*JACK*
Chapter Sixth:
Pay your dues
image [https://i.imgur.com/4xtChOK.png]
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Pallet Town, Ketchum Household, 1:22am (2 hours after Jack’s attack) …
There was a unit of six armed grunts surrounding the house and a Viridian Police Department officer interrogating Delia in the living room. Among them, Professor Oak and Viridian City’s gym leader Giovanni were also present, the latter of which was providing his own private security officers for a “dear friend in distress”.
“Roughly what time did this occur, Mrs. Ketchum?”
The shaken Delia, looking vacant for a moment, closed her eyes as she said, “It must have been close to midnight…” She shuddered and Professor Oak placed a hand on her back and rubbed comfortingly, clear of the bandage dressing that had been wrapped around her wounded shoulder.
“And as you have said, a Persian that you kept inside your nightstand was what saved you?”
She nodded.
“Is it your own Pokémon?”
She glanced at Giovanni, and he gave her the slightest hint of a smile.
“No, she belongs to Mr. Giovanni.”
Oak’s and the VPD officer’s eyes trailed over to the gym leader.
“He lent her to me a few months ago.”
The Viridian officer nodded as he took note. “Is there a reason in particular why he would lend you the Pokémon?”
Delia shifted, adjusting the thin blanket over herself. “Well, he knows I sometimes walk to the markets outside of town, and he knew I had no Pokémon of my own. It was just for security.”
She looked at Giovanni and her eyes welled up with tears. “Thank you.”
Mr. Giovanni leaned over from his own seat and cupped his hands around Delia’s own. “You’ll take my advice more seriously from now on.”
There was a brief laugh as the adults shared the only light-hearted moment of the night, but the mood became sombre again when Delia resumed her police statement.
“I could not see who it was or recognize the voice. He screamed loudly, and angrily at the Gengar that had entered the house.” Her eyes became distant again. “He told them to kill me…”
Professor Oak leaned back with a serious frown on his brows. Giovanni had a finger to his chin, stroking it gently, listening attentively.
After Delia provided the full chronology of events, the officer asked if there were any people she might know that would want to harm her.
“I know no one.”
“What of that visitor you had recently?” Giovanni said. “The one who stayed here a while…”
“Jack?” Professor Oak said skeptically, and Delia’s eyes shifted in thought. She frowned.
“It couldn’t be him. He left in the morning…”
“Left where?” the officer quickly asked.
“Umm… well he didn’t say where to exactly.”
“He was having a major case of amnesia, officer,” Professor Oak added. “He had mentioned something about going to look for answers.”
Giovanni leaned back, placing his hands on his laps as he shared a knowing look with the Viridian Police officer. The officer only nodded slowly.
“Tell me everything you know of this ‘Jack’.”
At a certain point during the conversation, Delia, utterly stunned, put a hand to her mouth at the horrifying implication.
⨕⨕⨕
Somewhere relatively close to Pallet Town...
“Fucking hell… fucking hell.” The pain on Jack’s shoulder was immense. His blood loss, probably worse. Still, his body was moving but he feared it would not be long until it gave out.
“Fucking bitch…”
It was likely rage that kept him moving. The untold rage that failing his start had ignited in him.
Jack was a superstitious man. A man of signs and meaning. Failing to kill Delia had caused him to doubt himself, and doubt was by far the worst curse known to man. Doubt was the only feeling he would not live with.
There must be a reason. What is it I am to learn from this?
Weedle was inside its Poké Ball, stuffed deep in the bag. Jack understood that the circumstances had changed, so it would not be right to blame it for this shortcoming. Nevertheless, his heart did blame it for losing so easily to Delia’s panther Pokémon.
“One swipe was all it took…”
He would not toss the Weedle. Yet. First because he was still close to Pallet Town, and second, because he was sure that the worm would still prove useful. The hood of webs, Jack had torn and wrapped it around the bite wound agonizingly.
Jack had teetered along non-stop with the aim of reaching Mt Hideaway. It was a peak visible from Pallet Town, a mountain with rocky slopes and sparse with green as seen during the day. The original plan had been to make for Viridian City, some days walk away, but considering his injury, he’d have to settle for the couple hours trek to the mountain.
He had watched the television enough in the last two weeks, and he knew that there was a plethora of Pokémon that the law-enforcement could employ to catch him. Of them all, he feared the one known as Houndoom, a satanic and devilish counterpart to the dogs he knew, capable of breathing a ‘poisonous’ fire that left a victim with searing pain that would not recede unless treated.
When he reached a running stream, he dipped himself, clothes and all, and grabbed clumps of mud from the edge, smearing himself with it in hopes that he could mask his scent from any sniffer Pokémon.
“Delia, Delia…” he muttered. “Look at the trouble you’ve caused.”
He continued on for another hour before finally reaching the slope. Mt Hideaway was just about as far as Jack could manage, and he hoped it would be enough. The night was filled with calls and coos of Pokémon going about their night-time business, but Jack was too preoccupied to pay them much mind. He did not feel the wilds were as dangerous as people made them out to be, especially with the Gengar twins acting as his guardian angels.
If I am attacked, they will save me. If they do not, then at last this whole charade can end.
His stomach grumbled and he smiled snarkily. He opened his bag and jogged his memory on what supplies he had been given by the Ketchums:
---- Firelighters. There would be no issues starting a fire.
---- Money. Close to 5000 PokéDollars. Enough to buy food for a few weeks.
---- A map of Southwestern Kanto with circled areas where he could find lodging or diners.
---- A flashlight.
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---- The knife meant for killing (unbeknownst to Delia).
---- And of course, Weedle in a ball. Courtesy of Professor Oak.
He licked his lips and gave a bitter chuckle. “I would eat you, Weedle… but you’re the only creature that’ll listen to me.”
If he had either of the Gengar twins inside a Poké Ball, it might have well been Weedle’s last night alive. Roasted grub would have really hit the spot right then, but if there was something that Jack respected more than divine duty, it was loyalty. Loyalty was a rare quality among men and women, and it was the one quality that had spared a number of Englishfolk from the Ripper’s blade.
Weedle had displayed great loyalty this night, and that was worth giving another chance. Jack brought the worm out. It wiggled and squirmed on the ground as if it had walked all the way with Jack.
“What’s the matter?”
Weedle edged closer to Jack, burrowing itself in between its new master and the bag.
“You’re hurt?”
It gave out a little chittering sound. Jack grabbed it with a hand and placed it by his outspread feet. “You are on guard duty, worm. Of the two of us, I’m closer to death. Let me sleep first.”
Weedle managed to rear up and wrap itself around one of Jack’s feet, and the Englishman was far too tired to care. He grabbed the bag and used it as a pillow, and there at the foot of Mt Hideaway, Jack fell into a cold and uncomfortable sleep.
It only felt like minutes had passed, but Jack knew it had been longer. Weedle was no longer at his foot, but rather somewhere in the dark, whining and chittering.
“Weedle!” Jack called out, sitting up. There were darting movements in the shrubs and small squeals and cries accompanying them. Jack groaned as the pain in his shoulder began to thaw, but got up, pulled out the flashlight from the bag, and limped from the soreness, towards the sound of his chittering Pokémon.
“What is it boy?” He switched on the flashlight and a rush of critters darted away into the dark. Weedle chittered again and Jack pointed the light up to the trees, spotting Weedle some ten feet up, clutching a branch with a large wrapping of webs hanging below it.
The webbed object jerked violently and Weedle chittered as it poked its horn-sting at it.
“You caught something!? Something to eat!?”
Jack rushed over, limping like a man with polio and holding his hands out like an eager beggar. “Drop it down then!” he ordered. “I’ll catch it.”
Weedle poked the trapped creature a few more times and just as Jack was beginning to lose his patience, the web holding it snapped. The Englishman smiled as he wrapped his sinewy fingers around it, keeping it in a strangling hold.
Something would die tonight it seemed.
The flesh was tough but tasty. He had been sure to cook it close to crisp, to burn all of Weedle’s poison away.
“A rattata,” Jack told his worm as he munched. “One could not make this up.” He chuckled with a mouthful of rattata meat. “Here I am, eating bush rats hunted by my own pet worm…”
He eyed Weedle across the embers of a fire. “I’m impressed, Weedle. Truly.”
This worm is worth keeping. I should find out whether it can achieve an evolution.
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Right before dawn, Jack awoke to faint tremors in the earth. He remained still, palms open against the ground to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. The earth was trembling ever so slightly, and the Englishman did not like it.
He sighed. “What bizarre monstrosity will you introduce to me next?” he said to himself, beginning to stand. “I’m growing weary of all this novelty.”
The injured shoulder was swollen but the pain had subsided, unless he touched it that was, in which case, it was still excruciating. It had quickly occurred to him that he had been extremely lucky to survive until now. Without the distraction from his red-eyed protector gnomes, that panther would have surely been his end.
“I’m going to kill that thing, and then I’ll bash Delia with its skull.”
But such a thing was unlikely, only a daydream.
Weedle had curled itself up in the bag, and Jack let it be. It had earned itself a little rest.
Where should I go?
Jack had heard that some people lived in the woods in cottages or cabins, and he considered sniffing out one such place. If he came across other hospitable folk, that would be best, but it would make little difference to him whether he was welcomed or not. A rattata had been his first kill in this world, but there was still an emptiness in him. An emptiness that he felt would only be filled once he had sent God a human soul.
He had a hard time understanding it himself, and it was eating away at him. Man or woman, someone would have to die soon. Only then would he be sure.
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When the day broke, he gathered his things and put Weedle back in its ball. He had noticed that wild Pokémon would take a bigger interest in him with the worm outside its confines. Once he was set, he stomped at the fireplace, smudging it into the earth, and lobbed the spit sticks he had used to roast the rattata.
Nose to the air, Jack closed his eyes, and after several moments, he started walking, sticking along the foot of the mountain.
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The slight trembling in the earth was detectable now even as he walked. It was getting closer. Jack refused to turn back towards Pallet Town, imagining teams already on the hunt for him. Rather, he would trek and cut across the mountain and hopefully distance himself from the worrying tremors in the ground.
It was no use, the mountain itself seemed to be the source of them because the higher Jack climbed, the stronger they grew.
Nobody would be living out here. I should turn back.
As Jack deliberated whether he should risk sticking around the Pallet vicinity, a loud shout was heard in the distance.
It had sounded like a man.
Jack moved in the direction almost automatically.
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A thrashing of boulders beat against the ground, cracking the earth and blasting the air with noise.
“Machaaoogh!”
What the fucking hells…
A four-armed grey man, tall and muscular was wrestling with a massive pile of rocks. The rocks, each big as a watermelon and connected by some invisible force, wrapped themselves around the hulking, four-armed man.
I’ve seen that one on the television! The strength of a thousand men …
Jack should have run, but the strength of a thousand men was not something he could so easily walk away from. He would trade his worm for this monster without a moment’s hesitation. At the end of the day, Pokémon were beasts, and as the Christian bible noted, God had given man dominion over all of creation.
That much was plain to see! Look! A world filled with supernatural creatures that could snuff a human out in a flash, and yet here man was, putting them in balls and lugging them around like toys and pets! It was hysterical!
Jack would capture the strength of a thousand men.
He released Weedle from the ball and spoke.
“I don’t expect you can do much, Weedle, but -”
The worm, upon seeing the thrashing scuffle, hid behind Jack, climbing his master’s leg.
Jack winced as he bent and snatched the worm with his good arm. He whispered at it with his mouth close to its head.
“All I need is a few String Shots, that’s all.” He smirked, bobbing his head as he tracked the tumultuous wrestling with his eyes.
Jack planned to make Weedle’s Poké Ball the new cage for that four-armed monster, and he only needed a distraction.
“Weech!” Weedle chittered. “Eeedl!” it whined, latching onto Jack’s cardigan and trying to crawl its way to his shoulder.
Jack pursed his lips and wrenched the worm free, holding it out at arm’s length.
“I am in as much danger as you,” he spoke calmly, masking the red-hot frustration that was surging inside him. “If you do not want to help, then sit tight.” He smiled sweetly at Weedle and put it back upon his shoulder.
If I capture that monster alone, this worm will be what we eat tonight.
The only reason to put back upon his shoulder was on the off-chance that it would protect him in some manner when push came to shove.
Speaking of protection… where were the Gengar twins? Jack glanced about hopingly.
“MACHAMP!!!” a voice screamed. “SEISMIC TOSS!”
The four-arms roared and leapt off the ground, pulling along the bundle of rocks with it. Jack’s jaw hung open as his head craned up to watch the rocks come undone and uncoil, revealing it to be some kind of serpent made of stones. The figures flailed in the air, some 30 feet high, and the four-armed Pokémon let out a sharp groan as it grappled onto the rock-serpents head in mid-air.
They came down like a falling building and crashed into the ground like a blast of dynamite.
Before the dust settled, Jack was already hobbling away, grimacing at the pain in his wounded shoulder.
“You there!” the same voice called, but Jack kept hobbling.
“You!” there was a crash and Weedle screeched in panic. A tall, shirtless man stood before him with odd, large metal bands around his wrists and a pair of torn, pleated trousers that looked more like a skirt for each leg. He was bronze-skinned like the Indians but built like the Nordic strongmen. His eyes were black and beady, his hair unkempt and spiky, and his eyebrows bushy like small shrubs. A fucking wild man.
Jack put his hands up with uncertainty. And what Pokémon is this?
The muscled bush-man took a step towards Jack, and the Englishman gritted his teeth as he slowly lowered his arms.
“You speak?” Jack said.
“Speak?” the bushman replied, cocking his head. “Whatever gave you the idea that I couldn’t?”
Jack shook his head. “It isn’t polite to assume.”
The bushman circled around Jack slowly. “Are you hurt?” he said, tapping his own muscle-bound shoulder.
“Yes, quite badly.”
After a slightly tense introduction, the two men sat together, and Jack spoke a few lies to conceal the truth behind his injury.
The man was called Bruno, and he was apparently a big-shot Pokémon trainer well-known within the region.
“I suppose that four-armed Pokémon belongs to yourself?”
“It does. We come here to the mountains to train. The Onix here are formidable.”
Onix, the rock-serpent monster. Jack made mental notes.
“But you need to get to a clinic, or that wound will get infected.”
Jack sighed and wiped his forehead with a sleeve. The bushman, Bruno, stood and pointed at himself with a thumb.
“Don’t worry… we'll give you a ride!”
To Jack, getting a piggyback from a Machamp would have been exhilarating if it weren’t for his growing fever and throbbing headache. The wound was beginning to fester, and the only reason why he hadn’t succumbed earlier was because his body knew that survival depended on himself. At the soonest suggestion of aid, his body had relaxed, and allowed itself to enter into that feverish mode one enters at the start of recovery.
Bruno was keeping up with Machamp, bounding side-by-side like super-powered freaks.
“How did you get this strong?” Jack managed to say. If he’d had a fraction of this strength, killing Delia and her panther would have been a breeze.
Bruno smiled and gave Jack a sideways glance. “There is no right answer but hard work.”
Jack slackened in Machamp’s firm but gentle grip atop its back.
I went for the kill and failed. I failed because I acted in haste. This is Your lesson, isn’t it? I need to learn more about these Pokémon. I will pay my due diligence from now on.
Jack closed his eyes. There was much to study.