To watch an Old World Burn
“There’s a call for you, boss.”
At the call, the sound of thuds and grunts were replaced by panting as a sweaty Hitmonchan and man backed away from one another, the latter turning to look toward the doorway where stood the assistant who’d interrupted. Both wore padded training gear that covered the stomach, chest and head to prevent injury.
The man nodded to show he’d heard, before turning to look at the group of similarly dressed people and human-like Pokèmon that surrounded the slightly raised ring and steadying his breathing before saying, “Right then, I’d like all of you to partner up and practise punching. Keep it fast, keep it light, keep your defence up and most importantly keep an eye on everyone near you; I don’t like dealing with insurance claims just because someone tripped and K.O’d the person or Pokèmon nearby.”
The group showed various levels of assent before spreading out around the room, each ensuring there was enough space between pairs. The staff inside helped organise it all. While this was happening, the man made his way to the attendant, removing the helmet and asking, “What’s it about?” His reply was received with a sigh.
“School, seemed urgent.”
Dragging a hand down his face, Chester decided he hated today regardless of how smoothly work had been so far. As he began sliding the training gear off, having given the helmet to Vic, the sounds of gloved fists hitting padding grew in both speed and noise behind him.
“Grab a fresh set and take over for me, I’m gonna be a while,” Chester said as he handed the protective gear to the attendant. As he began to pass his boss, Chester laid a hand on Vic’s shoulder. “Remember; these are clients. They are not here to be wooed.” A steadily crushing squeeze from his fingers caused Vic to wince, both from the pressure and how pissed Chester was last time. A glance at his eyes and Vic barely held back a shiver at how dark they looked. “Understand?”
After a quick series of nods, Chester released Vic’s shoulder before clapping it with, “Good.” Paying no more attention to the worker, Chester strode out of the room and towards his office which was located past the staffroom.
When he reached the staffroom, he pulled the gray, short-sleeved shirt off and dropped it into the laundry bag as he passed it. Walking into his office, he sprayed himself with a nearby can of deodorant to neutralise the stink of sweat and grabbed his PokèRing. Clipping the carabiner onto a belt loop, he quickly attached five shrunken, empty Pokèballs to the attached hooks and let it hang off the right side of his body. Sweeping a black button-up shirt, that had been laid over the back of his chair, through the air he slid his arms in and tugged it into his lean body. A satchel was clipped securely around his waist. Lastly, he grabbed what looked to be an elliptical shaped skateboard, a harness and two cords before leaving his office, closing the door and taking a sign, reading ‘Working’, down and replacing it with a sign that read ‘Out’ which had sat in a large envelope.
A few minutes later saw Chester walking through the front entrance of the gym, having collected his Pokèmon from the spacious indoor playroom, a Quilava laid across his shoulders. Raising a hand at the goodbyes of the two greeters, Chester stepped, squinting at the sudden change of brightness, out into the technological amazement known as LaRousse City. Laying the deceptively-light board on its wheels, Chester plucked a Pokèball off the ring, enlarged it with the press of a button and released a curling burst of light that revealed a Tauros, the bull Pokèmon pawing at the ground while releasing an explosive snort.
“Hey, Rock,” Chester said as he began strapping the harness securely around the chest and shoulders of the Pokèmon, “Got another call from the school again, figured that you’d be up for a run.” The Tauros’ lips turned up into a tiny smirk that dropped immediately, “Provided you don’t get us lost on a shortcut again.” The harness, secure and comfortable, then had the two cords attached; the ends of which Chester still held.
Stepping onto the board, Chester bent his legs to lower his gravity while drawing out a glasses case, in which sat a pair of aviators that soon found their way nestled over his eyes. Wrapping both cords securely around his hands, Chester gave the waiting Rock the signal; “Let’s go, and don’t crash us through a building this time.”
The Tauros started off slowly, allowing the cords to draw taught between Trainer and Pokèmon, before increasing his pace steadily. In no time, they were speeding along at a reasonable pace; something that had taken Chester an extremely long time to train into the bull.
Thankfully, most people and Pokèmon of LaRousse used the walkways anyway.
“… You’re kidding me, right?”
Principal Jane Beatrice of LaRousse Academy was confused by Chester’s disbelief; almost like it was a minor issue. That same confusion was the latter’s answer to his question. With an aggravated sigh, Chester turned to his adopted daughter, Lisanna Pierce, and simply said, “Wait outside.”
Once the twelve-year-old had closed the door behind her Chester dropped heavily into a chair, rubbing his brow in irritation. Dropping his hand to his knees, he stared at the middle-aged woman before him with half-lidded eyes as he began, “Y’know, when I get a call from the school, it’s generally somethin’ serious, like she’s disrespected a teacher, or done some stupid stunt, or gotten into a fight.” That girl did not like being insulted…
“And I can handle that. I can lecture her on being disrespectful; I can fix up any scrapes from trying to jump between roofs; Hell, I know why she gets into fights.
But when I get here, I find my daughter looking as well as she did this morning, there’s no pissed off teacher trying to bend my ear over her behaviour. Instead, I find you called me here on to tell me that she may be possibly considering Pokèphilia?!” His voice had grown slightly louder towards the end of his rant, displaying just how aggravated he truly was; the most fearsome kind of anger, after all, is one well controlled.
“Quil,” the Quilava, Pyrros, quietly rasped, and Chester calmed himself immediately with an exhale before asking,
“And just what, pray tell, is this evidence that she’s considering Pokèphilia?” Like any other time he uttered it, the word left a sickening taste in his mouth. What the other lady didn’t know, however, wouldn't hurt him.
“She disrupted the class by pointing out various ‘similarities’ between humans and Pokèmon, and refused to listen to logical reasoning,” she stated quite calmly, and not a little nervously; she, after all, knew who was sitting before her, and had agreed to keep his identity as much a secret as possible.
“That reasoning being…?” the rhetorical question containing an almost venomous level of sarcasm, before speaking over the Principal, “They aren't human.” Shaking his head while she attempted to pursue the argument, he stood up and walked to the door, displaying that the matter was closed.
“Are you a supporter, then?”
Hand on the doorknob, Chester turned back to Principal Beatrice with a deadpan expression, “I couldn’t care less if people loved their Pokèmon that way or not.” Opening the door, he walked through and closed it with a firm thud.
“Why do you do this to me, kiddo?” Chester complained as he and Rock, whom had Lisanna sitting on his back along with the board, stepped off the red-coloured express line that traversed LaRousse City some time later.
“But it’s true! Some Pokèmon could be easily mistaken for humans, saying nothing of the fact that Pokèmon have feelings,” Lisanna argued pointlessly; she knew that he knew what she was talking about. “So why it so wrong to argue –“You've been listening to Sandra a little too much,” Chester interrupted irritably; their discussion was starting to draw attention from others. If he could just forestall this until they got into the house, which was just around the corner –
“Oh, what now?!”
The question was snarled as the front of the modest two-story house, which rested in a less-technologically advanced area than the rest of LaRousse, was currently host to a few police cars with about ten officers seemingly aiming to break in. As such, he missed the shadowy figure that lurked nearby.
“Lisanna, let me deal with this.”
Striding towards his house, Rock in tow, Chester was quickly noticed by two of the present officers who moved to intercept him while the rest kept working on getting inside.
“Senior Constable Jones, and Junior Constable Nancy. Sir, are you the owner of this house?” The taller of the two asked, flashing a badge as he spoke.
“Yes, I am. Mind explaining what you’re doing?” By now, Pyrros was actively watching events unfold while keeping an eye on his Trainer, who seem a little too calm for the Fire-type’s liking.
“We know you’re harbouring a Pokèphile, so give her up or you'll be charged with aiding and abetting!” declared Nancy, even going so far as to shove a finger into Chester’s face. It was quickly retracted in fear as a dangerous look flitted through the latter’s eyes. Meanwhile, the team had successfully got the front door opened and were about to search the premises…
If not for the two fireballs radiating heat pointed at them.
“Reach, hold,” Chester absent-mindedly called out just loud enough for the Magmortar to refrain from firing, the heat from the two fireballs clenched in its cannon-like arms keeping the nervous officers at bay. Seeing this, the two officers pulled out Pokèballs, ready for a fight. The shadowy figure grinned delightedly.
“Sir, you are standing in the way of our jobs. Please ask your Pokèmon to stand down or we will have to arrest you.” The senior warned.
“What evidence do you have of a Pokèphile living in my house?” Chester asked coolly.
“This!” With great(ly unnecessary) flair, the junior officer pulled out a photo before displaying it to Chester. It showed a steamy outdoors hot-spring in the late afternoon, judging by the deep red of the clouds, with stone effigies of Rayquaza, Groudon and Kyogre standing sentinel. Through the haze, one could see a Tyranitar sitting in the water.
With a young woman, naked, pressed against it in a stretch. There were two details that stood out though.
“If this is Pokèphilia, then why is my tenant holding a sponge?”
Both officers blinked before looking at the photo themselves, though Nancy was the one to recover, “Obviously to cover up this perverted act!”
There’s one in every friggin’ town, I swear, Chester thought, before asking, “What I’m curious about is how this picture was taken,” And here he gestured to the wall that surrounded the back half of his house, along with the sign clearly stating ‘No Trespassers’, “given that I have, legally, made it quite clear that I don’t want people in my backyard.”
Constable Jones looked rather tired now; being a Senior Constable, he was familiar with cases like this in this area, and also had to deal with the complaints they’d all yielded. As he was about to call his squad back to headquarters, though, Nancy didn’t relent as she snatched the photo back, saying, “Well, we’re still gonna search your house anyway!” With that, she turned around and started to stomp towards Chester’s home. Though, the next thing that she heard put her brakes on quick;
“Where’s your search warrant?”
Jones, seeing the embarrassed flush that his partner was showing, sighed in relief while thanking Arceus that they hadn’t gone against protocol before being stopped. Raising his voice, he called, “Alright team, back to HQ. I’ll handle things here.” The officers were only too quick to respond as they moved quickly to the cars, hopped in and drove off. The fireballs retracted back into the Blast Pokèmon’s arms as it watched.
Pulling the still embarrassed Nancy with him, Jones apologised to Chester before walking down the street, chastising her for forgetting procedure, to have a chat with a rather nosy woman whom called the police constantly with reports.
Glad that the whole thing was over and done with, Chester, Rock and Lisanna went to enter the house before pausing as a voice called out, “Well done, Chazzy, good to see you haven’t lost ya flair!”
Turning to eye the approaching man, Chester coldly asked, “What do you want, Ivan?”
“Why, Chazzy, how can you be so cruel to a friend? And after all the trouble I went through to find you,” Ivan gasped in fake shock, laying a hand theatrically on his suited chest. Both Chester’s and Pyrros’ eyes narrowed as he wordlessly sent Rock to take a curious Lisanna into the house, the Magmortar passing them as it walked to stand by Chester. “So who was the squirt? A protégé, babysittee, or,” Ivan’s eyes twinkled, “maybe your own kid? Does she know her old man’s the big bad Co -?”
Chester’s fist slammed into Ivan’s gut, causing the other man to sink to his hands and knees winded.
“Deal with him, Reach.” Something about the tone in those four words chilled Ivan to the core.
Forcing his head up, Ivan came face to face with the open end of the Magmortar’s cannon arm, while Chester was walking away.
And it was glowing.
As Chester passed the door into the entrance hall of his house, he heard the satisfying sound of muted explosions. Pyrros jumped down and darted in front of Chester before the latter could go too far, sitting back on his haunches and staring up at his Trainer.
“You almost lost it,” Pyrros bluntly stated.
“I know.”
“Three times today, seventh time this week. And it started only two days ago.”
Chester breathed in, held it and released a sigh.
“I know.”
Just then, Reach stomped through the door, closing it behind him. “Dealt with him, boss.”
“Thanks, Reach.”
Rumpling his hair, Chester thought of everything that had happened today, and decided something aloud; “Fuck this, I’m takin’ a nap. Wake me at dinner.” He then strode out of the entrance hall and up the stairs, out of sight.
Pyrros sighed despondently, looking up at Reach. “He’s not getting better, is he Ex.?” the larger Pokèmon asked quietly. The Quilava shook his head tiredly, responding with, “If anything, he’s stalling the worst case scenario we came up with all those years ago.”
Just then, the front door opened to reveal a familiar young woman holding a few grocery bags, along with a Glameow and a Purrloin. Seeing the emotional state both Pokèmon were in, Sandra asked, “Something up? Oh, and someone’s been lighting the road outside on fire.”
That night found Lisanna on the roof of the house, hugging her Yamask to her as she ignored the slight chill. Chester and Sandra had both talked to her about what had happened at school during dinner, with explanations as to why she had to keep it to herself for the moment. As Sandra put it, “Being known as a Pokèphile will make it hard for you to do what you want, as most people won’t agree.”
As Chester had said while they’d washed the dishes, “Get stronger, get a few Badges under your belt, then announce yourself as a supporter.”
Lisanna sighed before looking at her Yamask, a question in her eyes. The Ghost nodded and allowed her pseudo-Trainer to place the mask she held over her face. Closing her eyes and focusing, an image of a beautiful, tanned woman with black hair, wearing a lengthy dress of cotton and a line of kohl under her amber eyes appeared facing her on the roof, sitting with her legs to the side. The only thing that was strange was the light blue glow surrounding her, the same that shone through the narrow slits in the mask’s eye markings and haloing the Yamask’s.
“You’re getting better.”
Chester’s sudden voice off to the side startled her into opening her eyes, though the illusion before her only flickered slightly before regaining its shape. The illusion smiled as the Yamask turned to regard her Trainer, warm pride in the Pokèmon’s eyes.
“Indeed she has,” Lilis softly spoke, the illusion mouthing the same words, “Though I cannot wait until the time as when her powers flourish to match her potential.”
“You, me, and the rest of this family, Lil,” Chester said in a light tone, “But she still has to get some rest; you have a test tomorrow, remember? Not to mention it’s your curfew.” The illusion faded away as he spoke, the last things to vanish being her amber eyes.
“Yeah, I’m coming,” Lisanna said in mock exasperation as she stood up. However, when she did she felt much more tired than she expected. She took a single step before weariness overcame her and she collapsed where she stood, rolling towards the edge of the house.
“LISANNA!” Lilis shrieked as she watched her friend approach the roof at a steadily increasing pace. All too late she began to race for the girl who was to be her Trainer.
Chester, who’d turned to head down the stairwell he’d built some years back to avoid ladders, snapped his head around at the Yamask’s scream just as his daughter reached the lip of the roof. Spinning around he sprinted for the lip before diving a few feet away, barely clipping the edge with his toes as he grabbed Lisanna in a tackling hug. Positioning his body in midair so as to take the brunt of the fall himself he slammed back-first onto the ground, driving the air in his lungs out.
“Oh Arceus, are you two alright?!” Barely able to see past the fogginess that clouded his sight, Chester could barely make out the form of Sandra above him. “Mira and Jane heard Lilis scream, we thought… something…”
A thud, followed by a few more, signalled that Sandra, as well as some of the Pokèmon, had fallen to the ground; whether in shock or something else, he couldn’t tell.
All of a sudden, however, his eyelids grew heavier as exhaustion dulled the ache in his body. Combined with what was most likely a concussion, Chester soon succumbed to unconsciousness.
Before he did, however, he could’ve sworn he heard a… the only proper word would be godly, his shutting brain mused, voice say,
“Rest now my children, for when you awake a whole new world shall be your home.”