and hard into Ash's face. Ash wondered if it could read his 
mind. He tried to think aloud what he felt- that Mew was wrong. That he was 
still alive. That he was telling the truth.  
 
"i understand your... hesitation," said Mew at last. "but i don't have time 
to explain. you will not be staying here long."  
 
Ash wanted to ask what she meant and opened his mouth to do so. But Mew 
interrupted him. Her thoughts overpowered his own so that he had no choice 
but to listen. The words were no longer whispered- they were sung 
intoxicatingly in his mind. Ash felt himself almost falling into a sort of 
trance. No matter how hard he fought, the words won over. Not that he wanted 
to fight. Why fight? The words, they were sung so beautifully... 
 
"in the shelter of your mind, we can talk as equals. but in our world, the 
one we have briefly vacated, our communication will be limited. you will not 
remember these words until you need them. i will be unable to explain why... 
but you must do as i indicate. the lives of thousands hang in the balance." 
 
Mew flew around Ash so that her long soft tail fell loosely like a scarf 
around his neck. The boy had no reaction, still entranced by Mew's 
instructions. Then Mew came up close beside Ash's ear and said, "i'm hiding. 
i need you to find me."  
 
Ash blinked. A fog lifted from his eyes, and he was suddenly aware of his 
surroundings. Mew flew away from Ash, twirling back and forth in the air 
ahead of him.  
 
"What did you do?" demanded Ash, suddenly feeling somewhat violated. He was 
compelled to check his face for marker stains.  
 
Mew didn't answer. Instead she made a happy sort of giggle and took off 
across the dunes. Ash scrambled to his feet after her. She paused only to 
make sure he was following. Ash stumbled awkwardly, his bare feet burning as 
he raced across the sands. 
 
Ash climbed a particularly mountainous dune to find that Mew was waiting for 
him on the other side.  She had stopped again hovering what appeared to be a 
dock. But there was no indications of the sand around it having ever 
contained water. It seemed out of place. As if Mew had only just spirited it 
there for kicks.  
 
Mew went to the end of the strange structure, swaying back and forth in the 
air. She giggled at him as if amused by his struggle to remain upright in the 
dunes.  
 
He took a single step out onto the wood. As soon as the flesh of his foot 
made contact with its surface, something surged up Ash's leg. It felt like a 
jolt of electricity. Ash took another step but the jolt was not in that one. 
The change had already occurred.  
 
He was standing, dumbstruck, looking out at what had been a desert only 
seconds before and what was now a enormous ocean. The waves churned with the 
passing of a storm. The dark clouds parted and slipping in between the 
patches of sky was a pink skinned Pokemon.  
 
Ash blinked and the scene shifted back to the bleak sandy wasteland it was 
before. Mew hovered at the end of the dock just watching him.  
 
"I saw you before," whispered Ash, scarcely believing it himself. "It was 
after that freak storm. That one that was supposed to keep us boxed into that 
pokemon center for weeks... when it passed us by. Did you... did you have 
something to do with that?"  
 
Again Mew said nothing. Not even giving Ash an earful of her own name. She 
just stared, blinking her large eyes nonchalantly. Ash was starting to wonder 
if he had just imaged the voice he had heard through her only minutes before.  
 
Then, quite suddenly, Mew let go of a smile, sending just ever so gently to 
him. It was an apology tied up in a sort of sad regret. At the sight, Ash 
felt his chest constrict. Was that a look of pity?  
 
As soon as it was sent, Mew was gone again- dashing across the dunes with new 
ferocity. This time, Mew showed no signs of waiting for him. Ash was certain 
that now, Mew was trying to get rid of him.  
 
Ash took off down the edge of the dock, leaping off spectacularly into what 
he thought would remain sand. But instead, Ash found himself stumbling 
clumsily through thick mud. They sucked at his feet, pulling him down to 
nearly his ankles. It was as if the black water were trying to grab at him 
again. 
 
Panicking, Ash quickly pulled his feet free and ran across lake bed. He had 
lost track of Mew. All that concerned him now was staying above the mud. And 
really that took precedence above everything else.  
 
Ash stumbled. He fell- his fingertips just grazing an object a few feet in 
front of him. He hadn't noticed it before- the rubber ball that had alerted 
him to Mew's presence earlier. Ash pulled himself to his knees, reluctantly 
grasping at the sinking ball. It took him only a minute or two to dislodge it 
from its nest in the mud.  
 
His legs came up easier. Ash stood, from the knees down looking as if he had 
been dipped in fudge. The ball dribbled as Ash gave it a quick once-over. For 
some reason the object seemed oddly familiar to him. But Ash just couldn't, 
for the life of him, place it.  
 
A sudden screeching sound turned Ash's attention away from the ball. He 
looked up, horror-stricken to see the Pokemon from his nightmares floating 
there. Purple and poised in all its majesty, with eyes that seemed to Ash 
those of all consuming madness. 
 
It arched back, supporting in its hand a terrifying orb of dark material 
energy. Psychic energy manifested from its own malicious intentions. Ash took 
two steps backwards. The monster swung the orb- and Ash screamed. He covered 
his face with his arms. And dropped the ball. 
 
It rolled across the dried lakebed quietly in Ash's wake.  
 
 
 
 
Ash jolted from unconsciousness- as if he had been struck. It took several 
painful panic-stricken moments for his heart and breath to even out. Pressed 
against the wall, Ash quickly surveyed the small room he was in. It was 
plainly furnished, with a cot bolted to the wall- a bedside table similarly 
bolted to the floor. Nothing adorned the table space and the bed wasn't even 
properly sheeted.  
 
If he were a guest here, Ash wasn't sure he was expected. Slowly, Ash pushed 
his way up to his feet. Through the wall, Ash could feel a very slight 
vibration- like that of a motor. So either he was on an airplane, a large 
automobile, boat or a train. Without a window in the small room, Ash was only 
able to speculate.  
 
With the slight bobbing of his stomach as the room dipped and rose, Ash 
guessed it was either a boat or airplane. But since he wasn't comatose with 
seasickness, Ash guessed he wasn't on a boat. And to that, Ash was grateful. 
Sure, he had handled the sail boats and the long hours on Lapras' back on his 
orange island escapades back when he was eleven. But times had changed. Ever 
since his eighth near death experience on the high seas, Ash couldn't quite 
look at the ocean without losing his lunch. Or perhaps it was just an 
unfortunate effect of puberty.  
 
Fighting back lightheadedness, Ash made his way to the door. He was shocked 
to find himself stopped short, his wrist had been bound by handcuffs to the 
metal bedpost. He pulled against it somewhat absentmindedly, as if unsure of 
its actuality.  
 
And then it all came rushing back. Ash staggered backwards into the wall and 
slid down to his knees again. He had been kidnapped. Why? That question had 
never been answered. And somehow, Ash doubted it would be. Whatever these 
people intended for him, he wouldn't find out until after they had their way.  
 
He remembered Misty's face. The look, her expression when he had been 
grabbed. Twisted up in fear. The scream of her voice, cut short when she had 
been clubbed from behind. Ash pressed his shackled hand against his heart and 
closed his eyes.  
 
	"Please be alright," he whispered.  
 
His head leaned against the wall, Ash suddenly became aware of voices. He 
turned his head back to the door that was open just a crack. Crawling quietly 
across the floor and against the wall, Ash managed to stretch himself out 
just next to the door frame. With caution, Ash carefully pried the door open 
just a inch or two wider so he could see without giving away himself away.  
 
From his position, Ash could only make out the backs of a few people. One of 
the persons, Ash recognized as being Clark- or was it the other one? The 
twins were remarkably identical even when facing forward.  
 
They were talking to a blacked out screen. The voice emanating from it was 
eerily robotic. Even so, Ash felt a slight chill run down his spine at their 
intonation. This must be their boss, Ash thought. And he didn't sound like 
someone Ash wanted to tango with anytime soon. 
 
Unfortunately, Ash's attention had come a little late into the conversation. 
He only just assumed that they were updating their leader on the obvious 
success of their mission. 
 
	"We delivered the letter," said the twin in Ash's view. 
 
	"And his expression?" responded the mechanical voice.  
 
	"Delicious." 
 
Ash repressed the urge to grind his teeth. That definitely had to be Clark, 
that cocky bastard. He wished he had given Pikachu the chance to shock him a 
few good times.  
 
	Pikachu, Ash remembered suddenly, his fingers going between his gloves. 
The pokeball was still there, snug against the recess of his palm. Its 
presence there gave Ash comfort. So he did have some sort of defense against 
these people. 
 
"And the boy..."   
 
	"He's asleep. And should remain so for a few more hours. We had to 
chloroform him."  
 
	"Hm. We did not discuss the use of drugs on our hostage, Clark." 
 
Then a voice out of Ash's view spoke rashly, "I'll take full responsibility-"  
 
	"Do not dare to interrupt me, Agent Lewis. I was not addressing you."  
 
	"Of course, ma'am." 
 
Ash inhaled sharply. The White Ice's boss was a woman? While Ash thought he 
should have been relieved, for some reason he felt all the more in danger. 
Giovanni he could deal with. But someone like Misty with control of most 
powerful force of the known world at her disposal, would make anyone shudder 
with fear.  
 
	"Giovanni went to great lengths to protect him," went on Clark, 
undaunted by the scolding he had received. 
 
	"Of course he would. The boy is his prize. And currently his only means 
of pride. We just snatched away his resolve... He is unscathed, is he not?" 
 
	"The boy or Giovanni?"  
 
"Don't be impertinent." 
  
	"The boy is fine. Not a hair touched on his head." 
 
	"Good. Keep it that way. We don't want to appear inhospitable to our 
little guest." 
 
Clark shuffled somewhat uncomfortably. "Would he accept our hospitality?"  
 
	"Oh no. Of course he won't. I count on him not."  
 
	"What then? When he refuses." 
 
Ash never heard the answer. For Clark's twin had appeared at the door. And 
the last thing Ash saw was the downside of a shoe, just before it made 
acquaintance with his face.   
 
 
 
 
 
"Sir, you have a gym challenger." 
 
Giovanni glanced up from the security monitors to the broad shouldered rocket 
member standing in the door frame. Stephan, if Giovanni remembered correctly. 
He had his arm in a sling and his eye was still puffy from when the WI 
members have given in trouble the previous day.  
 
Giovanni was glad the man decided to still stay in service. Thankful more 
than the man would ever know. His members were dwindling more and more every 
day. He still had a handful of scatterings across Kanto, but all his members 
in the other boundaries had either been press ganged into WI or eradicated. 
He had Andromeda to thank for that.  
 
She hadn't been discriminatory at least. Her first victims had been the Neo 
Rocket band that had rebelled from Giovanni's own group. Then she slowly took 
over the lesser criminal organizations of Aqua and Magma. Not to mention the 
brief tussle with Galaxy that gave White Ice the positive media attention 
they needed.  
 
And how brilliant that strategy had been. Take out all the other 
organizations and look like some sort of Batman, or modern Robin Hood. Build 
up your reputation and then none will oppose you. If they think you are the 
best thing that has happened to them- why would they?  
 
Team Rocket had been the last. And now, with all the other criminal groups 
dispersed or destroyed, Giovanni had little choice but to follow them. 
 
Become the Pokemon gym leader everyone had assumed he was.  
 
	"A challenger, hm?" Giovanni's eyes glazed over for just a moment as he 
thought back to the battle of the previous day.  
 
How exciting that had been... battling against his son. His son? No, Delia's 
son. It was like the old days. He was so much like her. The fire in his eyes 
mirrored her own, once upon a time. The eyes he had fallen in love with.  
 
He moved his attention back to the monitors he had previously been surveying. 
There was a camera facing the sculpture garden that he swiveled over to face 
the front entrance. And there the boy was. Giovanni could only see the top of 
his red and white baseball cap. The brim hid the boy's face. But his garb 
seemed to suggest a young boy- perhaps only just turned ten. He had to have 
been only a yearling, foolishly taking on this gym.  
 
	"Who is he?" 
 
	"A Mister Gary Oak, sir."  
 
Giovanni blinked and shot a stunned look to Stephan.  
 
	"Gary Oak, you say?" 
 
	"Yes, sir." 
 
	"Samuel Oak's grandson? Why is he back in Kanto? Last I heard he was 
traveling the Johto Regions. Getting badges for that league."  
 
	"Should I turn him away sir?" 
 
	"No no. It's rare we get a celebrity as our gym," He chuckled, turning 
his attention back to the screen again. "The last time he was here... how 
strange. I would have thought he'd be too afraid to come back."  
 
The man in the door frame made no means to respond. Giovanni waved him away, 
"You may show him in."  
 
 
 
 
 
Stephan was only continuing to work for Giovanni simply because he hated 
change. Having worked for Giovanni for the past eight years, to leave 
suddenly would put Stephan in a depression he wasn't sure he'd be able to 
recover form. Change was unthinkable.  
 
It was never a matter of loyalty. And what use was loyalty in a band full of 
cutthroats and thieves?  
 
Stephan didn't think much of the declining existence of the rocket 
organization. He didn't think about the break in yesterday. He didn't think. 
He was trained to take things with stride and let them go just as quickly. It 
was dangerous to be too interested in things.  
 
Much easier just to follow orders.  
 
Stephan went to fetch the trainer. He took the side door as instructed. 
Giovanni always liked to have the doors opening only to him. It left an 
impression on the trainers. Instilled fear, which was always useful to have 
if you wanted to be in control of a organization of criminals.  
 
The child was standing in front of the massive doors, looking up and down 
them expectantly. His green eyes shot directly to Stephan as he approached- 
as if expecting him.  
 
Stephan silently noted that the trainer was acting strange. Nervous even. He 
rung his hands, opening and closing his hands into fists, and tether back and 
forth from foot to foot. Stephan had dealt with nervous trainers before. 
Giovanni had that effect on people. But this trainer didn't seem nervous- no, 
he acted anxious.  
 
And he was used to sneaking up on the trainer. Not being expected.  
 
But Stephan wrote it off just as quickly. If what Giovanni said was true, 
than this Gary Oak had been at the gym before. He was sure to know the man's 
tricks.  
 
	"Mister Gary Oak?"  
 
	"Yes," answered the trainer in a small voice.  
 
	"Follow me, sir. The gym leader is expecting you."  
 
Stephan could have sworn he saw the smallest bit of a smirk on the trainer's 
face. But at a second glance it was gone. Surely, he was just imagining 
things again. 
 
 
 
 
 
Giovanni sank into his armchair just as the large oak doors drew back. His 
Persian, fully recovered from yesterday's excitement, took a quiet place at 
Giovanni's feet. Definitely not in the mood for anymore battles. 
 
The gym leader found that he was grinning quietly to himself. Although he no 
longer had his secret weapon, he was sure he could win. Gary Oak was a name 
of legends. Famous grandfather equaled famous grandson. If he could defeat 
this boy here, he'd gain a name for the gym once more.  
 
The boy walked smartly in. He didn't seem intimidated at all by the grandeur 
of the hall at all- perhaps because he had been here before. There was no 
cheerleading squad, nor any mocking remarks of victory. The boy appeared to 
have matured.  
 
But yet something was wrong. He seemed smaller... younger than before.  
 
	"Challenger Gary Oak," announced the guide.  
 
Giovanni leaned forward in his chair. Brilliant green eyes looked back. His 
face was quite pretty, with a smug grin stretching his thin lips. From under 
the Pokemon league cap, which Giovanni could clearly see it was now, he 
spotted a few stray red bangs.  
 
Suddenly Giovanni knew. This wasn't Gary Oak. He stood up, but as soon as he 
did, he felt a dull pressure against his back.  
 
	"Please don't move, Mister Giovanni."  
 
Giovanni glanced back at the young man behind him. With one glance, he 
realized he had been utterly fooled. Gary Oak was behind him, a gun pushed 
neatly against Giovanni's lower back and a smile on his face. 
 
Giovanni looked back down as the poser had relinquished his disguise. He 
threw off the coat, revealing a black tank top underneath- and obvious chest, 
Giovanni and the guard couldn't see before. 
 
Misty spun her cap around to the back, and held out a pokeball for Giovanni 
to see.  
 
	"Giovanni, leader of the Viridian Pokemon Gym. I challenge you to a 
Pokemon battle."  
 
	Gary applied a little more pressure to the gun against the gym leader's 
back.  
 
"And you're strongly obliged to accept."  
 
 
 
To Be Continued... 
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