thundamoo
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Some Stuff Happened and I Wrote A Fanfic (Whoops)
🕑 Added 2022-12-05 07:47:59 +0000 UTCWell. Uh. Hi everyone. So I've been working hard on Bioshifter and Vigor Mortis, both of the upcoming chapters for those have a couple thousand words written. But I was hitting some major writer's block for both, and... well, to make a long story short, my roommates convinced me to host a Pokemon quest to try and unblock my writing chutes and so I ended up writing that for like. The past two days. Instead of anything else? Sorry!?
Uh, for those you who don't know a Quest is, it's basically a form of story in which I write mostly live, post a short segment, and then the readers vote on what happens next, which I then write the results of, etc. It's very collaborate and pretty fun which is, I suppose, why I've ended up with nearly ten thousand words of it in a shockingly short amount of time.
If you're interested in participating or just seeing updates as they come, I do the votes and the writing live on my Discord, which you should get automatic access to if you link it with your Patreon but if that's not something you want you can also follow this link: https://discord.gg/NKgbXv8N5G
Otherwise, well... I have a huge mound of words here and I figure I should share them with you! Sorry for the delays this will (and already has) caused I'm still chugging out Bioshifter and Vigor Mortis, there's no need to worry, but I guess this is also a thing that sometimes seizes my attention like a squirrel protecting the last nut on Earth.
I hope you enjoy, but if not rest assured the things you're actually paying me for are, indeed, still coming at whatever weird pace my brain allows.
So, without further adieu, please enjoy this story about the victim of a horrific human experiment just trying to live her life: Pokémon Mercury.
"Mercury? Honey, are you hungry? Dinner is ready."
You blink, taking a moment to remember that that's your name. Mercury. Mercury, Mercury, Mercury. That's what you were called before all this. You peel your eyes away from the computer screen, away from the remedial math course you can barely read the words of and don't understand. It's been almost three months since you were rescued from that place, and you're still not used to it. "Mercury." Not "subject," not "eighty-one," just… Mercury. A fuzzy name, from before.
Standing on the stairs up to your room is your Aunt Tess. She stares at you, concern radiating off of her… along with stress, despair, and an underpinning of resentment that she hates herself for having. Your aunt Tess cares about you. Your aunt Tess has done everything in her power to help you adjust, help you be a person again, something you still don't really feel. Part of that, you think, is because aunt Tess also doesn't want the burden of your presence. She feels responsible for you, because you don't have any other relatives now that your parents were killed by that place. But she never married for a reason. She never had kids for a reason. And as much as she tries her best, she wishes she didn't have to have one now.
But that's not really important. She asked you a question, and you need to answer.
"I am hungry," you confirm succinctly.
"Come on down, then," she says, a smile on her face that's still genuine despite how much of a burden you are on her.
You stand, happy to have something new to do. You've been working on remedial math since your aunt suggested it, and it's… difficult. But you're working on it. You remember what it was like before, and you can still memorize things, like times tables and equations and the most common addition and subtraction operations, but the why keeps escaping you in ways you're pretty sure it didn't before. You probably have brain damage. …Which would make sense, because everyone certainly treats you like you do.
Your billowy white hair, tipped with red on the ends, floats and twists around you as you walk like you're moving underwater. It's not really hair, the scientists said, not like the thin white coat of fur that covers most of the rest of your body. You're fuzzy, soft in ways reserved for animals, and it makes bathing a pain. At least back at that place you didn't have to worry about bathing yourself, it was rarely done and they had a machine that did everything without your input. None of this shampoo or conditioner stuff that smells horrid and overwhelms your nose with fake scents of things masquerading as flowers or fruits but you know are poison. You don't want it on your body.
…Though it does help make you less itchy. And it keeps your tail untangled, which is a problem because unlike the rest of your body your tail has very long hair, it's almost entirely floof. Fox-like and bulbous, it's tipped with brown fur instead of the red on your head. It's probably from your Eevee DNA, but it's hard to tell.
There's sort of a lot going on with your DNA. The scientists always said it was remarkable you were alive. You weren't really supposed to be. And, well, you're part ghost, so maybe you aren't.
"So, ah, I tried cooking something out of mostly berries today," your aunt babbles. "Professor Elm said we should try poffins, but I think I messed up the poffin recipe a little so it's just sort of a little… um. Runny. I'm sorry."
The food actually smells quite good. Much better than usual. You want to tell her it's okay and that she doesn't have to apologize. Instead, you just nod.
A knocking sound drums behind you and your ears go up, alert and fearful. Sudden sounds, in your experience, are rarely good. Someone snuck up on you because of the poffin smell! Except… well. You don't feel any danger. Which is weird. You used to always feel danger, so you're still kind of… expecting it.
"Mercury? Sorry, honey, could you get that?"
Get… oh. The door. Of course. You… hesitate, not really sure what to say. You don't want to get the door. You haven't gone outside in weeks and you like it that way. There's way too much going on out there, it's sort of overwhelming. Plus you have to put an illusion up if you don't want everyone to look at you funny or throw a Pokéball at you, and illusions are stuffy. And you're kinda supposed to tell Aunt Tess when she tells you to do something that you don't want to do, but you're not very good at it and she seems very busy with the food right now.
You hesitate.
Get the door, illusion up.
You sigh, your hair writhing in response to your anxiety.
"Yes, Aunt Tess," you confirm respectfully, and head for the door with an illusion twisting in your mind.
When you were first brought here, Aunt Tess showed you pictures of what you used to look like, years ago. You don't look very much like that anymore, but it's a simple enough face to remember, if changed a little to better match your age. You are, apparently, fifteen years old, not that the number feels like anything of significance to you. Time was just another torture in that place, one you prefer not to think about.
You take a deep breath, gathering your fear and regret, the feeling of looking at that photo and not knowing who it was until Aunt Tess told you. It forms itself around you as the facade of a freckled, round-faced girl with green eyes and a small, almost pouty mouth. Nothing like the sharp face you have now, with blade-like teeth and angular eyes. The girl in the picture also had short black hair, but you form your illusion's hair as long, frizzy, and white, just to feel a little bit more like yourself.
Away, your fur and claws hide. Away, your tail vanishes to invisibility. It's all still there, of course, hidden behind the mask of manifested emotion, and bumping into anything too hard will shatter the trick instantly. But it's not like you'd let a human you don't know touch you anyway. You would dodge if they try.
…Or bite. Though that instinct has mostly been trained out of you.
You reach the door and grab the knob, turning it to pull it open. Doors, too, feel strangely confusing to you. You understand that the door can be opened only if the knob is turned. That's easy, that's obvious. But why is that the case? The more you think about it the more frustrated you become, because you know there's a mechanism, a… a something that lets the turning knob move a latch, but it doesn't make any sense to you until you're looking at a video of a cross-section of it moving online. Then you can see it, then it makes perfect sense, but unless you look at it over and over, unless you memorize it in full, it slips out of your head. It's just not intuitive. Not like it used to be.
You open the door, a familiar scent both calming you and putting you on edge. You look up at the man in front of you, seeing the stress and impatience in the shoe he taps on the ground, the taut muscle of his skill (he's worthy) and wariness, the affected relaxation in his posture because he doesn't want to worry you, the arrogant grin of a proud man coming to deliver good news that paints him in a good light.
It's him. Your savior.
"Hello," you greet him, the memory of your meeting pulsing in your mind. The crashing, the screaming, the roars of righteous indignation. The day you knew you would die, where someone found you and gave you life.
Hello doesn't feel like enough, so you add:
"It's good to see you, Blue."
Your Aunt Tess jumps at your words (surprise, embarrassment, arousal?) and looks up from her cooking experiment with a panicked face. Suddenly, I'm on edge again. Why is she afraid?
"L-leader Blue!" she greets him. "I wasn't expecting you! Welcome!"
"Hah! Well, sorry to pop in unannounced, I just finally got ahold of a little trinket and wanted to give it to Mercury as soon as possible," he grins, unrepentant (amused?) of any distress caused. "No need to interrupt your dinner for me, I'll just be in and out."
"O-of course yes!" Aunt Tess confirms. "Come in, come in."
He does so, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. You drop your illusion like a held breath, since he knows about you anyway. Blue reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small necklace, with what looks like a military dogtag on the end.
"This," he explains, "should be a good temporary solution to your current worries. The chip in here has an exception code to the League system that will automatically cause any legal Pokéball to reject you like they would a human. Don't lose it, this thing is proprietary as all hell."
He slips it around your neck directly, rather than handing it to you. He smells so strong. Many defeated foes have marked him as such.
"I will not lose it," you promise.
"Good," he says. "It'll make it a lot safer for you to be around Pokéballs and, consequently, Pokémon themselves. It won't, unfortunately, help you with every problem. Someone could still catch you in a jailbroken ball and potentially even digitize you, and that motherfucker Bill insists he can't add you as an exception unless you visit him personally. But still. For most major issues? That'll cover you. No more accidentally trapping yourself if you grab a ball wrong."
"That is helpful," you agree.
"Good," he nods. "Great."
There's a pause, one he seems to find awkward, though you find it rather pleasant.
"So, uh… you doing okay, kid?" he asks.
You're not really sure how to answer that. Your first instinct is to rub your face on his hand, but Aunt Tess says that isn't appropriate. So you say nothing.
"...Right," Blue says, his smile fading a bit. "So. Here's the deal. I wanna pull more strings for you, and ideally fly you out to meet Bill myself, but… I can't. More Team Rocket cells keep cropping up all over the damn place, in Johto and Kanto, and I can't really not deal with that. But I highly, highly recommend you go meet the guy as soon as possible. Bill's currently visiting his family in Goldenrod for the next month or two, and… I mean, if you wanna stay here that's fine. But Bill is the guy you need for the next step to get your life back on track. He can get into all the right systems, and… y'know. Make sure you aren't flagged as something you aren't."
That was a lot of words. As far as you're concerned, though, Blue says you should go meet someone named 'Bill,' and therefore you should do that.
Look for permission + leave immediately.
You take a deep breath, your hair swirling as you weave your usual illusion back around yourself. A task. Go to a place. Talk to a man. You can do that. It's certainly better than math. You start to walk out of the door… but then your aunt speaks up.
"Mercury!" she yelps. "Are you just wandering off? Honey, you can barely go outside by yourself. Do you even know where Goldenrod is?"
You hesitate. You're supposed to go, so you'll go. But. You're also supposed to listen to Aunt Tess. That is what you've been doing for the past three months, and it's been… not terrible? A much kinder cage, you suppose. But still a cage, still a stifling confinement, full of baffling tests and confusing orders and humans that care too much about too many things. You're supposed to listen to Aunt Tess, so you have been.
…But new tasks generally supersede old tasks, so it's probably okay to just go to Goldenrod.
"I will figure it out," you tell her. "Goodbye."
She blinks in surprise as you leave, Blue also saying goodbye as he follows you out of the house.
"In that much of a hurry to leave, huh?" he says sympathetically. You're not really sure what he means, though.
"Which way is Goldenrod?" you ask.
He chuckles, shaking his head.
"How about you go to Professor Elm's place, just to start things off," Blue tells you, changing your destination location to Professor Elm's Laboratory. "I realize that you can… probably handle yourself just fine, but if you want to travel around legally you need a trainer license and registered partner. Nobody will actually arrest you or whatever for traveling routes without a Pokémon to protect you, but it's still the law and it's best if you don't raise eyebrows."
Raise… eyebrows? You glance at him, taking in his expression (smirk, humor) and demeanor (hesitance, worry). A colloquial statement, then. When a human raises both eyebrows it is surprise. When they raise one eyebrow, it is questioning. Raising eyebrows most likely means 'gathering attention,' which fits with the context of the sentence. He doesn't want you to gather attention. Which makes sense.
A scowl forms on your face anyway, although your illusion's expression remains blank. He wants you to get a partner Pokémon. Again. Pokémon… bother you.
But he's not really suggesting, this time. This time, it is a task.
"Okay," you say.
He nods slowly.
"You sure?"
You hesitate. That's… not an easy question to answer.
"I know that you… react poorly around Pokémon, Mercury," Blue says. "But the whole world is Pokémon. Even if you don't collect yourself a partner, you'll run into them constantly along your journey. If you stop looking at your own feet you can probably spot thirty of them right now."
You glance up, and sure enough a Pidgey flies by about thirty meters away. (Not looking at you. Unaggressive posture. Feint? No. WEAK.) You swallow, and return your view to your own feet.
"I… I know you're a person," Blue says quietly. "Not a Pokémon, not really. But the way you look at them reminds me of a lot of Pokémon that I've rescued, Pokémon that were beaten and broken until they didn't know anything but battle. And I don't… I just find, in my experience, that a lot of people and a lot of Pokémon find themselves getting better more easily with a friendly Pokémon beside them. To remind them that… it's not all pain. It's not all about strength."
Such a mystifying thing for the strongest to say.
Tell Blue you'd be more comfortable with one of his Pokémon.
You hesitate. You want to say no, but it's beyond you. You need to see Bill. You need to have a partner Pokémon to travel legally. That is the situation, and as much as it makes your claws twitch and your hair writhe that's just how things are. You swish your tail back and forth for a moment before catching yourself. Stupid of you to do that with your illusion up. Back at that place, they didn't care very much about your illusions after determining how they work. You don't have much practice pretending to be human. Only using them to fight.
Still. The idea of taking one of Professor Elm's Pokémon is revolting to you. He's… you don't like him. You don't like his white coat or his aggressive curiosity or how happy he always is to see you. The ones that were happy to see you were always the worst.
The good ones were only ever sad.
"I…" you start, still instinctively scared of questioning anyone, of disagreeing, but emboldened by a prior standing task to do so, "I would be more comfortable with one of your Pokémon."
Blue is surprised at first, but a big grin splits his face soon after.
"Would you, now?" he laughs. "Well! I suppose the same could be said about most people. I am the best there is at raising healthy, combat-ready 'mons. But, ah, hmm. Most of my team isn't exactly something I'm comfortable leaving in the hands of an amateur, no offense. It's important to have a Pokémon that respects you."
You nod in agreement.
"That is why I want one of yours," you explain. "They will respect you. You will tell them to listen to me. They will obey."
"That's… not really how it works, kid," Blue hedges. "They'll only obey until I walk away. My orders don't mean much when I'm not looking."
You frown, not understanding that at all. But, well. Blue said it, so it must be true.
"I am confident I can force a state of obedience in most Pokémon," you answer instead.
Blue winces, sending terror through you. That… wasn't a good thing to say! Why not? No, no, no, no…
"Mercury, part of the point of having a partner Pokémon is so that you don't have to fight. You can let them handle it. Okay? I don't want you blasting your way to Goldenrod like your life depends on it. I want you to go out, have a journey, learn about yourself and actually relax a little. You're… fuck, Mercury. You deserve it. We should have found you sooner."
You stare at him, not sure what to say to that. You suppose it would have been nice to have been found sooner, but you're still reeling from having been found at all so it seems rude to complain.
And it's never okay to be rude.
Blue sighs, seeming to pick up on the fact that your owl-eyed stare is the only answer he's getting.
"...Look, I have a few young 'mons that you can pick from," he says. "We're still going to Professor Elm's lab, though, because he's the guy that has to authorize your trainer card and get you equipped and what-have-you. But… yeah. You can have one of my young ones. There are a few that I think would, uh, match your disposition."
You nod, relief flooding you. You asked for something, and you're going to get it. It still surprises you when that happens now.
You approach Professor Elm's lab alongside Blue, doing your best to avoid eye contact with… pretty much everything. The smells of Pokémon all over the place are already enough to be nearly overwhelming, but at least they aren't nearby. That place always smelled like Pokémon, but you never had to fight them until they were in the same room with you, so it's not too bad.
"Hey, kid!" Blue suddenly yells, causing you to instantly lower into a ready stance, claws up to protect your face and a telekinetic barrier ready to flash into being at a moment's notice. But Blue simply continues talking, and you realize that despite the volume it's only an indication of false aggression. "Quit staring into the window! This is private property!"
You follow Blue's gaze to a human boy with crimson red hair, sneering at both of you before putting his hands into his pockets and stalking off, as instructed. Well. Good! He knows to listen to Blue. You suppose there's no problem, then. Unfortunately, you can't really relax, because now you're at the front doors to Professor Elm's lab.
Blue simply lets himself in despite the prior reminder that this is private property, but you suppose it's probably okay when he does it. You follow after him, immediately put on edge by the confined smells, echoing sounds, mechanical whirrs and people in labcoats. Wake up, eighty-one. Finish your breakfast, eighty-one. We're gathering data on your eyes today, eighty-one. You can't be asleep for the procedure because we need you to hold them steady. You'll be punished if you twitch. Good work, eighty-one. Back to your cell, eighty-one. Come on then. Come on.
"Hey, come on, Mercury!" Blue calls, waving you further inside. You jolt, embarrassed, and move to follow. "Elm, we're finally doing it. You have the cards ready?"
"Hmm?" the white coat responds, a tall, reedy man with weakness radiating off of him like the stench of sweat. The two of you have barely interacted at all, and you hate him all the same. "Oh! Mercury! Welcome, welcome. You know, I was just reading through the recovered data on you the other day and I think—"
"Woah there, egghead," Blue says, cutting him off. "Do you have the cards ready or not?"
Silently you thank him again. You hate any conversation about 'data.'
"Hmm? Oh, yes, of course. They were ready a month ago. As are… well, let's see, I still have… Cindaquill left, I think?"
"No need, just the cards and 'dex," Blue dismisses, walking over to a nearby computer and logging in. "I have a set of my own to offer. Mercury, what are your opinions on… let's see. Yeah, this'll work. Porygon, Psyduck, or Vulpix?"
Vulpix
You blink.
"Which do you think would be best suited?" you ask, not knowing why the decision is being given to you.
He gives you the sort of concerned look that means you've done something wrong but in a way that makes Aunt Tess want to hug you rather than hurt you, which is always a bit confusing.
"I think all three of them would be well-suited to you," he answers. "That's why I picked them. Porygon is an artificial, man-made Pokémon, and I think it might set off your traumas a little less because of it. Psyduck is calm, patient, easy to manage, and has similar psychic abilities, if much weaker. I think he'd be easy to train. And Vulpix was born in the Alola region, so she's got white hair like yours, and you can help keep each other cool. I know you have problems with overheating sometimes."
You don't have problems with overheating. Ambient temperatures survivable for humans don't appreciably damage you, whether they're hot or cold. You suppose it's a lot more comfortable in the cold, though.
"I have no preference," you say simply.
He sighs, scratching his head.
"How about… I get all three of them out here and you choose after meeting them?" he suggests.
You bristle instinctively at the idea of sharing space with a Pokémon, but nod slowly anyway. A short while later, three Pokéballs are tossed and reveal a Porygon (Frail, but do not use shadows), a Psyduck (Slow. Easily distracted. Flank and target center of mass), and a… hmm. A Vulpix. Except white instead of red. Cold instead of hot. You've never fought this kind before.
It does, indeed, match your hair.
The small creature yawns, raising its front left and back right leg and stretching them out as far as it can before alternating the motion. It is not aggressive, but nor is it addressing you. You glance to the Psyduck, which is conversely staring right at you, head tilted to ask who you are and what's going on. You do not deign to answer it, instead shifting your attention to the Porygon, which is as… incomprehensible as always. There's something so… simple about it that disturbs you on a fundamental level. An artificial Pokémon made by humans, or so you've heard. Yet it does not speak, it does not… communicate.
Is this what most humans think Pokémon are?
An indignant trill from the white Vulpix catches your attention, its lazy gaze and impatient posture carrying a clear message: "Is someone going to tell us what we're doing here, or are we just waiting around?"
It's as clearly and obviously a sentence to you as anything spoken by a human, a universal language divorced from specific sounds or symbols yet still just as complete. It's most of the way you understand humans at this point, the words they speak often being more confusing than the ideas they convey simply by being. You remember before, when you couldn't understand people this way, and you conclude that no human can. They get confused with basic body language, they hesitate at obvious lies.
It's weird. But you suppose your illusions can't really carry that information very well, so maybe you're the problem.
"One of you is going to be owned by me," you answer aloud, the voice usually carrying enough information to communicate on its own.
The Vulpix and Psyduck hesitate, both seeming to take a moment to process my statement without the normal body language to make it more easily comprehensible. They seem to get even more worried once they finish parsing.
"...Mercury, there's no need to scare them," Blue says gently.
"Hey!" the Vulpix protests indignantly, standing up straight and bristling its fur at you. "I'm not afraid!"
You kneel down, and though you're quite short for a human you still easily tower over the Vulpix. Your hair billows behind the illusion, a well-trained instinct to put down the animal seeping out of you like water from a cracked bucket. You start to apply telekinetic pressure, crushing the three little Pokémon under a slowly-increasing weight, disabling them, squeezing the very air from their lungs. The threat, you feel, is pretty obvious.
"You should be," you're saying back. "Kneel."
The Psyduck quivers. The Porygon collapses. The Vulpix, however, stands its ground, ice crystals starting to swirl around its body as a pathetic prelude to what might be a dangerous attack to a caterpie. Pathetic. You just keep increasing the pressure, because sooner or later—
"Mercury!" Blue snaps, fear of his displeasure shattering your attack like glass. What did you do? What did you do wrong!? "Stop! You don't… you're picking a partner. You're not establishing dominance. You're not there anymore. Remember?"
You hesitate. You stop. Not there anymore. Never again.
"You don't fight against your partner," Blue continues. "You fight with them. You treat them like me, or your Aunt. Okay?"
That's… not quite… that doesn't make sense. You can't treat them like Blue. He's… (Strong. Proven. Worthy.) your rescuer. And you don't really need or want another Aunt Tess. These people, meanwhile, are weak. So how would you… oh, wait. There is one thing you do around Tess and Blue that you could do here.
You drop your illusion. The Porygon's reaction… you can't parse. The Psyduck seems afraid. The Vulpix… seems surprised.
"Wait. You're one of us?"
You let a twitch of my tail and flick of my ear carry most of your message.
"I am but I am not."
"Well, what are you then?" the Vulpix asks.
You think for a moment, and then decide.
"Your trainer."
"The Vulpix is most worthy of partnership," you declare aloud. "I will take it."
"Her," Blue corrects. "She's a girl, like you."
Well. You could smell that. You just didn't find it relevant at the time.
"Okay," you say.
"Do you want to name her?" Blue asks.
Not… really?
"Ooh, yeah, I want a cool human name!" the Vulpix bounces. "You can speak human, right? They make so many neat sounds!"
Well. Hrm. Perhaps you can think of one?
Choose the name Winter
You hesitate, wracking your brain for a good name. What makes a good name? You don't know. Your name is Mercury because you were told your name is Mercury. And that's fine; you have no issues with your name. It's a preferable form of address to "subject eighty-one," though honestly you didn't have much of an objection to that either. Though… hmm. You're pretty sure you did at first, but… it just sort of stopped feeling like an issue in the face of everything else, after a while.
Anyway. Names. Your Vulpix wants a 'cool human name,' which makes sense because your Vulpix is Ice type. A regional variant, you assume. So… what names are cool? What names evoke coolness? Air Conditioning Unit? No, that's a bit wordy. Names have superior utility when they are relatively short. Blizzard? It's a powerful move that has given you trouble in the past, but you're not sure that's a 'human' name, specifically. It's more of a human description for a Pokémon thing.
You wrack your brain a bit harder. What was something that represented coolness to you back when you were human…?
"...Winter," you decide. "Your name will be Winter."
"Ooh!" the Vulpix (er, Winter you suppose) coos, a shake of her body and trill of curiosity carrying her question. "What does it mean?"
"It is the time of frost," you explain, shivering almost imperceptibly to better carry the information. "When the cold strips leaves from trees and the snow leaks down from mountaintops to cover the rest of the land."
"Oooh, what? That's awesome!" the Vulpix wiggles happily. "Gosh, that's badass. Winter! The great bringer of snow! Inevitable death of plants! Muahahaha!"
"She seems to like her name," Blue says, smiling at you. (This doesn't bother you. It's easy to see from posture that humans are almost always happy when they show teeth, not aggressive.)
"Yes," you agree. "It is a good season. I like snow. I hope I will be able to see it."
Blue and Elm shoot each other a concerned look that you think might be subtle by human standards. To you, of course, it very obviously reads as "holy shit this poor girl thinks she's going to die or get recaptured in the next few months," which. Well. Yes, most likely?
Professor Elm clears his throat, prompting you to tense up and mentally prepare yourself for something painful.
"I, ah, as I was trying to say earlier," he says awkwardly. "I was just reading through the recovered data on you the other day and I think it's largely good news. The Ghost-type energy attacking your living cells is a concern, but a much more minor one than initially feared. The natural regenerative capabilities of your other aspects looks like it's successfully saving your life, and sustainably so. Your human cells are all dying, but they're… being replaced with functional substitutes. It's hard to tell exactly how it all works, but since your health has only improved over the past three months, I think we have very little incentive to intervene with this ongoing process."
"Wait wait wait," Blue says. "You're saying all her human cells are dying, and that this is a good thing?"
"Well, not a 'good thing,' per se," Elm answers, physically making the air quotes, "just a thing that is less likely to result in her death than attempting to stop it with our current limited understanding."
"But what if it gets to her brain?" Blue asks.
Professor Elm blinks, indicating surprise due to incorrect assumption of shared information.
"Leader Blue, her brain was already mostly converted when you found her," Elm says. "Last I checked it was over ninety-nine percent Pokémon cells. By all accounts she should have already lost sapience, but if anything her lucidity has been improving. Our primary theory is that her mind was captured within her own Psychic energy field before it could be destroyed in a sort of reverse astral projection situation, but unless you can convince Sabrina to collaborate with us it'd be difficult to test the theory."
"Yeah, I definitely cannot do that," Blue sighs. "That woman is terrifying."
"Okay, I am totally lost," Winter says, and you let your gaze drift down to her rather than flick back and forth between the two tall men. "Humans are normally a little difficult to understand but this is just weirdo nonsense stuff. Do you understand this?"
"Mostly," you confirm with a trill.
"What are they talking about?"
"They are mostly talking about me," you answer, nose wiggling and tail bristling.
"Wait, really?" she says, glancing around in disbelief. "But you're right here and they aren't even paying attention to you."
"Humans do that frequently. I am not sure how."
"Gosh, yeah. Okay, I'm picking up on more of this now. How are they not constantly looking at you every time you're mentioned?"
"Humans have a remarkable talent for ignoring things, in my experience," you shrug.
"I guess?" she agrees, hopping closer to try and nuzzle you. "Hey, so do you wanna—"
She cuts herself off because you have hopped away, your hair flaring with threat. You let out a long, low hiss.
"Do NOT touch me."
"Woah, woah!" Blue says, finally breaking away from his conversation with the scientist. "You okay, Mercury? Did something happen?"
Yes. Obviously. Why do humans need to vocalize everything!?
"Winter is not allowed to touch me," you declare.
"Mercury, calm down," Blue says, his voice soft and posture implying a lack of command but you take it as an order anyway and shove your emotions down, keeping your body still. "She's not going to hurt you. Remember?"
You almost wrinkle your nose in irritation before remembering to keep still and project calm. You know that, though. Winter couldn't hurt you if she tried, she is too weak.
"My objection is not due to the assumption of threat," you clarify.
"Mercury…" Blue sighs. "It's going to be tough to travel with Winter if you avoid any and all contact. It's better if you get used to her. Right?"
You hesitate. Blue's words are important but you really don't like touching Pokémon…
Hold out your hand and accept a nuzzle.
…Surely he has a reason, though. You should listen to him. He's… you just need to listen to him. Hesitantly, you hold out a hand to Winter, affecting apology and acceptance.
Winter is unsure at first, which is wise of her, but your continued insistence for her to ignore your prior order eventually supercedes that and she steps forward to rub her face on your hand, which—
ICE fine fur density ICE skeletal similarities ICE mass conversion required ICE
Your skin ripples, organs straining and protesting as they try and fail to shrink.
ICE muscular inferiority ICE resistance inferiority ICE throughput inferiority ICE
It hurts. It hurts a lot. But you've hurt a lot worse for a lot longer for far less worthy reasons, and you have no trouble enduring it. Your hair writhes and your form twitches, but that's all it is. Instincts that don't work, a broken body at war with itself.
An easy illusion. So similar in form. A difficult illusion. So different in form. An easy illusion. ICE. So similar in form. ICE. Reorganize claw structure. ICE. A difficult illusion. ICE. Pigmentation shift required. ICE. So small and devoid of hate. ICE.
You exhale, and it feels frigid against your lips. You should probably stop now.
"That's enough," you say, and pull your hand away.
"There you go, see?" Blue smiles. "Pokémon can be pretty touchy-feely, so it's good to let them rub their face on you if they feel comfortable with it. It means they like you, so not letting them do it can send the message that you don't like them."
Oh. Is that why humans don't want you to nuzzle them? You don't get the impression that Aunt Tess or Blue don't like you, though…
"Why does this empty-headed Snom think you need to know what nuzzling is?" Winter grumbles.
"You should be more respectful," you chide her. "He was your original trainer."
"He hasn't trained me!" Winter protests. "He trained my mom. I've barely met the guy."
Blue laughs, combing his spiky hair back with his fingers.
"Well, I guess if you're already talking with her like that, that's a good sign," he says.
Um. Talking with her like what? You're pretty sure Blue can't understand Winter at all. In fact, his tone and posture indicate a significant degree of condescension, even more than normal. Like he doesn't believe you're even having a conversation in the first place. He thinks you're… making it up? But not in a way that would indicate insanity. What?
You shake your head, deciding not to care. Humans can't really communicate with Pokémon and you've never been particularly successful at explaining how Pokémon communication works, only frustrating yourself with failed attempts. Humans seem to struggle with wrapping their heads around complex nonverbal signaling in the same way you struggle with math, or doorknobs. Humans are good at patterns, complexities, and deductions. Pokémon, meanwhile, are good at subtleties, situational awareness, and instinct. Different strengths for different beings.
You've always thought you were somewhere in the middle, since you look like you're somewhere in the middle. You have a lot of Pokémon features, sure, but your body shape is human, your posture is human, your face is mostly human outside of the fur, you have mostly-human hands and mostly-human feet and you can still speak the human language. But still… ninety-nine percent Pokémon brain mass, huh?
This is exactly why you hate data.
"Where is Goldenrod City?" you ask, deciding the best option is to just focus on your objective.
"Oh, right!" Professor Elm says, shuffling off to his desk and unlocking a drawer. He returns with two devices, an odd square-shaped red one and a pink-and-white complex hinged… thingy. "Pokédex and Pokégear, just for you. The Pokégear has a map and GPS feature, so while it can get pretty wild out there you should always know at least the general direction to your destination."
You hesitate slightly, then take them.
"How… do they work?" you immediately turn to ask Blue, since you know you have no hope of figuring that out on your own.
"Uhhh, the Professor can explain that one," Blue answers, pulling out his own Pokégear and checking it. "I've already stayed here too long as-is. Got places to go and asses to kick, you know how it is."
You shake your head. You don't know very much about going places at all. You were kept in a cage.
"I'll talk to you later, okay Mercury?" Blue promises, turning to depart. "Call me when you get to Goldenrod and I'll try to find time to meet up. My number is in your gear. And, uh, you can also call me if you get in trouble, okay? Anything serious happens, and you let me know. Alright?"
You nod.
"And call your Aunt sometimes! Her number's in that thing too! Bye!"
He jogs out of the lab, and you catch of the Pidgeot he sends out and starts to jump on top of (Powerful, deadly, dangerous, do not engage) before the door shuts behind him.
Professor Elm starts explaining the Pokégear to you, but you struggle to listen to him as the stress of the laboratory starts setting in around you, now devoid of any oasis of comfort. You think you get the basics, though a lot of features still escape you, like the Radio. The numbers go up and down and that makes the sounds that come out different somehow…? You don't think it affects the map feature, though, so it's probably not that big of a deal.
The Pokédex, meanwhile, just gives you a lot of information on Winter, but it's mostly encyclopedic documentation which takes way too much focus and effort to read. You keep confusing words for other words that have the same shape and having to re-read things. It's frustrating.
"Thank you," you say, cutting off Professor Elm mid-sentence, an act that takes all of your courage to accomplish. "I think I understand the map feature. I am going to leave now. Goodbye."
Winter snickers at Elm's baffled expression as you about-face and walk away without another word, skipping beside and slightly behind you, as she should as your lesser. You do your best to stuff your new devices into your small pockets, including Winter's Pokéball, to limited but still technical success. You'll have to be holding either the Pokédex or the Pokégear at all times since they don't both fit, but that's fine. You'll probably have to have the map out all the time anyway? Whatever. You'll manage.
You're not wearing much other than short shorts and a tank top, since you're still not used to how clothing feels on top of your skin and more clothing tends to be uncomfortably warm anyway. The lack of decent pockets is a noteworthy downside, however.
Nothing for it, though. You weave your illusion back up, putting on your human face just in time to glance at a red shape rapidly retreating from outside the window to the lab. Hmm. Well, whatever. It was retreating so you don't consider it very important.
You exit the lab, your new map helpfully telling you to head west and even more helpfully telling you which direction west is. You turn that way and start walking, stopping only when you hear an unexpected voice from behind you.
"Mercury! Mercury, honey, wait!" the panting voice of your aunt calls.
You stop as instructed and turn to face her, faintly smug at how easily she gets winded. (Weak. Why do you listen to her?) She's holding a backpack, which smells of poorly-made poffins.
"You… huff... forgot to eat dinner, honey," she says. "And… you need something to carry things… for your journey. Right? I packed you… a water bottle. And two changes of clothes. And… some extra snacks. And a little spending money. So stock up… on more food… when you get to Cherrygrove. Okay?"
You blink. That. Is. Um. All very helpful. And you would not have thought of it.
"Th-thank you," you manage, accepting the backpack.
She shifts forward for a moment, then stops, hesitant.
"...Can I give you one last hug goodbye?" she asks, hesitant.
You tilt your head, calculating. She probably can't squeeze hard enough to destabilize the illusion that much.
"Okay," you allow, and she reaches around you, pulling you in. She smells… nice. Sad. Scared. Relieved. Worried. Hopeful. Hesitant. Guilty. Loving.
"I don't know if you're less likely to get hurt out there or more," she sniffs, tears starting to fall down her face and sink into your fur. You try to adjust your illusion so it looks wet. "We send ten-year-olds out there for Arceus' sake, but you… just be safe. Okay? I don't want to lose you for good this time."
You don't know what to say to that. So you say nothing.
"Be yourself, Mercury," she tells you. "You can be more than just what people tell you to do."
You frown slightly. You're not sure how you would do that. You're not sure you want to be more than that. But. Okay. If that's what she wants…
You rub her cheek with your own, letting out an affectionate rumble from your throat. She squeezes you even harder, and proves you quite wrong: your illusion breaks. But that's okay. You nuzzle her a bit more fervently in return, then step away, returning your illusion to normal.
"Goodbye, Aunt Tess," you tell her.
"Goodbye, Mercury," she answers back.
You turn and depart, and soon your map chirps to inform you that you have stepped out of the bounds of New Bark Town. You are now on Route 29, on the way to Cherrygrove City, which is decidedly not Goldenrod City but seems like a fairly clear prerequisite. To get to Goldenrod you'll have to go to Cherrygrove, then swim across a bay, then walk to the opposite side of a peninsula, and then finally reach Goldenrod. Your map is telling you to go in a weird snake pattern where you go up and then over and then down and then over and then up again to get to Goldenrod, but your method seems rather more direct.
"Hey, look!" Winter chirps, distracting you from your musings as she points towards the grass with her nose. "A Pidgey! We gonna fight it?"
Observe Winter in combat. Assist her. Then consume your defeated foe.
Your first instinct is to ignore the little bird, since it is weak and no threat to you. But… wait. You're supposed to be a Pokémon trainer now. It's your job to make Winter a more powerful fighter, and her weakness reflects poorly on you as her leader. So… yes. Perhaps a fight is warranted.
Besides, you're hungry.
"Go, Winter," you order her. "Show me what you can do."
"You got it!" she signals back, and she then blurs, flashing forwards with a preemptive, high-speed tackle. You identify the move fairly easily. It's the one where you coat yourself in the creatively-named 'Normal-type' energy and use it to rapidly accelerate. Quick Attack, they called it.
Your Pokédex chirps, and you glance at it to find that it, too, concurs with your assessment. Hmm. That might be useful for moves you don't know, you suppose.
The Pidgey is caught off guard with a panicked squawk, retaliating by sending a gust of wind at the ground, launching the bird into the air and simultaneously kicking up a cloud of dust into Winter's eyes. She makes a frustrated noise, opens her mouth, and blows, expelling a frigid wind imbued with Ice that strikes the Pidgey dead-on, ripping into its inherent Flying nature with voracious intensity. The bird falls, unconscious in moments.
You scowl.
"Stop," you order.
She stops with a jump, startled by your harsh tone.
"Wh… but I won!" she yelps.
Of course she won, that's not the problem. But you really, really struggle with putting your annoyance into words.
"You let it hit you," you accuse.
"I didn't let it do anything!" Winter protests. "We're fighting, of course it's going to try to hit me."
You use your Psychic power to pluck a feather from the Pidgey, which shrieks, waking up. You release it.
"Again," you order.
Still blinking sand from her eyes, Winter huffs in annoyance, launching herself towards the Pidgey as it attempts to fly away. It swerves, because of course it does, and counter-tackles. Winter is barely injured, though, and unleashes another Powder Snow to knock it out again.
Your scowl deepens.
"You let yourself be hit again," you accuse. "You don't have to do that."
"What do you mean 'I don't have to do that?'" Winter protests. "What do you want me to do, ask them nicely to not attack?"
You squat down, telekinetically picking up the Pidgey again and pulling its feathers out. It doesn't wake this time, so you start crushing it with Psychic power, twisting its head and straining its spine until the energies that make Pokémon so durable finally shatter, leaving nothing but a shattered spine and cold, dead flesh. Winter makes a shocked gasp behind you as you pluck out the rest of the feathers, lift the defeated foe up to your face, and take a bite.
The blood is uncomfortably warm. You should have had Winter chill it more for you. As you slowly chew and swallow, you wrack your brain for a better way to explain the problem.
"You got hit," you tell Winter slowly, "because you put your body in a place that was easy to hit. You could have stayed back and struck from a distance."
"It's easier to hit someone if I'm closer to them," Winter protests.
"Yes," you agree. "For them, too."
"But it was weak!" Winter says. "Yeah, it hit me, but it barely even hurt. Who cares?"
You take another bite out of the bird, trying to wrap your head around that profoundly stupid way of thinking. Again, Winter flinches when you chomp down, uncomfortable with the death she just participated in. So weak.
"...How many enemies will you have to fight today?" you ask her.
"Um. I don't know."
You nod. Exactly. You don't know.
"It is not winning if you defeat a foe and then lose afterwards," you tell her. "It is not winning if you defeat ten foes and then lose afterwards. Each and every conquest should be made with the assumption that you will have to have the energy to do it again afterwards. And again. And again. And again and again until there is nothing left."
You pop the rest of the Pidgey into your mouth. You have had a nice rest, these past few months. But now you finally have a task.
"You do not know what they will let out of the cage next," you tell her. "So you must always assume it can kill you, if you want to live."
"I-I…" Winter stammers, shaking and whimpering. "I'm sorry, I… I didn't mean to…"
You tilt your head, hesitating. It's not bad that Winter is scared, per se, but you're a little confused as to why she's as frightened as she is. Oh! Your illusion is up. She might be misinterpreting you.
"To be clear, I am not implying that I will kill and eat you for your failure," you inform her succinctly. "Part of my current task is to be your trainer, and therefore it is to make you strong. You are not about to be punished."
"O-oh. Okay," she says. "Um. Why did you… kill that Pidgey, though?"
You blink.
"I was hungry. I would have offered you some but you didn't seem like you wanted any."
"But that… you just killed somebody. Right?"
Yes? You don't see the big deal. You've killed a lot of people.
"Did you think no one else was going to eat that unconscious Pidgey if I didn't?" you ask, tilting your head.
Winter looks startled, indicating she's never really thought about that, or had to think about that. Which makes sense, you suppose. She was born in Blue's care, and she's clearly been fed with more than the corpses of her defeated foes. You have as well; most of your meals were rather more tasteless, prepared for purposes only the scientists in charge of you could divine. Some of them were okay, but some were actively painful, clawing at you from the inside with every bite. You ate everything you were given, all the same. Such was your task.
You admittedly don't know much about living in the wild either, come to think of it, but you know that humans and Pokémon eat other Pokémon. You've seen it.
Winter opens her muzzle to yip out a response, but you feel a sudden threat behind you and twist to focus your attention on that instead, power gathering and body dropping low.
…There's a Pokéball flying towards your face.
Catch the PokeBall telekinetically and send it back at the person who threw it.
With a twist of will you wrap your Psychic abilities around the incoming sphere, halting it in its place before reversing its momentum, launching it instinctively back to sender. With a sharp pap the thrower catches the returned projectile, staring you down with an intense expression. Anger, suspicion, hate, pride, insecurity. It's the red-haired boy that was staring into the laboratory, and he seems rather aggressive.
"I knew it," he sneers.
You blink, rather less interested in acknowledging that than you are in anticipating what his next move will be. A human is fighting you? Alone? You look around. You're not in view of town anymore, alone in the thick brush of the unpaved road to Cherrygrove. You could probably just kill him…? No, wait, you're not supposed to attack humans, you're supposed to be acting like one.
"What are you?" he asks. "Where do you come from?"
Hmm. These are rather less aggressive questions, at least.
"I am Mercury," you tell him. "I am from New Bark Town."
It says so on your trainer card. That's apparently where you lived before, too. He gets angrier at your answer, though.
"That's not what I… never mind. I heard you talking. You think you're strong?"
You tilt your head, considering that. It's a bit of a complicated question.
Not strong enough. Stronger than you are, though.
You think back to your experiences. The many, many fights you have won. But also the many you have lost. You never would have escaped that place on your own. Never in a million years. It was as beyond you as the sun. But then Blue swept in with his team of combat machines, and…
You tried to fight him.
Because that's what you were. When someone throws a Pokémon in your cage, you were supposed to kill it. But Blue saw you, naked and afraid, and he… so effortlessly he…
You shake your head. Strength is relative. There's no definitive measure of 'strong.' But there's one thing you know for certain.
"I am not strong enough," you decide.
Then you think about it a little more in the context of the situation, the reason this red-haired human is asking, and add:
"But I'm stronger than you."
The boy smirks. He seems to like your answer, which you find interesting.
"You think so, huh?" he says, pulling out a different Pokéball from the one he threw at you. "Then prove it. I challenge you to a battle. But here's the thing, freak: I know what you are."
You blink, rather unimpressed by this revelation. He's probably the red figure you saw fleeing the window to Elm's lab.
"There aren't a lot of places you can come from," he continues. "You're not the person you walk around pretending to be. You were made. And I know what that means. You're a perfect fit for the strongest trainer, which is going to be me!"
You were about to walk off, but now he has your attention. The strongest trainer? A laughable claim for one so weak, but certainly a worthy goal. You square up more seriously.
"Let's fight, freak," he sneers. "Either as a trainer or a Pokémon, I don't care how. I'm gonna make you work for me."
"I don't like this guy one bit," Winter growls. "Let's kick his ass!"
You glance down at her, not sure what to say. Fight him as a trainer or a Pokémon? A trainer or a Pokémon? What a frustrating dichotomy. You are a Pokémon. That's what Professor Elm said. A human mind trapped in a Pokémon's body. But you're also a trainer. You were given a Pokémon by Blue, given the task of training her, and that's what you intend to do. You're both. Why should you have to decide between one or the other?
"I choose both," you declare. "I will fight you as Trainer and Pokémon."
You point at him with a still-bloody hand, letting your illusion flicker and drop to reveal it. You taste his flash of fear, the Ghost in you bubbling in response.
"Winter! Stop anything he sends out. I will disable the human directly."
Again, fear. But not panic. He lowers his body, narrows his eyes, moves one arm to his belt. He is ready to fight. Good.
You form a telekinetic blade and fire it, but the boy is already tossing two Pokéballs. The first intercepts your strike, emerging from the sphere in a burst of light… and taking your attack without flinching. It's got a dark body, standing on two legs, with two long claws on its hands and feet. Sneasel. You scowl.
You hate Dark types.
Your body is primarily energized with Ghost and Psychic, both elements that Dark prefers as prey. Even worse, Dark types are completely immune to any sort of Psychic energy, capable of disrupting it merely by existing. Your other options for offense aren't much better.
"Cindaquill, go for the small one!" the boy commands, and you also glance over to notice the Fire-type Pokémon that was also sent out. A poor match for Winter. "Sneasel, defend me!"
This Dark type isn't very strong, but your instincts still scream for you to get away; any attack from it, even a weak one, could be devastating. Your offense and speed are your best attributes, but your defenses are incredibly frail, probably because of how your body keeps trying to kill you. Even though it resists your shadows, you can probably take the Sneasel out in one or two hits, but you wouldn't bet on it doing any worse than you on that front.
Winter, like you, faces a nasty type matchup. This is bad. Your plan to strike the human is probably best, so you jump backwards to make distance from the Sneasel, gather your hatred in your palm, and launch it directly at the red-haired boy… who actually dodges to the side! Quite acrobatically too, at least for a human. You are begrudgingly impressed, though you know that under concentrated fire you'll be able to tag him and even a single hit is liable to do enough damage to end the fight. But if you do that, you'll be ignoring the Dark type… and you don't want Winter to lose her battle either!
What a horrible situation. Having a partner is new, but otherwise this is… disturbingly nostalgic.
Comments
Alberto Sanchez
Have you considered 'per creation billing'? Seems easier than trying to force yourself to adhere to a schedule your creative process currently seems to be incompatible with
A Giant Crab
hop onto discord! the quest is still ongoing
Mantarok1205
Wat? That's all? It was just getting good!
