Master

by NejinOniwa


Chapter 8 - Connect the Dots

Chapter 8 – Connect the dots

Samuel Oak, pokémon professor extraordinaire, was a big fan of sleeping in. His bedroom was in the upper floors of his laboratory, but this was the first time he slept here in quite a while; he had been very busy with his little radio stint recently, and though it was quite fun, he'd started to realize the impact it had on his research. So, he'd kindly told the director of Goldenrod Radio that he'd be heading back to Kanto for a while, and the director, being an understanding man, hadn't had any problems with it. He felt a bit bad for leaving Mary – heavens, that lass was wonderful – alone with the task, but he was quite sure she'd manage. Being a DJ was hardly much compared to her past accomplishments, after all.

His sweet morning sleep was rudely interrupted, however, by the loud beeping noise of the phone downstairs ringing. He was tempted to ignore it, but he was well aware that the only people who had the number to his lab were his fellow researchers and assistants; most likely this would be something rather important.

“I haven't heard from Rowan in a while,” he mumbled to himself as he sat up in his bed. “Some news from Sinnoh would be good for me, I think...” He stretched, yawning loudly, before finally getting out of bed and stepping into his slippers. “Kanto has been rather boring lately.” He left his sleeping hat on.

By the time he shuffled down the stairs, the call had already terminated, and he stared blearily at the machine, debating if it was worth it to go back to sleep. He didn't have to make that choice, however, as the phone once again sprang to life the next second, and with a tired grunt he accepted the call.

“Hey, Gramps!”

Oak smiled. This was better than Rowan; he hadn't heard from his grandson in quite a while. “Oh, Blue! Been a while since I heard from you! How is life in Viridian? Are you getting used to the responsibilities of a gym leader? Managed to land any nice girl yet?” he added jokingly, very well aware that family building wasn't anywhere near the first thing on Blue's mind. He'd expected some sort of response to the provocation, though, and when his grandson simply ignored it and went ahead he was a fair bit surprised.

“Nevermind that. I think I've discovered a new pokémon species.”

Oak's ears perked up.  “A new species? Here in Kanto? Well, grandson, this is a surprise. What type is it? Do you have any good images for it, that I can upload into the pokédex database? How about-” He didn't get further than that, though, before his grandson cut him off.

“Geez, gramps! Why do you always get so excited about this kinda thing? I said, I think. I haven't been able to get a clear view of it – it always stays just out of sight, laughing at me from wherever it's hiding. It seems to know exactly where the gym's security cameras are, too. I've glimpsed something bright pink on the monitors, once or twice, but it's an elusive creature, whatever it is.”

Seconds ago, Oak's hopes had been sky high – now, they came crashing down to the ground again, and the sleepy, cynical geezer part of him overtook the enthusiastic professor in a swift maneuver. He hadn't yet installed video transmitters on this phone – so far only the one in the lab was so equipped – but he still put on his most disapproving grandfatherly frown out of habit. “Blue, my boy...have you been experimenting with strange pills again? Or did you perhaps drink too much of a certain vividly green-colored liquor? Didn't I tell you-”

The boy on the other end of the line let out a frustrated groan, and terminated the call. Oak snorted – serves him right, waking me up this time of day for no reason – and stalked back upstairs, promptly slamming the door behind him and threw himself on the bed. Sleep did not wait long before claiming him again.

When he finally woke up again a few hours later, he felt greatly refreshed. He vaguely remembered the phone call from his grandson, but dismissed it from his memory – there was no reason to ruin a perfectly good morning with that sort of thing, now was there? – and let out a content yawn. Today, I think, is a good day to continue that study on pokémon usage in hazardous environments. He sauntered over to his computer, just to make sure nothing else was planned for today. Naturally there wasn't anything – after the whole stint with Goldenrod Radio, he was fairly good at schedules – but there were two unread mails in his inbox, his calendar told him. Slightly curious, he opened the mail client to see what they were about.

One, he archived right away. It was from Blue, and the subject read “Damnit gramps” – precisely the sort of thing he didn't want to deal with right now. If his favorite grandson was in fact in danger of acquiring a serious drug addiction, he would have something done about it, but not today – and definitely not in the morning.

The other, however, drew his interest. Violet City Gym – of all places in the world – was the sender, and the subject was, simply, “Urgent”. Curious, he clicked it open.

Dear Professor Oak, it read.

I have made a strange, unexpected discovery this morning. I like to think myself something of an authority in my own field – flying-type pokémon, I mean – but I'd prefer to speak to someone more knowledgeable and experienced in pokémon research about this. Please give me a call as soon as possible.

/Falkner, Gym Leader of Violet City

Oak's curiosity did not need much more to grasp at. He threw on his labcoat in a haste, and made his way off to the laboratory.

-/-/-/

Falkner's hunch had been right.

The pokémon he'd captured out in the field didn't exist in any of the databases of known species he'd checked; he'd even looked through incomplete databases from foreign regions like Hoenn just in case, without any result. Whatever this pokémon was, it was something new.

And in all honesty, once that much was clear to him Falkner had no idea of what he was supposed to do with it. There were proper authorities on matters like this in the region, and Falkner was definitely not one of them. He was a trainer and gym leader, not a researcher! So without further ado, he had decided to contact the one researcher he knew by name – well, fame, mostly – and who by all virtues should be qualified enough to figure out a proper course of action. The man had written and compiled most of the data for the modern Pokédex system, after all. How could he possibly not be?

And yet, Falkner hesitated, fingering with the console of his videophone. Unlike the simple line of text of his mail client, beside Professor Oak's name in the number list was a small image of the man. He was wearing a white labcoat and a big smile that wrinkled his already lined face further, but even so it managed to make him look decidedly much softer than he'd expected. It wasn't an image he was used to seeing. Not because he was unfamiliar with the man; rather the direct opposite. Instead of the carefree white-haired scientist he saw in the viewscreen, his own mental image of Samuel Oak was the one he'd memorized from his youth; a brown-haired, tan figure in a very utilitarian outfit, wearing a serious, thoughtful expression.

Not that he'd ever seen him that way, of course – in fact, he'd never seen the man in the flesh at all. But he was there, just so, on the old, faded picture that Falkner had from his father's inauguration as a Gym Leader. It'd been taken some twenty years ago, before Falkner had even been born, but he'd spent untold hours looking at it as a young impressionable boy, memorizing every little detail. Even so, he couldn't help but produce the faded frame from his desk and place it just beside the viewscreen. Comparing them side by side that way felt...right, somehow.

His father Walker stood with a nervous smile on his youthful face, sharing a cautious fist-bump with a considerably slimmer and less balding Chuck. Pryce wasn't all that different, except that his cane was missing, and his hair was a paling blonde instead of white all through.

The younger crop of Johto's current gymleaders shone with their absence in the picture as well. Kurt, the old ball-maker of Azalea, stood in Bugsy's place with a big smirk on his face and none of the age-curved back he had now. Jasmine's replacement was Preston, the old grim of the Lighthouse; and though the resemblance was uncanny enough that an untrained eye might have thought it was the same person, it was in fact Goldenrod's resident radio girl Mary that filled Whitney's spot.

Perhaps even more surprising were the Blackthorn and Ecruteak gym leaders. In Morty's place stood a beautiful, motherly blonde in a crimson dress. He wouldn't have minded, if not for one little detail – namely the little line of text identifying her as Agatha, past and future haunting hag of the Elite Four. The circumstances of the thing were rather humorous; she had lost a bet against the Champion, and been forced to serve as temporary Gym Leader AND mentor to Morty, until the young prodigy grew old and skilled enough to take over the post. From what he'd heard from the student himself, she had been a rather ruthless teacher, with a fearsome temper – and from what he'd heard from the other Elite Four members recently, nobody knew or wanted to know why she'd disappeared two years ago, or why. If her reputation was even remotely close to well-deserved, there probably wasn't anyone who did at all.

In place of Clair stood – on a chair – a short, freckled redhead boy. Dressed in all black and a cape that was way too long for him, wearing the best stone-faced expression he could manage – which, with him being barely ten years old at the time, wasn't saying much – Lance tried, as always, to make up for his companions' silly behavior. There had been plenty of opposition around the country to the Dragon Clan's appointment of a gym leader who wasn't even old enough to be allowed to compete in official League matches; until Lance had started absolutely facerolling every single opponent who dared challenge him, that was. The Dragon Clan's sages had foretold his rise to greatness from a very early age, and Falkner had to admit that their predictions had been quite accurate. Lance had come very close to breaking the League record of longest undefeated streak as a champion set by his predecessor, and only said predecessor's grandson managing to score a timely victory against him had prevented that.

In the middle of the rambunctious crowd stood, as a single pillar of stoic determination, Samuel Oak. Even to this day the Elite Four seldom spent much time on official duties, but the Champion had always been the League's poster face. So there he was, a sore thumb of seriousness in the gym leaders' merriment; an oak among willows in the wind.

He'd always thought that name was very fitting for him, and always thought the old champion was the one man he'd turn to if he ever needed help with something far beyond his own power. Now, he looked at the soft, carefree face in the viewscreen, and he couldn't help but fell a certain measure of doubt.

Could this man really be as helpful as he hoped he could?

However, it didn't take too many moments for Falkner to realize that his options, outside of the one he was looking at right now, were rather limited. Besides, no harm would come from trying, right?

At that moment, the choice was taken from him, as the videophone burst to life with an incoming call. Well, I did ask him to call, I suppose, Falkner thought with a sigh. Quelling his doubts best he could, he shook his head and accepted the call.

-/-/-/

Mmnh...

A dull ache was the first thing that penetrated the placid space – like someone throwing a rock into a pond, the world rippled in its wake and stirred up whirls and eddies of brief activity. Much too brief to live any longer, though; within moments they were gone, and everything was once more a uniform world of nothingness.

I...

Stray thoughts milled about carelessly. With the ripples past, calm and contained ruled like the mirror of the sea after days of lull; and were just as easily chased away when the first breezes came along.

What's...going on? Where am I?

The thoughts echoed across the empty space like shouts from a dragon's mouth, and the consciousness of Rainbow Dash – of course that was who she was – recoiled inwards. As if on cue with that realization, the world faded into a formless sea of red, and everything felt like it was shrinking. With her identity reclaimed, an instinct ingrained in the backbone of every pegasus flared up like a massive beacon in the tiny space, filling it to the brim.

Claustrophobia.

I'm trapped! I can't see the sky! I'm locked in! I need to get out!

She pushed, pushed, and pushed, ramming herself against every edge of her tiny prison faster and faster and faster until the world inside a world she was trapped in seemed like a single, red smear on her retinas.

I – need – too – get – OUT!

Something broke. The world flooded outwards, and she saw a brilliant, crimson light.

-/-/-/

“This is quite extraordinary, young man,” Oak said through the terminal. “While of course there might be countless species yet to be discovered in the less civilized regions of the world, I always believed we had successfully managed to map the Kanto-Johto native pokémon to completion. There is no data whatsoever in the pokédex on this kind of creature – not even in legends or speculative research.”

Well that's not going to help me very much, is it, Falkner fumed inside. However, he tried to keep his face as calm as possible as he spoke to the Champion turned scientist. “That was what I thought as well, considering I like to keep track of all discovered flying-types as well as I possibly can. But what do you suppose I should do with it? And what about the rest of its population?”

Oak sighed, shaking his head. “There's not really a standard procedure for this sort of thing, unfortunately. Most local species have been more or less known for hundreds of years, and even some of the more migratory of foreign variants have been well documented for some time. The Pokédex project mainly has served to standardize our data on them; as far as discovery of new species goes, there's really only one example in modern times to fall back on. Or, well, two, depending on if you count Mewtwo as a separate type from its genetic progenitor Mew, which seems to be the consensus among most researchers.”

A chill entered Falkner's body and went right through his bones at the mention of that name. The Cerulean Incident and its perpetrator was not an old memory, and the powerlessness he had felt when faced with Mewtwo's might wasn't something he was likely to forget. Sure, he was stronger now, but hardly enough judging by how easily he'd been defeated by this, this...

What am I supposed to call it, anyway?

That was actually a valid question, now that he thought about it. He had been the one to discover it – thus he would get the rights to officially name the creature's species, no?

He was about to ask, but Oak had again taken advantage of his momentary hesitation and was forging on once more. “For certain, cloning is likely a rather bad idea in this case. Not that I would ever recommend it in any case at all, but still...”

He scratched his chin, before shaking his head. “You could attempt to breed the creature, of course – presuming it is indeed a female, as the data implies – though that would require you to properly train it first, and never mind finding a potential mate for it. Cross-species compatibility isn't very straightforward sometimes, and we don't have much of a clue of where we could find any others of its kind yet. I suppose that could be a first course of action. Train it, and see if you can get it to lead you to its nest. However, do not put it in all too much danger – ensuring the safety of the present population is vital for a situation like this, as well as making sure we don't get another, hrm, incident. Ah, of course, you have your gym leader duties as well, but...”

Oak dropped his sentence midway to stop and think, and frustration welled inside Falkner once again. Are all old people this slow? Before he could get any further, though, Oak raised a questioning finger. “Is that noise from your end or mine, Falkner? Did I leave the toaster on again...? No, that can't be it...”

Falkner frowned, wondering what the man was talking about – when he actually listened, however, he heard it. A shrill, insistent beep-beep-beep was sounding through the air, and with the youthful gift of unimpaired hearing he could easily determine it came from his side of the call. More precisely, the training prep room just behind him, where he had the new pokémon hooked up to a vitality scanner through its ball.

At least, it should have been inside its ball. From the sound of the insistent beeping, however, the overload alarm was being triggered – in which case there was a strong likelihood of that not being the case anymore.

As if on cue, just as he turned around to attend to the problem the distinct sound of a pokéball opening – being forced open – went through the air, and a blue blur swept by him at an impossible speed, leaving a brief rainbow trail in its wake.

And of course, this hadn't escaped Oak, either. Especially not since he was still receiving the – now empty – results from the scanner. “You used a standard ball, didn't you?” Falkner cursed, and spun around to run back to the prep room to gather his pokéballs; as well as the fugitive's vacant one. Oak's voice echoed through the room as he tore the machines open to retrieve his pokémon. “Do an aerial search! The scanner indicated it's part electric-type, so if you have any equipment for that, you might be able to track it! The rainbow contrail is probably some sort of electromagnetic field disruption – follow it if you can! You might find its nest if you can catch it a second time!”

The rest of the old ex-Champion's words were lost to the wind, as he rushed out of the front door and summoned Pidgeot from its ball. It hadn't had too much rest, but there wasn't time for that; and there wouldn't be much point in using it to battle either, seeing the results from last time. It would have to do.

“Pidgeot, Fly!” Still running as the pokémon materialized, he hopped onto its back the second it turned from a mesh of red light into an enormous bird. As they tore into the air he caught sight of the vanishing rainbow in the distance, but it was vanishing far too fast for him to be able to follow it, even with Pidgeot. Oak's words echoed – there was a time and place for everything, and while he didn't have any scanners to use here, he did have his own spin on how to hunt elusive prey.

“Natu, Murkrow! Use Pursuit through Future Sight!” His two smaller team members struggled somewhat to keep up with Pidgeot's speed, but Murkrow managed to get going after a few seconds, whereas Natu simply resolved to sitting on Falkner's head.

Combining the abilities of pokémon like this wasn't by any means very reliable, and very hard to pull off in the first place – he hadn't trained the pair too much for this, and it was a far cry from anything a proper piece of technology could manage. But again, he didn't have much choice at the moment. It would simply have to do.