Pokémon : An Unexpected Odyssey

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•••••••••••••••••

Austin let out a long sigh as he gazed up at the night sky. Team Rocket had turned Mt. Moon into a fortress of danger; it was a death trap for the uninitiated. At times like these, his extensive knowledge of Pokémon, his so-called "Fountain of Useless Knowledge," really came in handy.

He was just a kid when he played Pokémon Red, his first dive into the world of Pokémon. It had sparked an obsession, a thirst for every shred of trivia about this universe. His brother used to tease him for it, but who was laughing now?

The entrance to Mt. Moon loomed ahead, a menacing maw in the mountainside, surrounded by jagged rocks reaching up like claws to the heavens. Sparse tufts of tough grass clung to the soil at the rocky base.

Austin spotted Pokémon rangers at the entrance. Or more accurately, Team Rocket grunts in a poor disguise. One had an Arcanine by his side, looking like he smelled something vile.

They really must want Vee back, he thought, noticing a flicker of confusion on the nearest grunt's face.

And why wouldn't they be confused? There he was, draped in a bedsheet that dragged along the dirt. It was ridiculous, really. Underneath, he was on makeshift stilts made of Rattata and Spearow—who he had bribed with belly rubs and chia seeds to agree to this. He even threw on a Team Rocket uniform over his clothes to look bigger, older.

Austin knew this disguise was terrible.

But it didn't have to be perfect—it just had to get him into the mountain.

So, how was he going to pull this off? Simple. He'd spew bullshit—with all the confidence of a politician.

That was Plan A.

If it failed, Plan A2 was ready to go: attack and dash straight into the mountain's depths.

'Please, Arceus, let Plan A work,' he thought. He'd rather not have Team Rocket know that he was here.

"Why is your Pokémon out?" the grunt demanded, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes as he stared at the Zubat circling Austin. Its distinguishing large fangs suggested it was male—a detail Austin noted absently as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

"Safety," Austin responded, trying to deepen his voice to a convincing grunt, hoping it masked the rapid thumping in his chest as he edged closer to the group.

"And the bedsheet?"

"I fell down," he said, adopting a casual shrug that belied the mounting panic inside. "Into something... unpleasant."

"What?" The grunt's confusion was almost comical.

"Well, Executive Arianna issued an order to capture Pikachu and Spearow," Austin started. "And while I was chasing them, I kinda accidentally fell into a pile of feces." He lifted his sleeve, still carrying the pungent odor of his desperate ploy.

The grunt recoiled instantly, the authenticity of the smell doing more to convince him than any words could. Inside, Austin was cringing at the lengths he'd gone to for this plan.

"And the mask?" the grunt questioned further, skepticism still lining his features.

"Smell," Austin replied sharply, with no hesitation.

"Right..." the grunt dragged out the word, glancing back at his comrades who merely shrugged, apparently satisfied with Austin's explanations. They relaxed slightly, and Austin felt a fleeting sense of relief.

"Ahum... what are you doing here and who is your leader?"

Austin paused for a heartbeat, then fished an ID card from his pocket, flashing it briefly. "I completed Mrs. Arianna's mission," he said plainly, injecting a touch of weariness into his voice as if he'd just returned from a long, taxing assignment.

"Oh," murmured the rest of the grunts.

Seizing the moment, Austin pressed down with his feet, signaling Rattata and Spearow to start moving.

The other grunts exchanged quick, uncertain frowns but chose not to press further. They knew the hierarchy within Team Rocket well enough. If this grunt had indeed completed a mission for an executive like Arianna, a promotion might be in the works. It was best not to antagonize someone who could potentially rise in the ranks.

'Balance, balance, balance,' Austin thought, focusing hard on maintaining his awkward gait. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the grunts speaking into a handie talkie. A surge of panic washed over him.

Did I get caught?

But he couldn't let that thought derail him. Whether he was caught or not, he had to keep moving. Austin pressed on, entering the gaping maw of Mt. Moon. The entrance was as foreboding as ever—a dark, jagged tunnel burrowing deep into the heart of the mountain. Shadows clung to the uneven walls, and a cool, musty air wafted out.

Now onto plan B, Austin thought grimly as he stepped deeper into the darkness. Whatever lay ahead, he was ready—or at least, he had to believe he was. 

Austin was acutely aware of the labyrinthine nature of Mt. Moon's tunnels. There was the main trail, open to the public, and then there were the natural tunnels—veins that branched off into expansive cave systems, homes to various Pokémon colonies. Pokémon rangers typically kept the uninitiated from straying into these areas.

The dangers were real; stumbling into a Pokémon colony could be fatal if hundreds decided you were a threat.

The public tunnels, where most trainers dared to tread, were lit by electric lanterns that cast long, eerie shadows against the rough stone walls. It was here that Team Rocket carried out their nefarious activities. Their operation was simple: fake rangers stationed outside would greet trainers warmly, then relay information to other Team Rocket members hidden inside who would ambush the unsuspecting trainers.

But Austin's path lay through the natural tunnels. These uncharted routes were key to his plan to navigate through Mt. Moon and execute his revenge. And that's where Zubat came in—its echolocation was perfect for navigating the dark, unoccupied passages.

With a deep breath, he continued his cautious advance. He wondered if Team Rocket was after the Clefairy tribe in Mt. Moon at this moment. Would I encounter Jessie and James here?

However, his thoughts were abruptly cut short. His steps halted as his eyes landed on a startling sight—a destroyed red convertible. It was unmistakably Gary's. His heart skipped a beat.

"Oh no!"

Before he could fully process this unnerving discovery, a voice cut through the silence of the tunnel. He froze, every muscle tensing.

"Hey there, buddy."

The voice spun Austin around quicker than a Rapidash in a race. There before him was an older Team Rocket member, sauntering towards him with a confidence that made his skin crawl. He was in his late 30s, sporting a disarming smile that somehow didn't quite reach his eyes, which seemed to size him up and dismiss him all in the same glance.

Beneath the oversized bedsheet, Austin could feel Spearow and Rattata shifting nervously. The small movements caused him to sway slightly under his weight.

"I just want to talk," the man said, his voice smooth, almost rehearsed.

"What?"

"No need to be so antagonistic," the man replied, his smile unwavering. "I heard from a couple of friends that you finished that bitch's mission."

His choice of words caught the boy off guard, but he masked his reaction.

"Get to it."

"Well, I was thinking about how we can split the rewards, and in return, I can get you in contact with the other captains," he proposed, his smile now slick and calculating.

"Are you alone? Better yet, why should I do that?" Austin's voice held a hint of suspicion, mirroring the tension that gripped his body. Was this some kind of tactic? That grunt at the entrance... Could this be a test? Was he found out? Are Team Rocket after him?

"Of course, just you and me, buddy. I think you should listen to me," the man said, his tone dipping into a threatening register as he casually flipped a Pokéball in his hand, revealing a glimpse of a sleeping Rhydon through its translucent surface.

So, this guy was the link in this chain. The grunt's message at the entrance must have been directed at his Team Rocket captain, informing him that someone had completed Arianna's mission.

Now all this asshole needs is to take the credit for someone else's hard work and easily get into an executive's good graces and maybe get a promotion.

"Sure," Austin replied, understanding the thinly veiled threat. The Team Rocket captain's smile widened, thinking he had him cornered, but little did he know, Austin had his own ace up his sleeve. As the man's attention momentarily drifted to scan their surroundings, Austin reached into his backpack with feigned casualness.

He pulled out a thermos, fingers brushing against the cool metal.

"What's that?"

"It's where I hide the Pokéballs for the Pokémon the executive was looking for," Austin said, managing to keep his face expressionless despite the adrenaline rushing through him.

"Smart," the man commented, though Austin could see the confusion in his eyes as he peered into the thermos and saw nothing but water.

"What—" he began, but he didn't get to finish his question. Austin seized the moment and splashed the water right in his face.

In an instant, the water seemed almost sentient, clinging to his features, creeping into his mouth and nostrils like a suffocating mask.

The man sputtered and choked, his hands clawing at his face in a desperate attempt to clear the invasive liquid. Austin watched, almost detached, as panic flared briefly in his eyes.

As the man managed a ragged gasp for air, Austin didn't hesitate. His hand found the taser gun hidden in his pocket, and he pressed it against the soaked shirt, activating it. A harsh buzz filled the air as electricity surged through him. His body jerked wildly, muscles contracting beyond his control. With a final convulsive shudder, he collapsed onto the damp tunnel floor, limbs still twitching from the shock.

As he lay there, incapacitated, the water began to move again. This time, however, it moved with purpose and coherence, shimmering as it solidified into the form of a Vaporeon.

Austin's heart pounded fiercely against his ribs, a wild drum echoing the rush of adrenaline surging through his veins. His hands trembled uncontrollably, the aftermath of the high stakes confrontation causing his fingers to quiver like leaves in a storm.

"Night night," Austin whispered, more to steady his own nerves than for the man's benefit. He raised his foot and brought it down sharply, ensuring the man wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

Austin wasted no time after the confrontation; he swiftly tore off the dirty bedsheet, shaking it out as he leaped away. Underneath, Spearow and Rattata quickly stretched their limbs. "Good job, you two. Take a good rest before we get our rematch against that woman." Spearow opened his beak to squawk but Austin swiftly returned him to his Pokéball.

Rattata began her charade—her tiny paws flailing wildly as she mimicked a shocked and outraged expression. She hunched her back dramatically, then spun around in a comical display of indignation. Pretending to puff up her chest, she marched back and forth with exaggerated huffs, clearly imitating Spearow's likely reaction to being returned prematurely. "He can use that anger against Arianna." Rattata nodded at that.

After a moment, Austin returned her as well, her tiny body disappearing into the flash of red light. "Come on, help me drag this guy," he directed at Vaporeon. Together, they hauled the unconscious Team Rocket member behind a small cave, effectively hiding him from any prying eyes that might wander off the main path.

Austin quickly stripped the man of his high-quality Team Rocket uniform, methodically collecting his Pokéballs and any other valuables, stuffing them into his backpack with a satisfying rustle. To the victor go the spoils.

Once he had taken everything of value, he turned his attention to a Zubat that hovered uncertainly nearby. "Remember, these people have captured your beloved trainer, so let's hurry up and save him," he told the Zubat. The blind Pokémon bobbed in the air.

The small Pokémon's sonar was remarkably effective, allowing Austin to detect and sneak up on lone Team Rocket grunts.

••••••••••••••••• 

It had been days, Amanda guessed... she didn't even know how many since they were captured. Each day blended into the next in a haze of misery and despair inside the dimly lit, makeshift jail at the back of what used to be a Ranger's storage room in Mt. Moon. Now, it was nothing more than a dungeon, commandeered by Team Rocket and converted into a grim holding cell for them—trainers who had been unlucky enough to cross their path.

The room was always dim, the only light provided by a flickering bulb that hung from the ceiling, casting long shadows that seemed to dance on the walls. The cages they were kept in were crude constructions of rusting iron bars, each one a small, personal hell that held two or three of them.

Every day was a battle against the overwhelming hunger and thirst that gnawed at them. Their captors, if they remembered, threw in scraps of food—more often bones than bread—and sometimes water that was more mud than liquid. They were all losing weight, their faces becoming gaunter by the day, their eyes hollow from hunger and the constant fear.

Gary Oak was in the worst state. He was feverish now, his body unable to fight off illness due to malnutrition and dehydration. They tried to take care of him as best they could, tearing pieces of their already threadbare clothing to fan him, trying to offer some relief from the fever that wracked his body.

The cruelty of their captors was relentless. The tall grunt with sharp features and a cruel smile was the worst. She enjoyed their suffering, taunting them with food she ate in front of them, her laughter echoing off the cold stone walls, making Amanda's skin crawl.

"Enjoy the ambiance, why don't ya?"

Amanda tried not to lose hope, but it was hard. The endless days of suffering, the pain of seeing her friends in such dire states, the constant humiliation—all of it was almost too much to bear.

But then, today, something changed.

"Who is it?" she barked sharply at the soft knock on the door.

"I have some orders from Executive Arianna for the prisoners," came a reply from the other side.

The voice was muffled.

At the mention of Arianna, a wave of fear and anxiety swept through the prisoners. Whispers filled the air, and the clinking of flesh against metal became louder as they shifted uneasily, some letting out muffled screams, their eyes wide with tears.

"Shut up!" the grunt snapped, annoyed by the noise. She stomped over to the door, her keys jangling loudly at her belt as she moved.

"Finally, are we going to go back? Is she going to announce the winner?" the grunt asked as she swung the door open, not prepared for what was about to happen.

There was a loud crash, and suddenly, the grunt was on the ground, unconscious. All the prisoners gasped, their hearts pounding with a mix of shock and sudden, fragile hope. They craned their necks, trying to see their rescuer through the bars of their cages.

There, in the doorway, stood a boy dressed in a standard Team Rocket uniform but with a paper bag over his head. Confidently in front of him, a Rattata stood. Relief washed over Amanda, tinged with disbelief.

Could this really be happening? Were they actually going to be rescued?

"Who are you?" Amanda's voice rang out, strong yet laced with an undercurrent of fear as she instinctively moved to shield Gary and the others.

Austin knelt before the cage, peering through the makeshift holes of his paper bag mask, feeling the intensity of their gazes like physical weights pressing against his skin. He reached into his backpack, the sound of rustling wrappers unnaturally loud in the oppressive silence of the makeshift prison.

As he unwrapped the chocolate bars, he noticed their faces—the gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes that spoke volumes of their ordeal. Holding out the bars, he saw their expressions transform. What seemed to him a small gesture of kindness looked to them like a feast of kings. A simple act of sharing food suddenly felt like bestowing hope.

"Is that for us?" one voice whispered, so laden with hope it made Austin's heart twist uncomfortably.

"Please, just a piece," another pleaded, hands shaking as they reached through the bars. The desperation was palpable, the hunger in their eyes more piercing than the coldness of the bars.

"We're so hungry."

"If you give me just a piece, you can have all my money."

"I have a TM," another voice chimed in, desperation turning to bargaining.

"My uncle owns a small company..."

"You can use my body..." The offers escalated, each more frantic and unsettling than the last. The cacophony of desperate pleas echoed off the walls, a chorus of human misery that seemed to wrap around Austin, tightening like a vice.

Standing there, amidst the chaos of reaching hands and pleading eyes, Austin felt a heaviness settle in his chest.

He was just fifteen—how had he ended up in a place like this?

These were a few adults, people who should have had the answers, the solutions, the means to protect their younger ones, yet here they were, reduced to this state of raw desperation. And among them, startlingly, the majority were kids my age. Children who should have been worrying about their gym badges and not experiencing this.

Seeing them, something shifted inside me. It was one thing to understand hardship as an abstract concept, something that happened in stories or far-off places.

It was entirely different to see it etched on faces that could easily have been in the mirror.

This was no distant tragedy; it was real.

This world... was so real to me.

For a moment, Austin felt a wave of nausea rise up. The reality of their situation, the depth of their despair—it was overwhelming. A part of him wanted to close his eyes, to turn away and pretend he hadn't seen the ugliness of their plight. But another, stronger part pushed that cowardice away.

Some thoughts entered his head.

What if he hadn't come? What if he had let his fear, his desire to remain just a kid playing at adventures, override this moment? What would have happened to these people, to Gary, if he had chosen to remain hidden away?

These thoughts churned through Austin's mind as he looked down at the chocolate in his hands. He couldn't erase their suffering, but he could alleviate it, even if just for a moment.

"Everyone will get some, but you have to behave like humans. No pushing, no stealing. Just wait."

As Austin distributed food and water among the prisoners, a sudden movement snapped him back to alertness.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a bottle hurtling towards him—an unwelcome gift from the grunt attempting an escape.

Rattata appeared in front of him just in time, intercepting the bottle. It was meant as a distraction, and as it tumbled through the air, the contents spilled, soaking the paper bag that was covering Austin's face.

"Sword strike!"

Rattata vanished in a blur, her body a swift streak of movement as she utilized a Quick Attack. She bounced off the walls, closing the distance to the fleeing guard in mere seconds. Just as the grunt's hand touched the door handle, hoping for freedom, Rattata's Iron Tail whipped through the air. It connected squarely with the guard's jaw, her head snapping to the side with such brutal force that it must have rattled her brain, overwhelming her senses. She crumpled to the ground, her body limp, succumbing to unconsciousness almost instantly.

Meanwhile, Austin felt the paper bag on his face starting to disintegrate from the dampness. He held onto the fragments, trying to maintain some semblance of cover as he walked over to the pile of discarded bags nearby. His heart pounded as he sifted through his backpack with hurried movements, pulling out a new paper bag to slip over his head.

The last thing he wanted was for anyone to see his face, to remember it.

Austin's fingers brushed against the coarse fabric of the Silph Co. bag, his curiosity piqued. He unzipped it slowly, revealing an unexpected treasure trove within: a collection of Pokéballs, a wallet, assorted documents, a gym badge case, and a Technical Machine, labeled 'Bide.'

Why haven't these been distributed among the Team Rocket grunts?

Almost without thinking, Austin's hand gravitated toward the TM. He turned it over in his hands, the bold label glaring up at him as a whisper echoed in his head: Take it, this could help us.

He froze, the weight of the decision anchoring his feet to the dusty floor. Raised with a clear moral compass that stealing was wrong, Austin found himself at a crossroads.

You are going against an Executive; that TM and that Boulder badge can increase our chances of winning.

His brow furrowed, the internal conflict evident on his face. Part of him, sharpened by survival instincts and recent ordeals, saw the practicality in taking the TM—it was about survival, not petty theft. Yet, the core of his upbringing, the essence of the boy who had grown up in a normal, ethical household, recoiled at the idea. He wasn't a thief; he was merely a fifteen-year-old caught in extraordinary circumstances.

Rattata, sensing his hesitation, placed a comforting paw on his leg.

Her eyes met his.

Do it for your Pokémon.

Austin closed his eyes briefly, letting the gravity of the situation settle on his shoulders.

Am I just being greedy? Or am I being pragmatic? he questioned himself, feeling the TM's weight grow in his grip.

"You can have that."

Startled, Austin looked up to find a prisoner gesturing toward him. Though she couldn't see his face clearly, the outline of the TM was unmistakable in his hands.

"What did you say?" His voice cracked slightly, reverting to its natural, youthful timbre—a slip that caused a few prisoners to gasp in surprise.

"You can have that, but you have to give me double the food," the prisoner negotiated, desperation raw in her voice.

Austin surveyed the girl more closely. She was one of many he hadn't managed to give much food to, owing to the abrupt chaos of the attack. The desperation in her voice, her plea for something as fundamental as food, struck a deep chord within him.

Suddenly, offers from other prisoners began to pour in; the din in the dimly lit space grew louder, more desperate.

"You can have my TM for Rain Dance."

"You can have my Cerulean Badge."

"You can have my money."

The voices piled on, as in this moment, food was far more precious than any currency or item.

Taking advantage of these people is wrong, his conscience nagged relentlessly.

Yet, the opportunity laid bare before him was incredibly tempting. As each new offer was shouted over the clang of metal and murmur of hope, he could feel his plans shifting, adapting to the resources being thrown his way.

"Rattata..."

The small Pokémon squeaked, sensing the turmoil swirling within him. Looking at his little lady, Austin found his answer.

"Don't—"

Austin cut off the voice of his own inner consciousness harshly. He knew exploiting these desperate souls was wrong, but if it meant bolstering their chances against Team Rocket, he was willing to make that morally ambiguous choice.

Silently, he unzipped his backpack, revealing the two weeks of meal prep he had meticulously planned. Without a word—he didn't trust his voice in that moment—he began to distribute the food. He avoided the eyes of the prisoners as they devoured their portions, their actions driven by a primal fear that it might be snatched away.

As he watched them eat, he surveyed the trove of items he had acquired from their desperate trades: 30K Pokédollars, 20 spare Pokéballs, ten Boulder Badges, three Cerulean Badges, a Moon Stone, Leftovers, and a Sharp Beak. The collection also included six TMs—Bide, Water Pulse, Rain Dance, Whirlwind, Bubble Beam, and Flash.

"This tofu is rubbery," someone commented offhandedly, pointing at the food.

"Hey, I worked really hard on that tofu," Austin retorted.

The prisoners stared at him, and the weight of the moment settled uncomfortably around them.

A flush of embarrassment warmed his face under the paper bag mask.

"Little lady, you want to try my tofu?"

Rattata just stared back at him, unblinking, and then slowly shook her head. Her simple gesture broke the tension, and a ripple of giggles spread through the crowd, relaxing the atmosphere.

Despite the laughter, a part of him remained uneasy. Had he made the right choices?

"What are you, some kind of hero?" Amanda's voice brought him back to the present.

"Nah, just some guy who was wronged by these villains and wants revenge," Austin responded with a shrug.

The prisoners looked on.

"I am curious," Austin said, gesturing toward the pile of bags. "Why didn't they take your loot?"

One of the prisoners, an older man likely one of the rangers, glanced at the pile before answering, his voice thick with bitterness. "The Executive was using our stuff as prizes for whoever could catch... I don't know, they called it 'Project Evolution.'"

Austin nodded, processing the new information. "Where are your Pokémon?"

"Snatched, and apparently stashed in the executive's pad. They're supposed to be some kind of gnarly gift for the Big Boss," Amanda replied, her voice laced with bitterness.

"How do you know this?"

"She was all, like, bragging about it," Amanda said, nodding toward the still unconscious grunt.

"Listen, I know you've all been through hell," Austin began. "You've been captured, stripped of your belongings, and your Pokémon taken from you. But I'm here to ask, do you want to get revenge on those who caused you this pain? Do you want to stand up and fight back against Team Rocket?"

Murmurs filled the air, mixed with nods and hesitant looks.

"Why should we fight back?"

Austin met their gaze squarely, his voice growing stronger.

"They took our freedom, they took our dignity, and they took our family."

"But we are weak."

"If you can't punch, kick. If you can't kick, bite. If you can't bite, then crawl," Austin proclaimed, his voice escalating into a scream. "Crawl not for yourself, but for your Pokémon... Crawl for your family!"

A murmur swept through the crowd, the seed of resolve taking root.

"I am scared," whispered another prisoner, her voice a fragile thread of sound in the dense air.

Austin stopped in his tracks, turning to face them directly. "How many of you felt fear when you first entered a Pokémon battle? When your Pokémon got hurt? When you froze? To feel fear is to feel alive, but we overcame that fear!"

"We are trainers, are we not?" he challenged.

The prisoners nodded, some more eagerly than others.

"We are fighters, are we not?" Austin continued, his voice growing louder.

Again, the prisoners nodded, their movements firmer, their voices beginning to find strength.

"So rise and fight!" Austin exclaimed, throwing his fist into the air.

"Fight!"

"Fight," the prisoners echoed, initially soft and uncertain.

"Fight!" Austin repeated, his command more forceful, more insistent.

"Fight!"

This time, the shout from the prisoners was unified, their fists raised in apparent solidarity.

Yet beneath this was all just a facade filled with an undercurrent of individual fears and hidden agendas.