PokéLove

I blink my eyes open, finding myself not laying on my side or face like I usually do after sleeping, but instead on my back.

 

I attempt to move my hand to wipe the crust from my eyes, but I’m stopped and instead met with the shuffling noises of metal on metal. Looking down, I find myself wrapped in several layers of thick metal chains, some of which have been lacerated by my Octillery Arms.

 

Trying to blink away the crust, I take stock of my surroundings…and they aren’t great.

 

I’m in a forest which is problematic since 50% of Kalos is just forested land. However, unlike the usual hued green that you can find everywhere, the trees here are dyed black in the night, only illuminated by the full moon above. Instead of the soft brown bark that can normally be found, these trees are pitch black and reek of tar.

 

Personally, I’m tied to a stone altar of some sort with metal chains, and it’s giving me back problems. It is also reminding me that, even if I have crystals that serve as massive batteries for my arms, I need power generation to match it as the Octillery Arms are all but dead.

 

On four similar stone altars are Serena and Bonnie to my left and Ash and Clemont to my right. Unlike me, they’re all tied with rope and they’re still unconscious. Notably, due to Serena’s bust size, whoever tied us up left her chest open, emphasizing her breasts further.

 

Arceus, what’s wrong with me? I’m in a potentially life-threatening situation, and I’m focused on one of my many crush’s breasts.

 

With nothing else to observe, I begin shifting around in my chains, attempting to free myself again. However, at the sound of my chains, several hooded figures step out from the trees in a circle surrounding us, putting a stop to my escape efforts immediately.

 

With my brain feeling like scrambled egg from whatever happened in my head, and anger being the obvious wrong choice here, I do the next best thing. “How do you do, fellas?” I greet with my best smirk, acting totally nonchalant about everything going on.

 

The figures, mostly male but it’s hard to tell with the baggy robes, stop their approach and look at each other. “Withers,” one harshly whispers, “the dangerous one has awoken. You promised us that your drug would keep her asleep for another hour!”

 

Withers, I presume, whispers back in an annoyed response. “My dosage was correct for a reading of 0.5. That’s the number I was given.”

 

“Then why is she awake?!”

 

“I don’t know. Did Redwood measure her correctly?”

 

At that, the two arguing figures turn to a third who…sheepishly looks down. Oddly enough, the rest of the figures look mildly annoyed, as if this isn’t the first time this has happened.

 

“I may have just reused the others’ measurement,” Redwood replies.

 

Withers scoffs, and the other figure smarmily remarks, “See, this is why you never got considered for promotions.”

 

“Enough!” Another new, and tired, voice commands, ignoring their rule about whispering. “It matters not if they are all awake or not, for the Midnight Storm approaches. Redwood, you will be punished later. As a scientist, you should know to always confirm your data.”

 

*Rumble*

 

I roll my eyes at this entire conversation. Since they’ve taken to ignoring me, I’ve been looking through my memories to see if any of these names have meaning. Well, they all appear to match authors of several prominent scientific papers that all came from the same laboratory.

 

“Hey,” I speak up, grabbing their attention. “I have a feeling I’m going to die, and I’d like a few questions answered before I go. Did any of you work at the International Institute of Scientific Progress?”

 

Exactly every single hooded figure straightens up at my question.

 

“Yes,” the older figure replies. “We’re all former employees of that institute. You may know me as Martin Cotton.”

 

I nod, idly. “Yeah, Dr. Cotton. I read your paper on the refinement of plastics—all 82 pages.”

 

He scoffs. “Really? What was the first topic discussed in it?”

 

“Ethylene distillation,” I reply, looking to the stars for ideas on stalling for time.

 

“Oh, shit.” He replies, then an arm extends from the robe as he looks at his watch, then to the sky at the rapidly approaching clouds. “I guess we have some time to answer questions.”

 

Really? That did it for him? Okay, well, I won’t look a gift Ponyta in the mouth. “Great. What’s this measurement you guys keep talking about?”

 

Cotton remains silent for a moment before gesturing to one of the other figures. “Bring it here,” he commands, and the figure runs off. “To answer your question, it is my most revolutionary discoveries in my scientific career, and it is proof that we’re living in a lie.”

 

“Cool. I’m kind of curious to see what you found that turned a bunch of scientists into…people running around in the dark woods with possible religious intentions.”

 

The figure returns with a golden treasure chest, presenting it on one knee to Cotton. He opens it and takes out what appears to be the child between a digital camera and an improvised explosive.

 

“You know what,” I remark. “I’m not that curious anymore.”

 

He approaches, keeping the camera’s focus on me. “Stay still.”

 

“I don’t have a choice,” I mumble.

 

The camera flashes, and he gives puts the camera back in the chest. “We presumed that certain parts of physics are absolute. That nothing can change them. We called them laws.”

 

“Uh huh. Hold on, let me guess. You found something that challenges those laws, and that somehow shattered your perception of reality? I don’t know how to explain this to you, but that happened with the discovery of quantum mechanics.”

 

He shakes his head. “No. We found something…more troubling. My device measures the ratio between how much you effect the universe and how much the universe affects you. If the laws of reality were just and absolute, it would always measure zero. If it were positive, then that means you have more effect on the universe, and negative means you’re effected more.”

 

I raise an eyebrow at the familiar conjectures. “An example being?”

 

He chuckles. “Someone with a positive value could survive an explosion with only a scratch.” He gives another sadder chuckle. “If that were it, we would have been happy. Perhaps a revolution for the medical and aerospace industries, but that would’ve been it.”

 

He looks me in the eye, grabbing for the camera again. “The number is variable. It is not constant. The amount of care reality has for you is not constant. If Arceus is real, then the care they have for you is not constant.”

 

He dials some settings in the camera. “We all had a reading of 0.1, but I had a reading of 0.15. However, we noticed that certain figures like gym leaders and celebrities had higher readings in the 0.2 and 0.4 range. However, after a certain event, they drop down to 0.1 like the rest. We hypothesized that perhaps the number favored celebrities and the famous, but, after permission to attach a larger version of this to a satellite, we discovered something different.”

 

He walks over to Ash, putting a gnarled finger on his cap. “This boy has a perfect rating of 1.0. I don’t know if he was born with it or if some legendary or mythical pokémon gave it to him, but he has the attention of our gods, perhaps granting him immortality. Whoever his companions are get brought into the 0.8 and 0.9 values. Even we, being near him, are at 0.7.”

 

Moving with adept speed, he comes close, allowing me to see his face for the first time. The woods and this revelation has not been nice to him. He has appeared to have aged decades with saggy skin and yellowed teeth, yet he should only be in his late fifties. “What god can claim to be just if we are not all equally loved? What god gives preference when we are all worshipers?”

 

I choose my words carefully. “It’s the intent in the worship.”

 

He smiles, letting me get a full view of his yellowed teeth, then he backs away. “We’re here tonight to run an experiment. The one to decide the fate of humanity. Can you beloved of Arceus truly die? There’s going to be a storm tonight, and we’ve attached several lightning rods to trees and connected those to your altars. We’ll see if nature can let Ash Ketchum die.”

 

Okay, suffice it to say. This guy has gone insane. I slowly shuffle my hands to grab for my pokéballs.

 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “We’ve disposed of those pesky pokéballs in the woods, along with that annoying Pikachu.”

 

“You have something against pokémon?” I ask, buying more time.

 

He shrugs. “They’re made in the image of the false god. We’ve used them for their purpose in making a fake town to lure you all in, but that was it.”

 

He goes back to his camera, pausing when he looks at the screen. Then he slowly turns to me, eyes thin with suspicion. “Did you know…that when we discovered that Ash was a perfect 1.0 we had the hypothesis of a perfect 0.0 and even a perfect -1.0?”

 

He chuckles. “The thought of someone that nobody cared for and everybody hated. Well, the perfect -1.0 turned out true. It’s whoever is Ash’s greatest threat in each region he travels. Did you know that Ash has danger surround him, yet he always comes out on top? Funny isn’t it.”

 

He turns the screen to face me. “Apparently, nobody loves you, not even a false god.” He does a scan of Serena and Clemont, who are directly next to me, and he makes a face.

 

“Knock her out and dispose of her,” he commands the others. “She’s bringing down the values of the other subjects.”

 

*RUMBLE* Another rumble punctuates his statement, but this one is not of distant thunder… In fact, it kind of sounds like—

 

A helicopter flies overhead, shining a beacon of light on this clearing. Several figures arrive from the woods. Many rangers, officers, pokémon, and…Team Magma members? Anyway, they all surround us, looking several degrees of pissed.

 

“Wha?” Cotton spins around, panicked.

 

“You know,” a painfully familiar face and voice calls from the trees, causing the sea of agents to split. “The Institute has been looking for you for a while.”

 

Fear turns to anger as Cotton now has a target. “You! Who are you?”

 

Walking forward with his beige trench coat sweeping behind him with the wind generating by the helicopter. He steps forward with a casual cool smile. “Me? I’m an agent of the International Police Force, and I’m here to help someone that I love dearly. You can call me Looker, though.”

 

Agent Looker, though, turns his attention from the irate scientist towards me. “Hey, cupcake. I got your email…and several concerned calls from your mom…and an extremely confusing text from a Team Magma Admin.”

 

I weakly smile. “Hey…dad…”