Chapter 11: The Choice

“Well you’ve really stepped in it this time, haven’t you little man?”

I jolted awake as someone spoke directly into my ear. The harsh movement caused me to overbalance and topple backwards out of my chair, slamming the back of my head into the floor. My feet continued their journey, leaving me sprawled on the ground in a plow pose. My chest twinged from being compressed.

“My, my. I see why they’re all so afraid,” the voice chuckled, “with grace like that, we’ll all be consumed by the malignant anomaly within the week.”

I was confused for a moment, my sleep-addled brain still catching up with my situation, but as I stared up at the harsh fluorescent bulbs, everything came rushing back.

“So it wasn’t a dream?” I whispered to myself.

“Afraid not,” the voice answered, “You, little man, are well and truly fucked.”

“It’s good to see you too, Daisy,” I sighed while glancing up at the woman from between my legs. The older Oak sibling was leaning against the table my feet had been propped on. She had thick light brown hair that fell in tangled curls. Impossibly vibrant green eyes gazed from a pale, slender face.

I’d think she was beautiful, if it wasn’t for the insufferable grin. I wondered if Gary had learned it from her, or if it was just genetic.

“Of course it's good to see me. Some people would pay good money for the experience” her smile grew, “Now get up. What would Joy think if she saw you like this?”

“Joy!” The last of my sleepiness was blasted away, and I rolled backwards and up to my feet. I’d been too exhausted to think about it before, but panic flooded my body now, “What happened to Dot and Joy? Are they ok? Is anyone hurt? Johnny wasn’t stupid enough to get involved in that fight, was he? Or Gary and Ash? How long was I asleep? Is the battle over?”

“Whoa, Whoa, cool your Camerupts,” she gently pushed me back. In my hysterics, I had gotten close enough to nearly be touching noses, “You’ve been out for twelve hours. Everybody’s fine. Though the jail’s packed tight. Bet my Grandpa made more arrests last night than Jenny has in a decade.”

“Oh thank god,” I nearly collapsed from relief.

“Which one?” she asked with a quirk of the brow, “oooh I bet it’d be Ghiratina. You little malignant heretic,” she snickered.

I could only groan and rub my eyes. It had been a while since I made that mistake. The people of Kanto mostly worshiped the mythical Pokemon Mew, with a smattering of Celebi from Johto. The “cult” of Arceus was growing in popularity and Jirachism was hated ever since the war, almost as much as Malignant primes.

“At this point, I’ll take whatever help I can get,” I joked. Thankfully, Daisy wasn’t a hardcore Mewist, or that could have been taken badly. Though, I guess my reputation couldn’t get any worse, now.

“That’s the spirit!” she clapped me on the back, the force of which nearly brought me to my knees and sent twinges of pain through my ribs and to my sternum.

“Careful!” I rubbed my deadened shoulder.

“Sorry squirt,” she grinned, “I’m not used to all you squishies.”

“What are you doing here anyway?” I gave her toned, yet deceptively thin, arm a scowl, “Shouldn’t you be off with your elite squad?”

“Jeez. I’m hurt,” she held her chest dramatically, “You didn’t even realize I was discharged yesterday?”

“I knew that your four years were up,” I grumbled, still massaging feeling back to the tingling point of impact, “but I thought you were going to keep enlisted. Last time we talked, it seemed like you were really enjoying the ‘danger, discovery, and damsel saving’.”

“Eh, the danger and discovery can be found anywhere. As for the damsels, why do you think I'm here?” she gave me a pointed look.

“You don’t need to save anybody from me,” I sneered, “I may have gotten the two malignants, but I'm not evil or crazy!”

She burst out laughing at the dirty look I gave her. It hurt a little to be taken so lightly. Sure, I didn’t want to be perceived as a threat—especially not by her—but I didn’t want to be written off so easily either.

“I know that, Laiton,” she wiped a tear from her eye, “You’re the damsel I'm saving.”

“Oh,” was my dumb reply. I’d been trying to prepare myself to be hated, or at least distrusted, by most everyone. Daisy and I had been close before she started her service with the rangers, but that was long ago. We’d kept in contact since, meeting when she was on leave or the occasional conversation over the Pokedex, but we’d definitely grown apart. It felt good that she still had faith in me.

“You know, most boys your age would be insulted if they were called a damsel, not happy,” she teased, wiping the involuntary smile from my face.

“Well most boys are idiots. What’s not to like about the damsel life?” I tried to save my image, “Somebody else solves all your problems for you, while you laze about. It's easy street. All you’ve got to have is good looks.”

“And a high pitched scream,” she grinned.

“I’ll have you know, that I shout manily… Masculinely… Manishly? Regardless, Me man. Me tough. Me no scream.”

“Oh really?” she raised an eyebrow. I definitely didn’t shriek as something wet and slimy rubbed down my neck, and that scream surely wasn’t extra high pitched because my voice cracked… I hated being fifteen again.

“Damn it Fang,” I rounded on Daisy’s giant Golbat, “you know how difficult it is to get your spit out of my hair,” the dark blue bat cackled as it hung from the ceiling. How I hadn’t noticed the Pokemon, despite its size, was beyond me. Though, he was always a sneaky brat.

“Now it’s going to be stuck like this,” I scowled as I tried to pat the back of my head down. His saliva could be turned into a corrosive acid or noxious poison with only a minor application of aura, but even without it, the substance was unnaturally thick and sticky.

He just grinned at my displeasure.

“Guess I'll be giving Matchstick all your treats,” I threatened.

His expression immediately changed to round puppy dog eyes. It had been more effective when he’d been the size of a soccer ball, and a majority of his torso didn’t consist of a maw filled with giant fangs… but I could still see that little Zubat when I looked in his eyes. The soft, chirping whine he gave while trying to rub his cheek against me, put him over the edge.

“Ok. Ok. I forgive you,” I relented, and scratched his forehead, the way I knew he liked.

“Well, now that you two have been reunited, I think it’s time we got this show on the road.” Daisy returned Fang and tapped some buttons on the wall. The lab door opened with a hiss, “Grandpa wants to see you. Oh! And you dropped this,” she tossed me a red and white marble. Zorua’s Pokeball.

I came crashing back to reality. For a moment there, I had forgotten how bad my situation was. Fate had said screw you, and saddled me with the most hated dual primary typing possible. Hopefully the professor knew what to do about my situation, because I sure didn’t.

“Come on squirt,” Daisy beckoned me after her.

I stuffed the ball in my pocket and followed. We passed through the cramped halls, abandoned housing, and cluttered testing chambers that made up the bowels of Oak’s lab. Considering the dust that covered most everything, this area hadn’t been used in years. There was a time when this facility housed over a hundred lab assistants, but that was before the war, when Oak used to run his compound like a normal clan. Now it was a dedicated research lab, and far fewer apprentices were interested in committing their life to that.

We took the central elevator up, and the amount of time we rode suggested we were much deeper down then I'd imagined. The doors opened with a classic ding, and we walked out into the main floor lobby. There were still several levels above, but Oak wasn’t the sort that needed his office to have the best view. Instead, it was on the ground floor, as close to the main lab as possible. Funny that a man who had unlimited access to teleportation concerned himself over the inconvenience of a thirty second elevator ride.

Daisy bypassed Jessica’s desk, Oak’s newest apprentice and thus designated minder/secretary. I gave her a little wave and received a hesitant nod in response; unusually reserved for the bubbly woman.

“I’ve got him Grandpa!” Daisy shouted as she kicked the office door so hard it broke off the hinges.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Would it kill you to learn a little restraint, Daisy?” The Professor rubbed his eyes in exasperation. He was seated behind a massive desk which was almost entirely layered in stacks of paper. There was only a small chunk open where an old computer monitor nestled.

“Would it kill you to install a reinforced door?” She shot back without remorse, “Even the lowliest grunt has that.”

“This isn’t the rangers.”

“You’re an ex-champion for Mew’s sake!”

Oak just sighed, realizing the argument wouldn’t go anywhere, and redirected his attention to me.

“How are you feeling, Laiton?” he asked with a calm smile.

“Uh, good. How about you?” I nearly face palmed at the stupid response. This was the first time I’d really talked with the living legend. There’d been a few exchanged pleasantries while I'd been around Gary, but never an actual conversation. I may have been a little star struck.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you,” his knowing grin was embarrassing, but I couldn't help it. He’d saved my ass, for Mew’s sake! Which now that I thought about it-

“Thank you for defending me, sir. If there’s anything I can do to-”

“Think nothing of it, my boy,” he waved off my offer before it was given, “I’d have done it for anyone.”

“Still, without your help I’d probably be…” even now, a part of me couldn’t accept that the people of Pallet had tried to do.

“Try not to judge them too harshly,” Oak must have seen something in my expression, “Exposure to high amounts of dark or ghost energy causes something primal in living creatures. A fight or flight response, essentially. Your ritual released a megadose of both simultaneously, which amplified that response to an unprecedented extreme, not to mention the hypnotic effect.

“It’s hypothesized that the mixed wavelength causes a hypersecretion in the amygdala, but the phenomenon is so rare that it hasn’t been well studied. We know the symptoms are tachycardia, rigor-”

Daisy snapped her fingers, “Focus, grandpa.”

“Right,” he rubbed the back of his head. I never thought I’d see the Professor Oak chastised, “the point is, most of the people will have calmed down by now.”

“That’s a relief,” it really was, “I knew malignant primes were hated, but not enough to try and kill a new aspirant over. With how badly they responded, part of me worried that skipping town was my best option.”

“...”

I’d never experienced a truly deafening silence, until this moment. There was literally a ringing sensation building in my ears from it, or that could just be the panic.

“Why?” was all I could manage.

“While there was an exaggerated hysterical effect last night, magnified by mob mentality, much of it was mitigated by Moltres’ flames. The people who attacked you will be facing rather extensive charges.”

“But-but, then why do I have to go? Daisy said you caught all of them.”

“At the ceremony, yes, but there are more,” Oak sighed, “News of you has spread rapidly. Somebody recorded your ritual and posted it to the Pokenet. All of Kanto knows now.”

“So? I can’t leave Pallet… Would somebody travel all the way here just to attack some nobody!?” I tried not to shout, but I was well and truly freaking out.

“Maybe, or maybe not,” he shrugged, “but it’s not them I'm worried about… The Pokecenter was invaded a few hours ago.”

“What!?” I knocked a tower of paper over, as I found myself leaning across the professor’s desk.

“Everyone is fine,” he waved me down, “They left once it became apparent you weren’t there.”

“Who?”

“We’re not sure. They were disguised, but I have my suspicions,” he scowled, “there aren’t many people with the ability and knowhow to bypass the center’s security. Especially without leaving any traces.”

The shot of adrenaline faded, and I collapsed into one of the office chairs as my knees turned to jelly. Sweat coated my hands, but I rested my face in them anyway.

“Why?” I mumbled, continuing my pattern of one word sentences.

“You aren't just a malignant prime, Laition,” Oak stood from his chair and walked around his desk to give my shoulder a comforting squeeze, “you’re a malignant anomaly.”

“What does that even mean!? I thought Corver and Daisy were just being assholes when they called me that.”

“Hey!” Daisy exclaimed and was promptly ignored.

“I’m not surprised you’ve never heard of it. There’s usually only a handful documented every year across all of Indigo. The statistical probability of two appearing in Pallet during the same ceremony… it’s astronomical.”

I was confused for a moment, but then remembered the other freak occurrence last night, “Ash?”

“Yes,” Oak nodded, “Mr. Ketchum is also an anomaly,” he released my shoulder and returned to his seat, “Anomalies, you see, are just as they sound; people who break the typing norm. Human shinies essentially, but you two are rather… anomalous even by anomaly standards.

“Most of the time, an individual just has an extra medium or high affinity. Rarely, it’s three primary affinities. The unlucky few may actually be missing one. I even heard of an unfortunate boy in Unova, several years ago, who didn’t have a prime. He is a particularly remarkable case as he seems to be able to interact with wild-”

Daisy snapped her fingers again.

“Anyway, Ash is remarkable in how far he breaks the norm,” Oak refocused, “the only anomaly even remotely similar to him is Cynthia.”

“Cynthia… as in Cynthia Shirona, the champion of Sinnoh?”

“The very same.”

“Ah… that explains things,” I’d always wondered how she had so many different typed pokemon at the master level. I’d just assumed she was some kind of super prodigy who had discovered a secret cultivation technique.

“Yes, Ash has a bright future if he follows her example,” Oak nodded, “Which brings us to part of why you’re so feared, Laiton… There is no example.”

“What do you mean?” I squinted in confusion.

“There has never been an anomaly even remotely similar to you,” The professor stared at me with almost a hungry look, “Somebody with one of the ethereal primes always has a second natural prime. And I mean always. There hasn’t even been a case of a mono ethereal prime, let alone dual.”

“So, what’s the big deal?”

“The ‘big deal’ is that before last night, we didn’t think it was possible,” the professor interlaced his fingers and rested his chin upon them, “Laiton, ethereal types aren’t designated such because they don’t follow the personality trifecta model. They’re literally otherworldly—pulled across dimensions—and while there are some Pokemon who’s souls can function predominantly on these unnatural sources, it was believed that a human couldn’t.

“Still, why is that concerning enough to want me dead!” I sounded a little whiny, but I thought it was justified.

“You don’t understand,” he shook his head, “you haven’t truly started cultivating. The ethereals are… intoxicating. As a dragon prime, I can tell you that it’s easy to get lost in it. Every moment I feel the draw, whispering for me to seize my goals and crush my opponents, but I resist with the passion of my fire prime.

“So, you see, without a natural type to ground you, people fear you’ll get lost to the whims of your ethereal energy… and with both of them being malignant-”

“They’ll be crazier than a bag of Meowth’s,” Daisy finished.

“Not helpful,” he gave his granddaughter an annoyed frown.

“Just calling it how I see it,” she shrugged.

“Is it really that concerning?” I ignored her, “Dark and ghost primes go crazy anyway. Maybe having a natural type doesn’t actually matter.”

“No, it really does. I’ll let you in on a little secret, Lation,” he leaned forward and continued with a stage whisper, “There are actually far more malignant primes around than you think.”

“What?”

“You see, when someone with a malignant prime is revealed, the league offers them a choice; live life normally with all the fear and persecution that can be expected… or make a psychic enforced oath.”

My eyes widened involuntarily. Psychic oaths were practically unheard of. It was nearly impossible to get government approval for one, and rightly so. They were truly impossible to break. Whatever you swore, you’d be held to, no matter what. In times past, they had been much more common, but modern society found them unethical and too easily abused.

“In the oath, they promise to never capture or train a Pokemon of the malignant type,” The professor explained, “In exchange, they are relocated and given a new identity where their natural primary affinity is the only one listed in their trainer profile. Thus, they become indistinguishable from anyone else, get to live normal lives, and the league doesn’t have to worry about any crazy schemes down the line.”

“And this works?”

“Yes. They don’t have the tendency for mental disorders like normal dark or ghost primes. There’s one or two living in Pallet, even.”

“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about it?”

“Because the league doesn’t want a wild malignant hunt whenever times get hard, so it’s left on a need to know basis,” Daisy answered, leaning on the wall behind me, “Speaking of, don’t tell anyone about this… or else.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it,” I ignored her threat with practiced ease, “So what does that mean for me?”

“I’d guess that the league will still offer you this deal,” the professor shrugged, “It’ll be a few days until a representative is sent out. They’ll give you a new identity in Johto, most likely. Though, you’ll have to renounce both of your primary affinities rather than only one. It’ll severely handicap any training,” he gave a sympathetic grimace.

“And the only other option is going on the run, and hope I don’t go crazy?” the reality of my situation was truly setting in.

“Well you could remain in Pallet, but I can’t protect you all the time,” Oak sighed, “Someone will slip by eventually.”

“Would they truly risk your wrath, just to get to me?” I was being a little presumptive there, Oak was a pacifist, but I was desperate.

“You don’t understand, Laiton. You weren’t in the war. The things Sydney did… Some wounds never heal,” the professor sighed, and for a moment he looked his actual age, “Agatha still has to deal with the occasional assassination attempt, even after all these years.”

Who was stupid enough to attack an elite four member?! That was completely idiotic at best, suicidal at worse. If people were willing to risk that…

“So, I stay here and die, run and get hunted down, or make an oath that essentially removes all hopes of becoming a master?” They weren’t good choices. Even if I took the league deal, I’d be saying goodbye to everything and everyone I loved.

“There’s a small chance one of the malignant clans will take you in, but I doubt it. Their secret methods would only work for one of your primary typings,” Daisy offered, pointlessly.

“You could potentially survive in the wilds,” the professor hesitantly added, “With the proper supplies and training, you could eke out a basic existence on the fringes of the routes. It’d be a hard life, but possible.”

“Just so long as the rangers don’t find you,” Daisy added.

“So I’m fucked,” I fully slumped in my chair. I’d have to take the oath. The wilderness was dangerous enough without having to hide from the military at the same time.

“Well… I don’t know about that,” The professor wore a smug smile. Ah, so Daisy and Gary got it from him.