Title: Claret, by Eminai
Chapter 2: To Dawn
Report Entry: 201
Date: June 5
It has been three months ago since the subject was retrieved. What once seemed like a project doomed to fail is now blossoming. It showed positive responses to Project D.O’s modified DNA. In fact our subject provided D.O with the necessary life force to withstand completion of the cloning process. Is this it? Have we acquired a giver of life? The secret must be in its blood. I shall conclude for now because more research is in order.
Dr. Hawkings, Head of the Regeneration and Cloning Department, TR Science Supervisor
***
“Mom, he’s not a crazy guy!” Thomas shouted back fervently with half his body in his room and the other half in the hall.
“Thomas E. Gregson, don’t use that tone with me!” warned a stout woman with her usual caring face crinkled in anger.
“Just because I missed twenty minutes of class-“
“You are throwing your education out the window for a crippled old man-“
“He’s not crippled!”
“Now honey, I’m sure Tom has a good explanation to visit Mr. Haru,” reasoned a voice from the video phone propped next to the computer. In the screen was the face of man with combed navy hair and warm brown eyes that would remind one of chocolate. Agitated, the stout woman rounded on him.
“Mathew, your son skipped school!”
“It was the last day,” Thomas began to explain.
The man on the phone sighed and said calmly, “Now now, Tom, within twenty minutes could be valuable information-“
“We’ve been repeating the same thing over and over again! Truthfully Mom, I’m not missing anything. And Dad, can I please go this year? Everyone else is going-“
“No!” Mrs. Gregson intervened. “Absolutely not! If you don’t have enough responsibility to make by in school, then you certainly don’t have enough responsibility to go on those dreadful journeys!”
Mr. Gregson sighed and rubbed his temples. “Tom, I’ll have to agree with your mother on this one. I went on a journey when I was ten and nearly died the first week.”
“But Dad, you got better-“
“I know I did. But back then things were a lot safer. Now there are rumors of gangs and corruption in the government. I simply cannot risk it; you will stay until we feel that the things have calmed down a bit. Even the Pokémon League Elite Trainers are saying the same thing-“
“Dad, most of them don’t have kids so how can they-“
“Don’t interrupt, Tom. Please, if you’re not going to listen to anything we say, at least listen to them,” pleaded the man. Thomas felt his voice dwindling like the many times before when this particular subject came up. The boy simply wished to have his parents trust him; however, it was getting to a desperate point.
Another voice came onto the phone.
“Hm? Mr. Gregson, are you having a nice chat with your family?”
“Oh, why, good afternoon Lance,” replied the man.
Thomas’ heart skipped a beat upon hearing the name. He leaned out of his haven for a look and indeed it was the famed Champion. Even in the digital screen, there was no suppressing the air of power and awe that surrounded the man. Donned in his black and crimson league attire, the red-haired Lance was a sight to behold. His black gaze, though warm, was piercing, and Thomas could’ve sworn that the Champion’s eyes went straight through his soul.
“Yes, I am. Lance, you believe you have met my wife Larissa.”
Mrs. Gregson gave a polite smile as Lance nodded back.
“And in the background there would be my son Thomas.”
“Ah, the one aspiring to be a trainer.”
“Actually, he hasn’t decided yet,” Mr. Gregson admitted.
Thomas ripped his hazel eyes away from Lance and pressed, “Can I at least keep Gale then?”
His mother made a strange half-laughing half-choking noise before responding, “No. That Pidgey is nothing but trouble. It could be carrying some sort of disease. We don’t even know if it’s-“
“Mom, nothing in the wild is primed and perfect and ready to be groomed,” Thomas snapped.
Mrs. Gregson seemed quite taken back at this then said curtly, “Watch your image young man. There’s a very important figure on the phone with your father-“
“Image, image, image! That’s the only thing you think of! Look Mom, I want to go on a journey whether you like it or not! And no, Gale is not contagious. In fact he’s the healthiest Pidgey in Suna, and Ratata are not scum. It’s pronounced Swee-coon, and yes I will meet one before I die. Mr. Haru is not a cripple, he’s awesome, and he’s the only one that cares. Yes Mom, you look fat in that skirt. Dad, pick a side for once. I will get out of this cursed town and get a trainer’s license. And just because they are not trained doesn’t make Pokémon scrounging pests! Why am I telling you guys this? You won’t understand. You’ll never understand because I have the stupidest parents in the entire universe!” Thomas ranted in one breath then forcefully slammed his bedroom door shut.
An awkward silence filled the room.
“… You have a lovely son, Mr. Gregson,” Lance said.
-
If there was ever a hobby that Thomas prided himself in, it was in the imitation of Pokémon. The way they called and conversed, the way they walked, the way their society was formed, the way they scurried about in the wild grasses; he knew how to mimic fifty Pokémon species by heart, and the rest were recorded as data in a private journal. If his mind was unclouded, then Thomas would’ve been proud of himself. His lip curled menacingly, showing his serrated canines. A deep growling noise rose from his throat, and his breaths came in short, huffs of fury. With suppressed rage in his steps, the boy paced around the room in a hurried trot. His eyes were bright like wildfire. Anything that came into his glare seemed to burst into an invisible flame.
For five minutes he was like that, a Mightyena whose territory has been invaded.
“They’ll never understand…” Thomas growled. “Never.”
The last word was spat with so much remorse that in an instant, his wolf-like prowl instantly dissolved into the slithering of a hooded Arbok. Hissing and with strings of venomous curses upon his lips, the boy leered into the mirror. Surprisingly, it did not crack. He fingers coiled around the lumpy package and tore it upon, leaving bits of wrapping paper scattered across the floor. Thomas was back to human as black cloth fell into his hands.
It was an outfit, one like the typical wear of trainers these days. There was a beret-like cap with a strange red insignia on it. The same symbol was sewn into a sleeveless shirt, finger-less gloves, and baggy jeans. Something else was in the parcel as well: a pair of crimson tennis shoes, perfect for hikes and long treks across an unknown world. A black bag which vaguely resembled a backpack was also included. Gingerly, Thomas felt inside the pack, and his heart leapt as he brushed against a belt. It was smooth and leather-like with six sockets; a flawless fit for Pokeballs.
Without hesitation he pulled off his school outfit, threw them upon the bed, and then slipped into his new garments. It took him awhile to find how the belt worked, and after he was done, Thomas took a furtive glance in the mirror. For some reason the ravens and reds cloaked not only his body but his mask; a mask that everyone wore to impress and to blend into a world they did not belong in. This was him, staring back from the reflection. Noting was faked; nothing was tacked on nor imitated. A smile lit up the boy’s face.
“All I need now is night…” he muttered to himself before brushing the bangs that fell in front his eyes. To his horror, his brown hair fell off into his hands. His eyes wide, Thomas stared back into the mirror again to find hair crimson as blood. With trembling hands the boy gingerly removed his hat and rubbed the top of his head. Like before, the mousy brown molted off, and five minutes later, the brunette was a redhead. Thomas blinked then leaned in closer for a better look at his eyes. In their stead were emerald pupils, dilated with wonder and shock.
“… Oh sweet mother of Mew…”
He gulped then placed the hat back on his head. “At least now no one would recognize me…” Thomas mumbled before giving his hair one last pat.
-
“Psst.”
“What?”
“Do you think he’s coming?”
“Of course he is. Father said so.”
“But, I don’t hear him-“
“Sh! … He’s here.”
-
A less-traveled dirt road was all there was to connect Pallet Town to its close neighbor Suna. Constant breeze from the sea smoothed it, leaving no indications that the road was used at all. However, tonight, it was different. Fresh new shoe prints studded into the path with intent to begin the rest of its life.
A lab on a green hill was oblivious to all of this. Shamed of its size compared to Suna Hill, this mound cloaked itself with midnight’s jacket. The laboratory which sat on top of it was also dim, gray, and dark. The good Professor who lived there made sure all lights were off, and he went to sleep with glorious dreams, unaware that a shadow flitted passed his window. Some bushes rustled but not in the wind. There was a crunching sound of footsteps on grass and labored breathing. Then the shadow darted along, its shoes barely making a sound. Its gloved hands ran along the side of the smooth wall, feeling for any crack, anything that would give. After a fruitless three-sixty check, the shadow slithered towards a window. He pried it open; the newly-made entrance was no bigger than a vent. Undeterred, the shadow squeezed through, inching into the facility like a probe. He slid onto the ground, and after a few minutes of listening and watching, the shadow dashed towards a room nearby.
“Not it…” the shadow grumbled as it left the utility room. He chose a room on the right then shook his head at the sight of bookshelves and novels. “No.”
The pattern was repeated over and over as the shadow opened countless doors. Still, there was no sign of it. Panting, the shadow grasped a doorknob on the left and swung it open.
At first he thought it was the wrong room again. There was a white table, a couple of red devices sitting on a counter nearby, and a few packages that seemed to read ‘Starter Kits’. The wallpaper was white, and the ground was slick, smooth tiles. A medicinal smell hung around the room which mixed into another scent of freshly mopped floors. However, as his eyes went back to the table, he saw it and his heart leapt a mile into the air.
Sitting comfortably on the table were four round spheres. Each was the same size of his palm and shone in the moonlight that poured from a window above. The top part was a soft shade of red while the bottom was a glazed white. In the middle a black stripe surrounded the center and a circle with a switch upon it. Delicately the shadow picked up one and felt it with his fingers.
“Wow…”
His emerald eyes went to the red devices. He picked one, though they all looked the same, and gently placed it in his pack. His attention was back on the Pokeballs. He circled the table, muttering and admiring at the same time.
“Can only pick one…” Thomas reminded himself with disappointment. His hand hovered over one on the left then, wavering, it jumped to the one on the right. “Ah… C’mon… Just grab one and go… Okay, it’s easy… Charmander, Squirtle, Bulbasaur, and Pikachu… Alright… Charmander has good attacks… But Squirtle’s defense is not that bad… Bulbasaur’s a dual type so it might manage… Yet Pikachu is really good at the speed department… Gah! Why does it have to be so hard?!”
He quickly covered his mouth but too late. Nearby, a light flickered on and a sleepy voice called, “Is anyone there?”
Silently Thomas shook his head. He casted a desperate glance at the Pokeballs then, without even thinking, he took all four of them and stuffed them in his pack. The light drew closer along with the owner of the tired voice. Thomas’ heart started pound in his chest, and the boy threw a glimpse at a nearby window. Its shutters blocked out the light from the stars, and in the dark, the boy crawled towards it with his prizes in tow.
“Hello? …”
“Ugh Tracey, what is it?”
“Professor, I think I heard someone’s voice coming from the storage room.”
“Hm…”
Thomas wasted no more time. He fumbled with the shutter’s lock and by the chance of a miracle, it clicked open and the shutters gently blew apart. Hastily the boy climbed through the window, and with an ungraceful landing, he was off again to the dirt path.
-
The tranquil night sky draped over the tiny town with stars and a sleepy moon. Gently, a breeze blew past the grass and rustled the leaves above. A wandering Pidgey hopped around, his purple eyes deep and bright. Slightly he ruffled his feathers.
Something was coming.
He held his tiny head up high, observing every twitch in the grass, filled with a quiet hope. It has been weeks since his last visit. Was he finally here?
The grass shuddered, and the Pidgey withdrew back into the safety of the shadows.
It wasn’t him. It was something larger, something that brought a deathly chill upon the warm summer night.
At last moment’s instinct, the Pidgey took off. His talons dug into the moist dirt as he ran while his wings were smashed against his sides. The tall blades of grass parted swiftly, and the Pidgey pressed on.
Suddenly, there it was: voices of at least a dozen men and the rumbling of an engine. The voices were harsh, screaming orders at everyone and everything. Two men, donned in black, raced into the night and stopped at the view of the small town.
“There it is… You actually think that it’s here?”
“’Search every city and town near the Southern Kanto Sea.’ Those were our orders. Men, let’s move out!”
-
At first, Thomas thought he had strayed off the path and came into a different town. However, a glance at a charred sign which read ‘Suna’ caused his pulse to quicken and an unsettling feeling to grow in his stomach. Without a second thought he charged into the broken town, his mind in a haze. Glass from the shattered windows were scattered everywhere, and the houses looked as if an Aerodactyl ravaged them. Heavy footprints, toppled trees, and holes on the sides of buildings littered the town. Burned roofs reached towards a smoky sky, praying for salvation. Below, Thomas’ fear whipped him, and he ran passed the ransacked shops. Several street lamps were piled ahead, blocking the boy’s way. He sharply veered left, hoping that another route was open. More wrecked streets were passed including one that looked like an earthquake had obliterated it. All of this was lit by the flare of distant fires, and a chorus of screams, sobs, and yells filled the dark sky.
“Please be okay,” Thomas begged as he ran up a familiar dirt path. His blood froze as he saw the cottage with missing windows and tiny holes on the door. The usual perfume-like smoke was absent, and the two pines, once in glory, were fallen. The boy caught the door handle and swung it open, panting anxiously.
“Mr. Haru!”
A slight groan answered him, and at once, Thomas felt his heart ease.
“Thomas?” a faint voice asked.
“Don’t worry, I’m coming,” the boy replied at once and continued into the house, his new boots thudding against the floor. “Where are you?”
“Thomas, it’s best if you leave. You do not want to see me like this, and those Team Rocket members might come back…”
“They did this?” Thomas asked as he followed the sound of the voice. His heart rate was up again; Mr. Hara sounded like he was going to…
Furiously, Thomas shook his head and mentally yelled at himself to think positive thoughts. He crept cautiously to the bedroom. The wooden door was closed and emblazoned with three new holes, each the size of a thumb. Behind it, ragged breaths were heard. With shivering hands, the boy gently opened the door, dreading the next few minutes.
The walls were splattered in crimson which dripped to the floor. More holes punctured the floor and ceiling like an invisible grid. Mr. Haru lied beside his bed, his clothes stained red, and a small smile came upon his face as Thomas entered.
“I see… You have your outfit on already,” the man said weakly. Thomas kneeled by him, wondering what to do. He doubt the hospital would help; he saw a fire near that direction as he was running.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Haru, I’ll… I’ll think of-“
“No. You can’t stay here. Thomas,” Mr. Haru explained, “there are some things you must do. Trust me, you have to go… Now.”
He suddenly stopped; there were sirens blaring in the background.
“Please, Thomas…”
The boy glanced at Mr. Haru then at the door with his mind racing. Mr. Haru, the only one who cared, the only one that supported him that no one else would, was bleeding… possibly to his death. Team Rocket was still out there in a rage of destruction, drinking in all of the chaos as if it was a refreshing sip of tea. The police were coming, completely armed, and he had stolen Pokeballs in his pack. Mr. Haru… Team Rocket… Police…
Thomas bowed his head. “Mr. Haru… I promise that when I’m the greatest… the greatest anything… the greatest everything… the complete master at whatever involves Pokémon, I’ll come back. But you have to promise that you’ll still be here!” the boy pleaded, his emerald eyes beseeching the man’s consent. The man’s kind face shone as he beamed in agreement.
“All right. It’s a promise… But let’s make this a challenge, shall we? If I recover before you’re a master then you’ll do me a favor, anything that I request for. However, if you become a master before I am healed, I will give you anything: a Masterball, a Pokémon, you name it. Deal?” And feebly, he held out a bandaged hand. Thomas stared at this. A smile broke through his cloudy mind, and the boy shook with the strength of a man.
“Deal.”
Shouldering his pack, the boy then adjusted his gloves and cap. He opened the door, paused… then ran. His boots now thundered along in the dirt path, and his breaths came short and determined. Passed the town and the once familiar roads he sprinted, leaving behind nothing more than a set of heavy footprints. The wrecked houses started to dwindle. Signs were ignored, and the sirens started to fade. By now he was shooting through the tall field grass, leaving the path. Vegetation crunched under his shoes, the fresh cool breeze blew against his back, urging him to continue…
The sky turned from navy to a foggy, pre-morning blue. Towards the east, something beyond the horizon glowed. And Thomas still ran in the direction of the rising sun.
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