Chapter 21 – Small World
"Could you please humor me," Ash grumbled, hand over one eye as he sat in front of Erika's desk, "and define enormous," he drew out the last word before taking a deep breath.
Erika shrugged and remained sitting perfectly still as she looked between Ash, Brock, and Misty. "Somewhere between eighty and one hundred," she said. "All of them heavily armed, with the company containing as many as ten trainers."
"Fuck me," Misty laughed. "We promised to help put you in power, not fight a war." She turned to Ash and put a hand on his shoulder. "We were outnumbered before and counting on reputation to make sure we didn't have to do any fighting."
Brock stepped forward and positioned himself slightly behind Ash. "Are we sure the mercenaries are hostile?" he asked, looking to Erika and ignoring the older woman who stood beside the princess with one hand on the hilt of a sword, "Or even who they're working for?"
"I'm not positive," the self-proclaimed empress answered. "However I'd be surprised if they weren't working for Vicar. My scout couldn't muster the courage to go and ask the army on our door whether or not they're on our side."
"Remember that fallout I mentioned," said Brock, glancing sideways at Misty. "This is the sort of thing I was worried about. This is why Gym Leaders don't announce to a city that they're taking control of the government. Especially," he focused on Erika, "when said government was elected legitimately. It tends to come across as incendiary language to call the mayor illegitimate."
"And when did I give you leave to question my means?" asked Erika, as calm as ever.
"When you stood on the steps of City Hall and nailed what was effectively a declaration of war to the door!" Brock took a step forward, fists clenched at his sides.
"Relax, both of you," Ash barked, looking back at Brock, then forward at Erika before leaning back in his chair and tapping his fingers on his knee. "What's done is done and we'll get through this one way or another," he said as Brock went silent behind him and Erika shifted in her seat. The young trainer stared out the window behind Erika's desk for a long minute before taking a deep breath. He tried to no avail to simply enjoy the evening sunlight shining into the office. "We've got the police mustering at the department store," he said, " and a mercenary army camped on the road to the east. I don't think three trainers and thirty soldiers armed with swords and bows are going to cut it, princess."
"If we had more trainers," said Misty, "then we might be able to pull something off, so why is no one suggesting the obvious? We break into the police department and steal Erika's Pokemon back."
"Because that would be dangerous," said Brock, waving one hand in the air, his tone biting. "And we don't want to put the princess in any real physical danger."
Ash again turned in his chair. "Brock," he said, his already humorless voice growing icy. "That's enough."
"Of something at least," the older Gym Leader crossed his arms.
"Anyway," Misty interjected, stepping between Brock and Ash. "What I want to know is why we haven't taken the obvious course and gone after the gym's Pokemon."
Erika nodded. "My thoughts exactly," she said, "which is why I was hoping I could convince the three of you to do just that." She waited for any of the other trainers to respond, and went on when they remained silent. "I told you that when the police confiscated my gym's Pokemon, they moved them to the police department for safe keeping. Now think about it. The police station was hit hard during the riots because most of their forces were here, defending me. That means that there are two places that Vicar might be keeping my Pokemon."
"The police station, under a token guard," Ash finished her thought, "or at the shopping complex with the rest of his troops."
"The latter would imply that they plan to employ my own Pokemon against me and my men," said the princess, "a foolhardy notion at best... for them at least. The former scenario entails the police either splitting their forces or leaving my Pokemon unguarded. In either case it's good for us and bad for them."
"Or they've moved them out of the city," Brock offered.
"Another possibility," said Erika. "But if that were the case then it would likewise require them to divide their forces or risk leaving a great liability unguarded and in transit so I doubt they'd go to the trouble. Better to leave them in a relatively secure location under what guards they can spare than to risk moving them."
Ash leaned forward and put his hands on the desk. "All this to say that we need to do some recon work."
Erika smiled at him. "If you'd please, I'd appreciate it very much," she said.
"Alright, if that's what it takes," said Ash. He stood up and faced Brock and Misty. "You two will check out this mercenary camp and I'll go investigate the police station. If I can't find your Pokemon there," he looked to Erika, "I'll see about slipping into the department store. In the meantime, get as close to the camp as you feel you safely can... no unnecessary risks."
"Hold up," said Misty. "Why are you going solo?"
"Because if things go wrong at the camp then you'll be outnumbered," Ash answered. "I want both of you there to back each other up. Besides, I think we all know I'm the stealthiest of us." He grinned, or tried to at least. The laughter echoing in his head, Haunter's unsettling and inaudible giggle, made the expression hard to fake.
Brock shook his head. "Arcanine, Pikachu, and Charizard," muttered the older Gym Leader. "Real stealthy."
"Onyx," Ash countered.
"Vaporeon," Misty interjected.
"Backup," Ash pointed at Brock.
"Backup," Brock pointed to Ash.
"We're not arguing," Ash pointed at both of them, voice gruff. "Brock, investigate the mercenaries. Misty, you're going with Brock and I don't want to hear another word from either of you. We're heading out tonight. Understood?"
Brock and Misty, both standing with eyes a little wider than usual, only nodded.
"Alright," said Ash, sitting back down opposite Erika. "Brock, pack up whatever equipment you think you'll need to spy out that camp. Misty, see what you can do to help him."
Brock nodded and turned to the door. "I can do that," he said.
Patting Ash on the shoulder and turning towards the door, Misty smiled at the younger trainer. Ash grinned back up at her and put his hand on hers before she left. As soon as the door closed behind them, Ash took a deep breath and turned back to Erika. He reached down to the floor beside the chair and touched Pikachu's head with his fingertips, prompting a surprised and happy chitter from the quiet rodent.
One corner of her mouth twisting upwards, the girl in the kimono leaned forward and put her hands on the desk. "So you can be forceful when you need to be," she said. "I didn't think you had it in you."
"I don't like having to be this way," said the trainer. "But I don't have too many options. Now," he shifted and leaned back in the chair, hoisting one ankle up to rest on his knee. "I've been here for two days and you're already making your move against Vicar... I didn't want to say anything in front of anyone else, but," his eyes narrowed, "what were you thinking?"
Erika's smile dropped away though her countenance remained decidedly nonthreatening. "Explain to me why I should explain myself to you," she said, tone civil if cool.
"Because I'm doing your all the heavy lifting here," Ash answered.
"All according to our arrangement," Erika responded. "In exchange for your services, I offered both my recommendation to the Elite Four and permission to search the remains of the Game Corner. I can't recall allowing you to question what moves I choose to make."
Ash felt a hot stinging well up in his stomach. "We're decisively outnumbered," said the trainer, fighting to keep his tone as respectful as he could. "You're asking me to risk my friends for you. The least you could do is give me a little information. I think you're forgetting, princess, that if I decide to walk away, you will be completely and utterly fucked."
Finding himself in a staring contest with Erika as the girl went quiet, Ash uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. The action immediately prompted the statuesque woman beside the princess to shift closer to the girl, hand still on her sword. Ash twitched and quickly looked at the old woman, having almost forgotten about the princess's bodyguard .Pikachu's getting up to his feet kept Ash calm. The little Pokemon hopped up into his trainer's lap and faced the duo across the desk as Ash straightened up.
"You're under a lot of stress," said Erika at last. "I can understand that and I'll try to account for it."
"Thank you so much," Ash muttered. "Now would you care to explain what you were thinking when you walked up to City Hall and nailed that declaration to the door? Brock was right, Erika. I don't know how things work in Celadon, but anywhere else, calling the perfectly legitimate mayor a usurper and announcing that it's your express intent to take his place might be a taken as a little... extreme."
"Isn't that exactly what I intend to do?" asked the princess.
"Well," said Ash, "yes. It is, but you were anything but subtle or cautious about it. Not to mention that you hardly gave me time to prepare for whatever you plan on doing."
Erika stood up, drawing a wary glance from her elderly bodyguard, and turned to face the window. "Celadon is almost out of time," she said. "I don't know for sure if you've noticed, but," she glanced back at Ash, "my city is dying."
Ash felt he missed the impact Erika meant her words to carry. "A couple of riots and some civil unrest doesn't mean a city is a goner," said the young trainer. "Saffron fell into a literal civil war, and they've bounced back. Vermilion was on the verge of tearing itself apart in desperation when I arrived, but they're back on their feet now."
"No." As Erika turned around and stood framed by the window, the princess shook her head. "You don't understand the situation," she went on.
"Then tell me so I'll know how to help," said Ash, the burning in his stomach abating.
"The rioting is just the city letting off a little steam," said Erika. "For as much damage as everyone caused, that's noting compared to what's coming next..." She slipped her hands inside her kimono's flowing sleeves. "The city is too big," Erika said, more quietly. "Even before all this business to the west with the food shortage, my city was living on a hand-to-mouth economy."
Brow furrowed, Ash tried to read the princess's posture. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked. "How big is too big?"
Erika grinned a little without looking at him. "Do you know how much food two million people eat in a day?" she asked rhetorically. "Or how much water they drink? For that matter can you imagine how much water it takes just to keep every bathroom in Celadon running properly? Now try to think about all the resources we have devote to pumping all that water in from up north, keeping the pipelines protected, guarding the reservoirs, protecting the powerplants that feed the pumping stations that pump all the water, maintaining the plant, protecting the supply lines that provide the plant with coal.
"Now imagine the resources I need to devote to buying the coal that we burn. Imagine what Celadon has to spend on the lumber we buy from Cerulean, the stone we buy from Pewter, the salt and lime we buy from Viridian, the copper and sulfur we buy from Vermilion, the textiles and iron we buy from Saffron. And here's the best part Ash... all of these wonderful materials that Celadon, the most beautiful city in Kanto, needs to run... we buy them all on nothing but credit... credit that's already run out."
Ash shook his head a little. "You'll have to help me out here," he said, trying to suppress the acrid taste of his words. "I'm just a poor kid from the frontier."
"That money in your wallet," said Erika, pointing to his pocket. "Every single banknote and each and every coin came from Celadon. That's it," she clapped her hands together. "That's how we do it."
"Do what?" Ash asked.
"Buy everything that keeps Celadon running," Erika said. "We buy things with the money we print. My father and Vicar came up with the plan decades ago to stabilize Kanto's wider economy by providing everyone with a standardized form of currency, so they built a mint here in Celadon and began marketing the simple currency to other cities as a way to make business easier for everyone. After that Celadon, which was already a big town thanks to its location and status as a giant of trade, exploded with what was effectively an unlimited supply of cheap money.
"Celadon owns the mint, which acts as a bank and makes easy loans to the city's citizens, who then buy whatever they want from whoever they want outside of Celadon. Using the goods they buy and yet more loans from the mint, the citizens set up businesses based on consumption, because with all the money they could want, everyone in Celadon became a big consumer. Before you know it, all of Celadon's producing businesses and industries have been replaced by consumer businesses."
"Alright, I'm with you so far," said Ash. "But I'm still missing your point."
"Well what happens when the other cities stop selling the things Celdaon can no longer produce for itself?" asked Erika. "What happens when some crisis hits and all of a sudden resources start becoming scarcer?"
"Then you'll have to pay more for what you want," said Ash. He stopped and muttered a quick "Oh."
"Pay for it with what?" asked Erika. "All Celadon can offer in exchange for other resources is currency... you can't eat currency. You can't build houses out of it. You can't build pipelines or powerplants or Pokemon Centers out of currency. Paper, after all, is just paper. And when no one is willing to trade your currency for resources, all that paper tends to pile up and grows worth less and less, to everyone."
"So when the currency becomes worthless," said Ash, connecting the dots, "it starts taking more and more to buy the things that are growing scarcer and scarcer as Celadon loses its power to import."
"Now you get it," said Erika. "That might be a gross oversimplification, but you've got the crux of it... Even ignoring all that, the whole problem goes back to production versus consumption. People who are used to consuming can no longer do so because they're no longer producing."
"Hence the riots," said Ash.
Erica stammered for only an instant before recomposing herself. "In a sense, yes."
"There's more to it than that," Ash stated flatly. "Go on."
"The riots were the result of someone leaking some rather sensitive information," said the princess. "For years I've been trying to undo what Vicar and my father did. I've been trying to move Celadon back to a producing economy, but to put it simply, doing so would involve a lot of people having to make uncomfortable adjustments to their lifestyles. In the long run it would be better for the city, but in the short term there would be a lot of cutbacks and stress.
"A big part of my plan was to break up the mint and sell it to Saffron and Cerulean, in exchange securing much needed resources and wiping most of Celadon's debt clean, but that information got out to the general public and... well, people don't very much like it when you take away their credit card, even when it is killing them. The plan fell through anyway, neither Saffron nor Fuchsia were interested, but still, the Rattata was out of the bag."
"And people got angry," Ash probed.
"Yes, fortunately whoever leaked the information got part of the story wrong and painted the plan as a joint venture by Vicar and myself. So when people went ape, it was directed at both of us." A smile returning to her face, Erica looked back out the window and surveyed the garden beyond. "Fortunately, Vicar's reputation caught the worst of the backlash and now I have the advantage of Ash Ketchum and Brock Satoshi backing me. My public relations, given the circumstances at least, are better than anything I could have asked for. Even Vicar can't fight all of Celadon."
"He can try," said Ash, standing up. "And he can cause a lot of damage in the process. Even assuming you do win, Celadon isn't going to be happy with your plan. They might fight you too."
Erika shrugged. "I'm well aware of that, which is why my men and I need our Pokemon back... both to achieve order, and to maintain it." She reached up and touched her chin, sighing as if fatigued and continued studying the garden. "It may sound harsh, but principle is less important that victory at the moment. At any rate the die's been cast, and I can't take it back now."
SC
Following the little tugs he felt in his mind, Ash navigated the alleys despite the complete darkness of the moonless night. No streetlights shone to push back the black, and the clouds overhead obscured any starlight that might have made the night less oppressive, but to Ash, the lack of light proved a non-issue due to Haunter's guidance, even if walking blind remained disconcerting. Focusing on slow movement and setting his feet down as softly as he could, Ash mad his way from alley to alley, occasionally finding larger streets that he had to cross. Every now and again he'd catch a glimpse of a lit window or a trashcan fireplace around which were gathered some of the city's homeless. These he avoided completely.
Coming to what he perceived to be a large courtyard, Ash stopped as Haunter went still. The specter informed the trainer that they'd arrived and Ash reached into his bag. Drawing out the thermal imager which had, perhaps miraculously, survived the journey from Vermilion Ash scanned the courtyard. The uniform blanket of grey displayed through the imager's eyepiece settled Ash's nerves some. He could only vaguely make out the shape of the police department, but if the asymmetrical silhouette was any indicator, the building had been hit hard enough by the riots to collapse a section of the east wing.
Putting away the imager, Ash felt Pikachu bump his leg, and reached down to scratch the Pokemon behind the ears. He silently instructed Haunter to lead the way, and followed behind as quietly as he could. Reaching the main entrance, Ash felt along the door for the handle and quickly passed through the portal, holding it open only long enough for Pikachu to slip in. Leaning down and reaching into his pack, Ash drew out a small torch and held it out to his Pokemon.
"You mind?" he asked.
A spark of light arced between the head of the torch and Pikachu's cheeks, illuminating the entryway for a split second and filling the air with a quiet crack just before the torch flamed to life. Ash thanked Pikachu and patted him, to which the Pokemon responded by straightening up and bobbing its head proudly.
Casting around, Ash scanned the large chamber in which he stood. Though the small torch threw off enough light to clearly illuminate the ground his feet, Ash found it hard to make out any details farther than a few meters away. He could tell though, that the chamber was primarily marble, with a raised entry platform flanked by two short stairways leading down to the main level of the room. Standing tall in the center of the room, an enormous fountain sat silent, the marble woman in the center of the stagnant pool holding an empty vase above her head.
Slipping to the receptionist's desk behind the fountain and crossing the field of paper debris which carpeted the floor, Ash quickly ransacked the small cubicle. Pulling out ledgers and piles of notes he sifted through stack after stack of papers, ignoring anything dated to more than a month ago and throwing such things aside. After several minutes of searching, and requiring that Pikachu hop up onto the desk and hold the torch for him, Ash came across one set of papers that he took the time to examine carefully.
"Perfect," he grinned, looking at the police report before setting it back on the desk. "Looks like I might just get lucky after all."
Trouble, Haunter's gurgling voice sounded in Ash's head.
"Or not," immediately Ash grabbed the torch from a very surprised Pikachu and whipped the wooden implement downward, extinguishing the light. The trainer ducked into the confines of the sectioned off bit of floorspace walled by the wraparound desk and grabbed Pikachu. Holding the Pokemon close as Haunter's presence faded slightly from distance, Ash waited for the ghost to report back. No answer came however before a glimpse of light rolled lazily over the desk as some dim source of illumination entered the room. Accompanied by at least one set of footsteps, the light stopped and Ash felt Haunter touch his mind. The specter whispered that two men dressed in police uniforms had arrived and that both carried crossbows slung over their backs. Ash ordered Haunter to follow behind them. At the same time the two men began to speak.
"I hate night duty," one muttered, still hidden from Ash by the desk. "This place gives me the creeps. It's always felt more like a haunted castle than a police department."
"Would you shut up?" answered a gruffer voice.
"I'm just saying," said the first voice as the footsteps resumed and grew closer to Ash. "When I worked in Saffron-"
"I know you're just saying. You're always just saying," said the second voice. "And one of these days its your 'just saying' that's going to get you in big trouble. Now can it and go check behind the desk so we can get back to the barracks and write that fucking report for Vicar."
Ash took in a quiet breath as the sound of the footsteps grew farther apart and one continued towards his position. As Haunter informed him that the two men were separating, one heading for the main entrance, the other walking towards the desk, Ash ordered the ghost to follow and take care of the one moving for the door. Simultaneously he reached down and touched Pikachu on the nose, shaking his head at the Pokemon as the light washing over the edge of the big desk grew slowly brighter. He pointed to the opposite end of the squat cubicle and winked. Pikachu nodded.
"Trouble my ass," said a short man in padded armor, coming into the receptionist's workspace as the door closed behind his partner. Waving his torch around he glanced around the cubicle and jumped with a cry of surprise. "Where the-" he stammered, looking down at the Pikachu sitting on the opposite end of the little space and looking up at him. "Where did you come from little guy," he walked passed the cheap desk set by the entrance, oblivious as the dark figure silently rolled out from underneath the elongated table.
The man reached down and scratched Pikachu's cheek as the Pokemon chittered happily. "Why don't you come with-" his sentence ended in a muffled gasp as Ash's hand covered his mouth and jerked his head back.
Turning with the guard to face away from Pikachu and still covering the man's mouth, even as the hapless police officer reached up and dropped his lantern to to pull on Ash's arm, the trainer plunged his long knife into the man's chest. The body convulsed for a split second as the blade skewered its heart cleanly through. Ash dropped the deadweight in a heap as Pikachu hopped up on the desk to examine his trainers work. Watching as the officer gurgled for a moment before going both still and silent, Pikachu turned to Ash and hopped up on his head as the Gym Leader picked up the guard's electric lantern.
"Sorry," Ash muttered, glancing down at the body. "Really, it's nothing personal," he added, catching himself wishing that the man had been on Erika's side.
After a second spent hiding the corpse, face up to prevent a bloody puddle, Ash felt Haunter float up beside him, giggling maniacally. The trainer shook his head before walking as quietly as he could to the hall from which the two guards had emerged. Following the passage to a bend, Ash sent Haunter ahead and only proceeded when the ghost inaudibly called the all clear, much to the confusion of Pikachu.
Walking slowly to muffle his footsteps as he descended a flight of stairs, Ash stopped at the closed door at the bottom of the well. Pressing his ear to the portal as Haunter floated through the wall, Ash listened. Even through the metal door he could make out the voices on the other side. Waiting until Haunter returned, Ash grabbed two pokeballs from his belt.
Nine men, Haunter whispered to the trainer, poking his invisible head through the door and floating back through. One woman, bound, gagged.
Raising an eyebrow, Ash put the two pokeballs back on his belt. Pressing his lips into a line and unthinkingly reaching up to pet Pikachu he leaned against the wall. "A hostage changes things," he muttered, "quite a bit..."
Ash looked up as Pikachu patted him on the forehead. Following the Pokemon's gesture as the little rodent pointed, Ash spotted the air duct set high on the wall, and sighed.
"I see that," he whispered. "But there's no way I'd fit through. Besides, there's a door..."
Pikachu shook his head, leaned down, and batted Ash on the nose, pointing back up at the vent and back down at the trainer's magnetic belt. The thought flashed into Ash's mind that, unlike Arcanine and Charizard, he did in fact have a Pokemon capable of more subtlety. Grinning, he whispered a quick 'thank you' to Pikachu and retreated up the steps and out of the stairwell, pokeball in hand and Pikachu on his head. Closing the door to the stairwell behind him, Ash unclipped the pokeball from his belt and snapped it open. The quick rush of wind and flash of light lit up the dark hall and rustled the papers scattered on the floor as the glowing shape coalesced in midair. Floating forward, Butterfree lighted on Ash's outstretched arm and hummed.
"I know you don't like the dark," said Ash, opening the door and walking down the stairs with the big insect perched on his hand, "but I'm going to need your help for a minute."
Coming back to the bottom of the flight of stairs, Ash set Butterfree on the guardrail, motioning for the Pokemon to be silent, and set Pikachu on the bottom stair. Reaching up to the vent he tried the screws holding it in place. Much to his relief they had already been worked loose, a situation for which Haunter giddily took credit, and Ash had no trouble quietly removing the steel frame from its place high up on the wall.
"Alright," whispered the trainer, picking up Butterfree and holding the insect up to the vent. "Knock em out cold," he instructed. "Then flood the room with Stun Spores just to be sure."
Tucking its wings and ducking its head, Butterfree squeezed into the vent and positioned itself as close as possible to the adjacent metal panel. Unfurling as much as it could in such a confined space, Butterfree began humming very quietly and vibrating the membranes on its wings. Standing on the stairs, Ash watched as a hazy blue, almost imperceptible, mist began wafting down from Butterfree. The air filled with a smell not unlike the seashores of Vermilion and Ash retreated a little farther up the stairs when his head began to lighten with the aroma.
Waiting for several minutes, Ash only returned down the stairs once the last vestiges of the blue haze had settled on the ground like a fine powder. He took Butterfree down from the vent and patted the Pokemon's head. Whispering that the insect had done a good job, Ash directed Haunter to go through the door and investigate. Almost immediately the ghost returned.
Men asleep, it whispered in his ear. Helpless for the-
No, Ash interrupted. We're going to get the pokeballs and the hostage and get out of here.
Ash didn't miss the disappointed sigh from the specter, and put his hand on the knob. With Pikachu standing beside him and Butterfree on his shoulder, Ash cautiously opened the door and stepped into the chamber beyond. He grinned and almost laughed at the sight of nine police officers, each armed to the teeth with knives, crossbows, and sledgehammers, slumped in their chairs or sprawled out on the floor, each snoring heavily. As he stepped into the chamber, which Ash guessed to be the entrance to a cell block, he picked his way around the sleeping and paralyzed guards and walked to the desk at which one of the men slept.
"First thing's first," said the trainer.
Comfortable in his knowledge that no human constitution could recover from Butterfree's chemical attacks in less than an hour, Ash scooted the man's chair away from the desk and left the comatose figure to slump from his seat and drop to the floor in a heap while Ash took the drawers out of the desk one at a time. Turning the drawers upside down to empty the contents, Ash sifted through the papers, sets of keys, and miscellaneous odds and ends that dropped to the desk. Coming to a door locked with a simple latch, Ash glanced at the guard behind him, still snoring on the ground in front of his vacant chair. Not seeing a set of keys on the man and deciding not to take the time to search, Ash jerked the drawer and broke it loose from the desk with a splintering crack.
"Well would you look at that," he grinned, staring down at the drawer full of pokeballs. "Good work guys. It's such a nice twist when a plan goes off without any real trouble," Ash looked down at Pikachu and over at Butterfree as he shifted his pack around, unzipped the main compartment, and dumped the contents of the drawer into his bag along with the set of keys he'd found elsewhere in the desk.
The trainer felt his ghostly companion tug at his mind and heard it whisper a reminder about the hostage. Zipping up his pack, Ash slung the bag over his shoulder, and crossed the drab concrete room to the hall leading to a block of prison cells . The heavy steel doors slid on well oiled rollers and he stepped through into the police station's prison. From the first cell on his right, the trainer heard a muffled whimper and glanced over. Twitching in surprise, Ash immediately spotted the prisoner.
Sitting in the corner of the cell, stripped to her underwear with her hands cuffed behind her back, the emaciated woman glared up at him. Her hazy amber eyes narrowed in defiance when she saw him, further emphasizing the prominent bruises discoloring her otherwise sickly pale complexion. She bit harder on the cloth gag tied tightly across her mouth as she and Ash stared at each other for a brief instant, the trainer outside the cell trying to place the prisoner.
"I think I know you," he said, grabbing the cell door's handle and giving it a quick tug. The metal catch holding it shut clanked, eliciting a quick shiver from the woman in the cell. Ash reached for the keys in his pack as the prisoner scooted her back into the corner of the cell and continued staring at him.
"Anyway," Ash said, glancing at the woman between trying various keys in the lock. "I'm Ash Ketchum and I'm going to get you out of here." He noted the quick expression of incredulity flit across the prisoner's face. "I'm working with Erika, trying to boot Vicar and Team Rocket out of Celadon for good," he explained as he kept trying keys but finding none the worked. "To hell with it," Ash grumbled, reaching to his belt and pulling a pokeball free.
Snapping the orb open and stepping back as the hulking Pokemon materialized from the white light, Ash waited until Charizard had fully formed before clearing his throat to get the dragon's attention. Growling and struggling to turn around in the narrow hall, Charizard cast about between Ash and the prisoner who, the trainer noted had begun to shiver.
"The door," Ash nodded to the obstacle.
Charizard snorted, filling the air with a sulfurous stink, but begrudgingly stood up on its hind legs and slipped its clawed fingers through the bars. With a protracted grunt the Pokemon pulled and the steel bars began to deform. With a final pop the hinges gave out and Charizard pulled the heavy cell door free from the wall and set it on the ground behind Ash. The trainer thanked the Pokemon and stepped inside the cell.
Still trembling, though obviously trying not to show it as she stared up at him, the prisoner remained silent as Ash bent down and undid the knot in her gag. "I don't know exactly why you're here," said Ash as he pulled the braided cloth away, "but I'll take you someplace safe."
The woman took a deep breath, the action making her ribs even more noticeable and worked her jaw around a little. "Thanks, I think," said the woman, her voice husky and dry. "I haven't been out of this cell in..." she paused, "well... months at least."
Ash raised an eyebrow. "Who did you piss off?" he asked, looping his arm around her back and helping the woman up to her feet.
"Team Rocket," she answered, not resisting as Ash lead her to the hole in the wall. "That's why, when you said you were trying to kick them out of Celadon, I started listening. Is that where I'm at?" she asked. "Celadon?"
Ash nodded, and turned her around so her back was to Charizard. "Yeah," he said. "Hold your arms back and I'll take care of these handcuffs."
The woman pushed her arms back and held her hands as far apart as the cuffs allowed. Turning his long muzzle at Ash's direction, Charizard leaned forward and snapped his jaws on the handcuff's chain, catching the metal links between between his canines. The woman's arms dropped to her sides and she groaned in relief. Taking a moment to rub the bruises around her wrists, she looked over at Ash.
"Ketchum?" she asked as Ash returned Charizard to his pokeball. "You're with Erika? So she's still in power?"
Ash nodded. "She's sure trying to be," he answered. "And I'm actually Vermilion's Gym Leader but right now I'll side with anyone who wants to fight Team Rocket."
"Then we have something in common," said the woman, picking up what ad been her gag, pulling her long ale-colored hair back, and using the braided cloth to tie it in a rough ponytail. "Officer Jennifer Mara, Viridian Police Department, Special Crimes Unit," she said, extending her hand. "Thanks again for getting me out of here."
Ash took her hand and gave it a firm shake, her name sticking in his head. "That's it," he said, face lightening. "I met you in Viridian when I was passing through. You were the first person to tell me about the food crisis and you suspected Team Rocket of being involved."
Jennifer paused for a second. "That rings a bell," she said, just before her a quick grin flitted across her face. "You were traveling to Pewter with your girlfriend," she went on. "Small world. More on topic though, I was right back then about Team Rocket being involved."
"As much as I want to hear it," said Ash, his heart leaping into his throat, "let's get back to the gym and we can talk there. We can also get you something to eat."
Jennifer's face tightened noticeably and she quickly agreed, following Ash as he lead her from the cell block. The woman stopped in the chamber with all of the sleeping and paralyzed figures and, while Ash waited, went to a small closet opposite the hall of cells. Opening the door and sifting through the contents of the closet, Jennifer settled on a heavy trench coat and some boots and quickly got dressed.
"Did you get the pokeballs from the drawer?" asked the woman, glancing between Ash and ransacked desk, sighing in relief when she saw the young trainer nod and point to his pack. "Good, then you've got my Ninetales..."
Escorted by Charizard, Pikachu, and Butterfree, Ash and Jennifer made their way out to the massive entry chamber of the police station. Neither trainer stopped to admire the room, filled as it was with numerous works of art and constructed completely out of marble and granite. The humans and the Pokemon went straight for the door and exited out to the courtyard. Jennifer and Ash alike stumbled in shock as the light of their electric lanterns fell across the human corpse sprawled across the front steps. The police officer's jaw had been wrenched open to an unnatural gape and both of the man's eyes were missing, leaving only bloody sockets in his skull.
"What the hell happened?" Jennifer whispered, carefully stepping around the dark puddle which began at the man's head and ran down the steps.
"It wasn't here when I arrived," Ash answered, stepping around the corpse and trying to tune out Haunter's silent laughter.
SC
Dropping to his knees, holding his throat, and gurgling the figure clad in the padded armor fell forward and collapsed with a choking heave. As the catlike figure, glittering blue in the torchlight, flicked its finned tail to clean off the line of blood, Vaporeon turned to the bushes. Brock and Misty emerged from the underbrush and pulled the fresh body into the bushes before reemerging from the treeline on the edge of the dark field. Perhaps a hundred yards in front of them sat the glimmering collection campfires and lighted tents which constituted the mercenary camp.
"You sure about that?" asked Misty, stomping out the torch as Brock peered through his binoculars towards the camp.
"Positive," Brock responded, dropping to one knee to better hide in the tall grass. He lowered the binoculars and slipped them back into his pack. "That was an Olivine gym member," he looked down at the little badge of steel in his palm.
"What was he doing in Kanto," asked Misty, "as far in as Celadon no less, and working with a band of mercs?"
"Couldn't tell you," said Brock, pocketing the badge and sneaking closer to the camp, followed by Misty. "He might have been a member turned mercenary who kept his badge to try and hold onto some authority. Still, if mercenaries are coming all the way from Johto, then something bigger than Celadon is going on here and we need to find out what. If gym members are crossing into Kanto then somebody needs to tell the Elite Four immediately."
Misty went silent and followed behind Brock. Flanked by Vaporeon, the ghostly Pokemon remaining a few meters away to screen for ambushes, the party snuck to the edge of the camp, coming so close as the ring of flattened grass surrounding the collection of tents and lean-to's. The pair quickly scanned the outer rim of the camp, counting the lazy sentries who'd been stuck with a watch so early in the morning, and waiting to see when the guard would change.
Brock taped Misty on the shoulder and pointed to a larger tent, decorated with silver fliers and a crimson flag. The structure sat on the outer edge of an inner ring of such pavilions, and presented the smallest face to the trainers. The girl nodded and together she and Brock darted into camp, dodging campfires and stealing around tents towards the pavilion near the center of the grounds. As they reached the side of the pavilion Vaporeon swiped its tail across the heavy fabric, opening up a gap in the canvas.
In the center the pavilion, a man sitting at a table glanced over his shoulder at the sound of the rippling canvas, just in time to spot the two figures ducking inside the tent. Swiveling around in his chair, without standing up, the man in the body armor put up his hands as Brock and Misty silently rushed up to him.
"I surrender," said the man, sitting calmly in the chair with his hands behind his head. Looking between the two intruders, each dressed in black and grey fatigues and wearing inky balaclavas, the hired soldier remained perfectly still as the shorter figure rushed to the opposite end of the pavilion and closed the entrance flap.
"That was easy," whispered Brock, standing in front of their prisoner as Misty and Vaporeon returned. He cast about the single room pavilion, noting the lone bed flanked by chests and footlockers at one end, and the pile of travel goods at the other.
"I'm an officer," said the man in the chair, "not a moron. When two people wearing black, obviously skilled enough to get passed the sentries without raising the alarm, sneak into my tent and catch me unprepared, I'm not about to jeopardize my life in a vain attempt to fight them off or alert my employers."
"Smart man," Misty looked at Brock.
"So," said the mercenary, stone-faced. "What can a humble captain offer in exchange for his life and the lives of his men?"
"I like this guy," said Misty. "He gets it."
Beneath his balaclava, Brock grinned. "Information," he said. "What's going on here?"
"Could you be a little more precise," asked the captain, running a hand over the stubble on his chin and rubbing his neck.
Brock eyed the prisoner for a moment, unsure of what to make of a man so cool under such circumstances. The Gym Leader guessed that the captain couldn't be older than thirty, though his unremarkable, if deep set, features made his age difficult to guess. The man's face was a map of faded scars and pockmarks from a life likely spent entrenched in conflict, though he still wore his matted black hair long, hanging on either side of his face to frame his features. As his icy eyes flitted from one intruder to the next, the captain remained silent, waiting for his interrogation to begin.
"I think I know you," Brock muttered. "Have you ever been through Pewter?"
The captain shook his head. "I've been a mercenary my whole life, but I've never been farther west than Cerulean. I spend most of my time around Saffron to tell the truth."
It clicked in Brock's mind, manifesting as a quick twitch in his eyes. "You were one of the mercenaries guarding the eastern entrance to Saffron during the civil war a year ago."
The mercenary nodded, an eyebrow rising up his forehead. "Correct," he answered, "that was back when Fey was in charge."
"Care to expound on what happened after Fey died?" asked Brock. "I thought all of her mercs were wiped out."
The man shook his head. "Not quite," he answered. "The contingent she took to Saffron was a rearguard. The rest of her troop was stationed at the northern checkpoints under her other lieutenants. Actually the forces she lost in the east were only a small part of her greater band. After Fey died though, it took us a few months to reorganize. After all the lieutenants agreed not to split up the army, we agreed on a new leader: me."
Scanning his memory as the man spoke, Brock waited until the captain finished. "Mike, right?"
"Do I know you?" asked the captain. "Have we met?"
Brock reached up and pulled off his balaclava. "Brock Satoshi, Pewter Gym Leader.
"Well I know the name..." Mike mumbled. "But I... you came through the checkpoint at Saffron," he interrupted himself. "I remember now. We had to turn you back and it was barely more than a day after you left that the outpost was attacked."
"I know," said Brock. "I came back through and found everyone after the fact."
"Then you're probably lucky you showed up late," said Mike. "Anything that could bring down Fey could bring down anybody. What are you doing here?"
"Investigating this little," Brock waved his hand around, "gathering. I need to determine who you're working for."
"Promise as a Gym Leader that you'll let me go and not kill any of my men," said Mike, "and I'll tell you whatever you'd like to know."
Brock glanced at Misty, who had stepped back and knelt down to pet Vaporeon. The girl shrugged without a word and went back to listening for any sound of trouble. He turned back to the captain and motioned for him to get up.
"Deal," the Gym Leader extended his hand and shook the mercenary's as Mike got to his feet. "Tell me everything you know. Who orchestrated all of this, what you're planning, whose side you're on, everything."
"In order," said the captain, "A nameless Team Rocket administrator, someone from Viridian as near as I can tell, put all of this together. Where he gets his information is above my pay-grade but... it is Team Rocket. Our objective is to move into Celadon in four days and supplement the police force for an all out assault on Erika's Gym. My forces have express orders to secure the police station and make sure the rebels can't take any of the administrative buildings around City Hall. We're working for Mayor Vicar, of course."
Brock shook his head. "You said Team Rocket put all this together?"
Mike nodded. "An administrator approached me a few weeks ago, wanted my troops to supplement an army of mercs they're bringing in from all over the continent. Why they're devoting this many resources to keeping one man in power seems obvious to me, but still, Rocket's kickbacks couldn't be enough to cover the costs of bringing people in from as far away as Johto... unless they plan on keeping Vicar in their pocket for a long time.
"Anyway, I didn't want to take the job, but the other lieutenants don't care as much about Rocket's seedy reputation as I do, so here we are."
"How much are they paying you?" asked Brock, leaning against the table and crossing his arms.
Mike paused, letting his glance shift to Misty, then to the lantern on the map covered table. "Quite a bit," he said.
"What if I offered you ten percent more, minimum, than whatever they're offering to join up with Erika and me." Brock offered.
The corner's of the captain's mouth twisted downward as he raised his eyebrows and thought for a moment. "I'd be... interested to say the least," said the merc. "There would be two problems with that however. First I'd have to actually move my troops out without drawing a great deal of attention, which is a big problem. Second I'd have to live with breaking a contract and," he drew out the word, "turning on my former employer. That's a real black mark against a mercenary company."
"And I have answers to both," said the Gym Leader. "To the first, no one is saying that you have to break away from the main body of the army. I'm just asking that you not come to their defense should the fighting get heavy or, if you're feeling bold, turn on the other mercs once they're in position."
"Hm, an interesting solution," said the captain. "I can't say I'm keen to deny getting paid to do nothing. And your second answer?"
"Would it surprise you greatly if I mentioned that Team Rocket was behind Fey's death a year ago?" Brock's tone grew deadly serious.
Remaining absolutely silent, Mike pressed his lips together and studied the Gym Leader for a long moment. "I'd ask how you came across such sensitive information," said the mercenary, almost under his breath, "especially at such a convenient time."
"When I went back to the outpost," said Brock, "I'd planned on hiring Fey to bring her men to Pewter. After I found them all dead, Fey and her guards, two Rocket Grunts came to clean up the scene. I killed one and interrogated the other who told me that two agents, Jesse and James, had killed the mercs on behalf of Team Rocket for sheltering a friend of mine. Emily, the ex-grunt, joined my Gym in Pewter afterwords. She's been nothing if not informative."
Mike went quiet for another long minute. "You're reputation's a lot shinier than Team Rocket's," said the mercenary. "I'll talk to the other lieutenants, see what they say."
"How will I know your answer?" asked Brock.
"If it's a no, then I won't send any," said the mercenary. "If it's a yes, then I'll send one messenger to the gym. He'll inform you of my intent."
Brock nodded. "Fair enough." He glanced down at the maps on the table. "I should probably let you get back to whatever you were doing."
"Have a good night then," said Mike.
"I hope we can talk again soon," said the Gym Leader, putting on his balaclava and motioning for Misty.
As the captain sat back at his table, ignoring the trainers, the two black figures slipped back out the tent and bolted out of the camp. Slipping between tents and around fires, clinging to the shadows, the pair didn't say a word until they were well within the shelter of the tall grass surrounding the camp. Misty pulled off her disguise and returned Vaporeon to its pokeball.
"You sure we can trust him?" asked the redhead.
Brock paused, still looking towards the camp. "We'd be stupid to count on him for help," he answered. "So we're going to make our plans under the assumption that our old friend will remain loyal to Team Rocket and Vicar."
"Makes sense," said Misty, hunkering down in the dark. "At least now we have a rough idea of what to expect."
Brock nodded. "Yeah," he muttered. "To get our asses kicked."