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axolotlFennel, Amanita, and Julie sat in one of the Game Freak conference rooms, Fennel and Amanita staring at computer terminals set up on a large table while Julie stared out at the city. Julie wore, for the first time in a long time, a pair of Pokeballs on her side next to the cube. When she walked to another window, they bumped lightly into each other, and she reached down, moving them slightly. She frowned. Were it not for Pokemon battles, none of this would be happening — Silver’s friends would not have died, Black wouldn’t be so miserable, Fennel and Amanita wouldn’t be on the run from their home, and she would never have had to leave the room she grew up in.
And that’s where it broke down. Without Pokemon, she would have been useless to Ghetsis, kept in the room of an underground fortress and ignored — or worse. Unlike her sisters, her use, her potential, her possibility for escape lay in her ability to talk to Pokemon, the fact that Pokemon would walk into balls for her when other trainers had to beat them into near unconsciousness. And it was on their backs, ultimately, that she’d thought she was free. With Zekrom, she thought she could extend the same freedom back to them, her partners, her friends.
Unfortunately, just as Pokemon were weapons to people, people were weapons to Ghetsis, something to wield when called for and conceal otherwise. Before, when Julie was still Ghetsis’s son, the room with its painted sky and colored blocks was her Pokeball, its walls delineating her world until he chose to wield her. After that, Black had been her Pokeball, a constant presence who simultaneously appealed to her and made her long for distance, a glass wall that grew thicker the more she thought about escape. Then, for a time, Mt. Silver, but it was not a large enough Pokeball for two people, so she lost herself in the process of becoming-woman, making of herself, her own identity, a Pokeball; and dreaming that in the process of transition she would be able to release herself from it, to be in the world unwalled. Was she free now? Perhaps she had been for a moment, but Zekrom would not allow her to sever her connection to Unova and the machinations of Plasma. So here she was.
She turned to Amanita. “What exactly are you working on?”
Amanita looked up from her screen, looking way up at Julie and refocusing her eyes. “They’re all the same Kyurem.”
Julie blinked. “What?”
Fennel pushed her chair back from the table. “Well, definitionally, there’s only one Kyurem like there’s one Zekrom or one Reshiram, right? Or one Arceus?” She adjusted her glasses. “But I’ve seen four of them in the same place. So there’s got to be more than one, right?”
Amanita shook her head. “In order for their exploit to work, all of the Pokeballs have to have the same exact checksum code. That’s probably why we’ve only seen them use one Pokemon. They manufactured all of the Pokeballs to the same spec and then realized they couldn’t actually put anything else in them.” She tapped her fingers rapidly at the back of her neck. “But something’s fishy about this.”
“They’re not the same Kyurem.” Julie frowned, twirling green around her fingers. “Once they’ve been split, they have different experiences. Identical twins aren’t the same person, and neither are identical Pokemon. They have different souls.”
Amanita looked over the rims of her glasses. “Souls aren’t part of the data structure.”
Julie kicked at the carpet a bit and spoke rapidly. “It’s not about data structure or balls or power levels or anything most trainers care about. The experiences of every Pokemon are different. They’re different people as soon as you let them out of their balls in different places!”
Amanita made a face, but Fennel cut in before the younger sister could say anything. “So while there may only be one original Kyurem, you can’t say these are all the same Pokemon, is what you’re saying.” Julie nodded. “But how are we going to deal with hundreds of Kyurems running around?”
Julie stared out the window and fidgeted with a bracelet, turning it around her wrist over and over again. “I don’t know.”
“Well.” Amanita stood up. “I think we should just steal all the Pokeballs, put them in the PC box, and forget about them.”
“You might as well kill them.” Julie shivered.
Amanita’s voice was flat. “We could do that, too.” Julie gasped.
“No one is killing any Pokemon!” Fennel glared at her sister until Amanita sat down, moving back in front of her computer and typing half-heartedly. “But we do need some sort of solution. Amanita. Is there any way we could recapture a Kyurem?”
“There’s no way to override a Pokémon’s bond with a Pokeball without being able to overcome both checksums. We’ve got one because we know what the box looks like, but to get the second we’d have to know everything about that Pokémon’s exact state. No human can do that, and a computer would take too long. There are millions of possibilities for the value, and you can’t just try each one.”
Julie’s hand stopped on her bracelet. “A human can’t do it, and a computer can’t do it. Could a Pokemon?” Fennel and Amanita looked at each other, and for the first time all day, Amanita smiled.
pslightlypsychoactive: paging sinnohliepard oneiricspice: Cynthia Cynthia Cynthia!!! juniperusunoviana: Last I heard she was fighting Rockets. oneiricspice: What's the Pokemon she hates? juniperusunoviana: Gallade? oneiricspice: No the other one! sinnohliepard: I don't hate Gallade. Just, awkward memories. oneiricspice: Cynthia!! :D The one that can stop Spiritomb. sinnohliepard: Oh you mean Patrat? It's just anything that can learn Foresight, I don't hate Patrat specifically. pslightlypsychoactive: wait pslightlypsychoactive: that's the one that identifies a pokemon right sinnohliepard: Yes? pslightlypsychoactive: bring me all the fucking patrats pslightlypsychoactive: bring them to me now juniperusunoviana: Er, it's an egg move... oneiricspice: DO WHAT YOU NEED TO DO.
Black and Silver hid in the crowd, Black’s hat pulled over his eyes and Silver slouching enough that his hair didn’t stick out between bystanders. Twelve Rockets with guns had herded the crowd into the square while four Plasma Grunts with Kyurems stood by the Castelia City Fountain. Black fidgeted with his Pokeballs while Silver held Eevee close to his chest, a few of the people in the crowd recognizing Black and watching him expectantly.
“We should charge,” Black hissed, “before they realize we’re here.
Silver shook his head slightly and squeezed Eevee. “People will die.”
Black grabbed Samurott’s Pokeball and put his finger on the button. “They wouldn’t fire on the unarmed. We just need surprise.” He stepped on Silver’s foot, and the other man flinched.
“People will die,” he repeated, shaking his head more firmly.
“Well we can’t just let them!” Black looked over to the fountain; a black car had pulled up, and some of the Rockets were attending to it. The driver, dressed all in black with a purple and gray mohawk, smiled out at the assembly. He stood slowly out of the car, and opened the back door, saluting as Giovanni stepped out of the car. Black took the man in. He was older than Black’s parents, broadly built, with a remarkably unwrinkled face. He wore a three-piece suit with a black R on the breast, barely visible against the dark fabric except when the fabric caught the light. He did not wear his Pokeballs on his belt or at his side; he held just one in his left hand as he looked back at the crowd. This was the man who had defeated him. It would not happen again.
Silver’s eyes were closed, and he held Eevee tightly enough that the Pokemon looked uncomfortable; he remembered Giovanni and his Rockets shooting through a cafe in Kanto. He remembered Green, laying out on the floor, and Kotone... He’d thought for some reason that he could do this, that he could face his father and fight him and win? He was just baggage, again, always. If Rocket were to fall, it would be a Champion, as it always was, and Silver would never be a Champion. He should have been the one to fall, not Kotone. Kotone would arrive from the sky at the last minute and fix everything. Here, the only person to arrive from the sky was an older man in a gaudy cloak covered in colored eyes. The man, taller than Giovanni, jumped down from his Hydreigon and stood back to back with the Rocket leader for a moment, the four Plasma Grunts bowing.
“Prepare for trouble!” Ghetsis’s voice boomed out, more powerful than Silver had expected. It was almost the opposite of Julie speaking — assertive and immediate but without any hint of deeper meaning. Silver suspected this man would have no difficulty lying.
“Make it double,” said Giovanni, and Silver tensed up. His father’s voice sounded so frail — where in Kanto he’d sounded completely in control, here he was muted, unsure despite the presence he commanded physically. Silver wondered if his father, too, ended up finding himself someone else’s rival.
“People of Castelia City!” Ghetsis whirled around, stalking in front of Giovanni, pointing his staff at the crowd. “Years ago I appeared before you and asked you to give your Pokemon freedom. You chose not to do so! Instead, a hero of truth and a hero of ideals dueled across the region, and eventually for the office of the Champion, and for a time, truth triumphed. But now, ideals have taken that place back, in the form of Team Rocket, who have taken over Pokemon governance in this region.” He gestured to Giovanni, who nodded, tossing his Pokeball in his hand slightly. “But! Pokemon governance is no longer the highest law of this land! Instead, I, the reigning King of Team Plasma, am in control.” Giovanni frowned but stayed silent. “All of you who still insist on keeping Pokemon in captivity, you will give your Pokemon to me now, or suffer the consequences!”
People mumbled to each other, keeping eyes on Ghetsis, but most of them reached for their Pokeballs and put them down, stepping away. Black looked at Silver, who was still in shock, and then stepped forward, feeling like his feet sank into the concrete. The crowd parted until he faced Ghetsis directly, releasing Samurott in front of him, the Pokemon roaring and drawing one of its shellblades. “I choose consequences.”
Immediately twelve Rocket rifles were pointed at him, but Giovanni waved them off, taking a step forward. “If I may,” he said to Ghetsis, who nodded. “You’re the boy I defeated when I conquered this miserable excuse for a region. Have you no shame, challenging me again, publicly no less? What sort of trainer are you to return with your wounds unlicked and ask me to reopen them?” His eyes caught Silver, and he smiled broadly, a manic tinge as he extended his Pokeball straight out. “Are you here on his behalf? I always took him for a queer, but not you.”
Black turned halfway toward Silver, who stared glumly at Giovanni, Eevee growling. The crowd watched him, none of them looking like they expected him to win this battle. Even if he did win this battle, he realized, he’d have to fight Ghetsis, and four more Kyurems, and somehow avoid getting shot, and... He turned back to Giovanni, and lifted his hand slowly, pointing at the older trainer. “Call out your Pokemon.”
Giovanni nodded, and released Persian. The two Pokemon stared at each other for a moment, and then the cat moved first, running up toward Samurott. Black called out “Swords Dance!” and Samurott whirled around, preparing for a strike. At Giovanni’s command, Persian closed its eyes, and yowled, and called forth a bolt of lightning, which arced into the whirling Samurott’s blades and into the Pokémon’s body. Samurott crumpled, moaning in pain, and Black bit his lip, willing himself to keep standing. A dull roar filled the air as Black recalled Samurott and sent out Reshiram, and Giovanni called out Kangaskhan, the normal-type staring up at Reshiram and waiting for a command. The roar grew louder as Ghetsis’s Hydreigon flew up into the air, and both Giovanni and Black looked up.
Julie and Zekrom flew down from the Game Freak rooftop, speeding toward the fountain square. Giovanni called out, and the Rockets aimed their guns at Zekrom, firing in groups; the bullets were absorbed by Zekrom’s Protect, and before they could fire a second round, the roar was cut short with a squeal as Cynthia’s car slammed to a halt in the midst of half of the Rockets, Cynthia jumping up from the passenger seat and leveling a pistol directly at Giovanni’s head, both hands on the grip, arms completely still. Immediately, the purple-haired man released Koffings, who filled the air with toxic gas while the Rocket Boss was stuffed back into the car. The crowd turned on the remaining Rockets, and Ghetsis and the four Plasma Grunts hopped on their Pokemon, taking to the sky.
Black jumped on Reshiram and, about to take off, he stopped when Silver grabbed his arm, staring at him and pointing to the Rockets. While their guns had been wrestled away, two had managed to release Kyurems, and the few Pokemon in the crowd were vastly overmatched. Black thought for a moment, and then dismounted, nodding. “Reshiram! Let’s get those knockoff dragons out of here!” When Silver released his arm, he noticed that Julie was holding Silver’s, and he squeezed Reshiram’s Pokeball in his hand, the hinge shifting slightly. “Blue Flare, go!”
Cynthia lowered her gun, and called out a Patrat, unable to hide a broad smile. “Foresight,” she said, and Fennel, behind the wheel of the car, pulled out a collection of circuit board and wires connected to a Pokeball.
“...and so if you have any ideas for what to do with about a thousand Kyurems I would really appreciate it, as soon as possible, because if all goes well we’re going to have a thousand Kyurems and if things go poorly we’re definitely going to have a thousand Kyurems.” Iris put down Cynthia’s letter. “I don’t know, I kind of want a thousand Kyurems. Is that crazy?”
“Yes,” said Morty, sipping at his tea, “but it’s hardly crazier than anything else going on over there.” He put down his mug. “Or here, I guess.” He looked up at the ceiling fan, watching the shadow of a push pin in the ceiling flicker long and short, long and short. “I want to help, but we have to be prepared to defend ourselves here if Unova falls, and while Cynthia’s good...” Iris tapped her foot. “There is a story that a legendary Pokemon has the power to transform other Pokemon into different kinds of Pokemon.”
“There are a lot of stories,” said Iris, waving a hand.
Morty smiled laconically. “That there are. And admittedly I only know of Ho-Oh changing three Pokemon, but I think the principle still holds.” He leaned forward across the table. “But I can refrain from storytelling, if you’d like.”
Iris’s shoulders sagged and she leaned back in her chair, looking at the thin strips of sunlight coming in from the blinded windows. “Fine, sorry, tell me a story.”
“It’s said that a rainbow-hued Pokemon will come down to appear before a truly powerful Trainer. I spent my youth hoping to be that trainer, only to discover that trainer was Kotone, our former champion, and your colleague Silver’s injured partner.” Morty shrugged. “If you can really call that boy a colleague. He’s neither collegiate nor congenial.”
“I only met him briefly, he seemed boring. What was the legendary Pokemon like?”
Morty smiled again, more broadly. “Ho-Oh is beautiful. Its feathers shine with every color, and it can see into your heart with half of a glance. It’s like staring at the sun.” He looked down at the table, watching the ripples in the last of his tea, and his smile faded to contemplation. “And I... might have promised its power to Lance before I knew it would help you. Because Ho-Oh might have the power to bring the dead back to life.”
Iris gritted her teeth. “Whatever. We can just use it to do both, right?”
Morty shook his head. “To do either, Ho-Oh must set itself aflame and burn to ashes. Even assuming we can get it to help us, it will likely not return in our lifetimes.”
