Through the crack of the locker, Hibiki could see Red unlock the door and open it, revealing Brendan and Blue in the hallway. As expected, Brendan wore the same green beanie, red shirt, and black pants that Kenta had always posed in. He looked upon Red with wonder, but there was a good-natured smile on his face. Hibiki guessed that Brendan could be easily likeable as a person.
"Wow . . . it's really you. I really am sorry, but this is literally the only time I will have to meet you, Red. I've been wanting to talk for so long . . ."
"(Kenta?)" Hibiki whispered to the wall on his left.
"(Yeah?)"
"(Why did you shove us in here?)"
"(I panicked. It happens.)"
"(So what's Red supposed to do?)" Hibiki asked, as Red shut the door on an injured-looking Blue.
"(I'll let him handle Brendan. I trust him.)"
"(My legs are starting to cramp.)"
"(Suck it up, runt. You've got more space than me.)"
"(But-)"
"(Seriously, dude, hush up. Let's hear what Brendan's saying.)"
Red had moved to sit down on a bench along the wall, which had escaped Hibiki's notice until now. Brendan joined him, legs apart and hands clasped together in front. By the tone of his voice, he still hadn't gotten over his awe of Red.
"-hiding for that long! What made you decide to come back?"
"Japan needed me," sighed Red. "Plus, rumor has it that whoever wins this tournament not only wins the prize money, but gets his original Master team back."
Brendan laughed nervously. "Where did you hear that?"
"A little Pidgey told me."
This is my first time hearing that, thought Hibiki. Sheesh. Every time I think I'm in the loop, there's another surprise.
"Ah, well . . ." Brendan scratched the back of his head, still uncomfortable. "I didn't think that rumor would spread so quickly. Between you and me, it's only half-true. You do get your pokémon, but only on the condition that you join the Black Ops."
Red turned his face toward Brendan, smiling grimly. "I hope you realize that I'm going to get my pokémon back, either way. This just seemed like the most direct route."
Brendan shrugged, looking away as if disinterested. "I admire your spirit, and I'm sure that you can kick up a hell of a firestorm if you mean to. But I've had months to see firsthand how deep G.R.I.P. has sunk its roots."
Red stared at him for a long moment. "Who do you think I am?" he asked in a soft voice, which nevertheless carried the hardness of iron.
"Oh, I have no question about that," said Brendan, gazing at his hands. "You're the strongest trainer in the known world. Stronger than me, stronger than Blue- hell, stronger than Steven and Lance. But I'm telling you, it doesn't matter anymore."
"Of course it matters!" Red said angrily, his voice rising. "Would I have come out of hiding if it didn't matter? G.R.I.P. has woken a sleeping giant, my friend!"
"I'm not G.R.I.P.," replied Brendan patiently. "I'm just the observer who sometimes gives them annoying suggestions. But let me put this into perspective for you. We've both become champions by fighting five elite trainers in a row, right?"
Red looked like he wanted to say something else, but he swallowed and nodded.
"Well, going against G.R.I.P. is like fighting a slightly-weaker Elite Four, only they're actually the Elite Four Thousand, you don't get breaks in between to heal, and they all come at you at the same time." Brendan paused for a second and thought. "Oh, and if you lose- excuse me, when you lose- you go to jail."
Brendan crossed his arms, leaned his back against the wall, and looked at Red meaningfully. For a second, Hibiki noticed Red glance at his locker, before sighing and looking away.
"So," Red muttered quietly, "that's how it is, is it? Did they send you as an ambassador to tell me that?"
"Actually, no," said Brendan, eyes gazing at the ceiling. "I mean . . . yes, eventually, they would send someone you trust more than me. But it sounded to me like you needed to hear it now."
Red gave a contemptuous bark of laughter. "Do you approve of this situation?" he asked. "I'm just saying, you seem pretty resigned to it."
Brendan looked hurt. "I've been accused of that more times than you know," he said, his posture now shrunken and withdrawn. "And no- I don't like G.R.I.P. I don't know anybody who does, outside of their payroll. But I'm familiar with the extent of their power, and there's no contesting it."
"So you haven't done anything?" pressed Red.
Brendan gave him an odd look, which Hibiki, from his locker, couldn't interpret. As he watched, the Hoenn Champion picked one of the pokeballs from his belt and widened it.
"Arturia. Come."
In a flash of light, a green-and-white pokémon with a flowing dress stood at the room's center- a Gardevoir. Hibiki instantly noticed that there was a thin blue collar around her neck with blinking lights, which obviously wasn't part of her original anatomy.
"You called, Master?" she asked- or rather, the feminine voice from the collar spoke. Red's mouth fell open. For the first time since he had entered the room, Brendan grinned again, and his smile was wide. "Pretty cool, huh?" he said proudly. "I've been working on this with a guy in Devon Corporation. It's supposed to translate pokémon speech to Japanese, and this is the latest prototype."
Red stared at Arturia, and she blinked at him. "You are speechless," she said, in a gentle but relatively-emotionless voice. "That is natural. Take some time to collect your thoughts."
"The talk-collar isn't exactly a new concept," Brendan continued excitedly, "but it only works on Gardevoir at this time. I think it's because they're psychic and have empathic abilities that already nearly match human minds."
Red opened his mouth, covered it, and turned away from Brendan and Arturia. Turning back to them again, he wiped his face and brushed a hand through his hair, still looking stunned. "I've been away too long," he finally mumbled, unable to keep his eyes focused anywhere for more than a second. Arturia placed a paw on his shoulder.
"Please sit down. Your coordination is impaired."
Nodding, Red allowed himself to be steered into a seating position on the bench. He looked weakly at Brendan. "I've heard pokémon talk before. But this is the first time I've seen it done to common . . . well, relatively common pokémon."
"I know, right?" said Brendan, grinning ear-to-ear. "We're still refining it, but I've got a vision all mapped out. One day in the near future, hundreds of Gardevoir will have the same speech ability. It'll be like Chobits, only they'll have souls!"
Brendan raised a finger and winked. "You asked what I've done in the wake of G.R.I.P.'s rise to power. The answer is, I've looked for creative methods to return things to the way they were, with the least change possible. Well, so far, this is my best answer! You gotta admit, it was dangerous and borderline stupid in the past to allow ten-year-old children to travel through the wilderness with strangers and superpowered monsters. But if every new trainer had a Gardevoir chaperone, think of how much risk would be alleviated. They could have a guide and low-maintenence protector until they found their footing."
"That's . . . well that's . . . hmm." Red placed a hand over his mouth once again.
"Master." Arturia turned, and to Hibiki's shock, stared right in his direction. "I detect a great deal of stress from that direction."
"Huh?" Brendan looked where she was looking. "The lockers?"
"Indeed. Specifically, that person fears what may happen if human primal urges should conquer them during journeys with other Gardevoir."
"Primal-?" Brendan shook his head, and his face grew stern. "Never mind. Red! There's someone in the lockers!"
Arturia looked upon Red with her giant eyes. "He knows."
"What?" Brendan halted in mid-stride and stared back at Red. "What is she talking about?"
Red tensed, and for a moment, Hibiki wondered if he would summon his Charizard and trap Brendan. However, Red relaxed his body and slumped his shoulders in defeat. "It's no use, Gold," he sighed. "We let down our guard. You may as well come out now."
Crap, thought Hibiki. After all this trouble! Now what are we gonna do?
The locker next to him clanged. There was a short silence, then it clanged again. Then Kenta spoke, sounding embarrassed.
"I, uh . . . think I'm stuck. Can you get it, please?"
Brendan gave Red a suspicious look, and reached out, unlatching the locker. "Alright, what's going-?"
He went completely silent. Light poured suddenly into Hibiki's locker as Red released him, and he climbed stiffly out just in time to see Brendan gawking at his body double. There, lying in the locker like a vampire in its coffin, was a person with the same head beanie, same red shirt, and the same black pants. He smiled guiltily and wiggled his fingers at Brendan.
"Hi. Nice to meet ya."
Brendan raised his eyebrows. "Who the hell are you?"
Red cleared his throat timidly. "Brendan. Do you remember how you were just calling me the world's strongest trainer, better than yourself, Blue, and Steven?"
" . . . Yeah."
"This is the guy who beat me."
"Wow . . . it's really you. I really am sorry, but this is literally the only time I will have to meet you, Red. I've been wanting to talk for so long . . ."
"(Kenta?)" Hibiki whispered to the wall on his left.
"(Yeah?)"
"(Why did you shove us in here?)"
"(I panicked. It happens.)"
"(So what's Red supposed to do?)" Hibiki asked, as Red shut the door on an injured-looking Blue.
"(I'll let him handle Brendan. I trust him.)"
"(My legs are starting to cramp.)"
"(Suck it up, runt. You've got more space than me.)"
"(But-)"
"(Seriously, dude, hush up. Let's hear what Brendan's saying.)"
Red had moved to sit down on a bench along the wall, which had escaped Hibiki's notice until now. Brendan joined him, legs apart and hands clasped together in front. By the tone of his voice, he still hadn't gotten over his awe of Red.
"-hiding for that long! What made you decide to come back?"
"Japan needed me," sighed Red. "Plus, rumor has it that whoever wins this tournament not only wins the prize money, but gets his original Master team back."
Brendan laughed nervously. "Where did you hear that?"
"A little Pidgey told me."
This is my first time hearing that, thought Hibiki. Sheesh. Every time I think I'm in the loop, there's another surprise.
"Ah, well . . ." Brendan scratched the back of his head, still uncomfortable. "I didn't think that rumor would spread so quickly. Between you and me, it's only half-true. You do get your pokémon, but only on the condition that you join the Black Ops."
Red turned his face toward Brendan, smiling grimly. "I hope you realize that I'm going to get my pokémon back, either way. This just seemed like the most direct route."
Brendan shrugged, looking away as if disinterested. "I admire your spirit, and I'm sure that you can kick up a hell of a firestorm if you mean to. But I've had months to see firsthand how deep G.R.I.P. has sunk its roots."
Red stared at him for a long moment. "Who do you think I am?" he asked in a soft voice, which nevertheless carried the hardness of iron.
"Oh, I have no question about that," said Brendan, gazing at his hands. "You're the strongest trainer in the known world. Stronger than me, stronger than Blue- hell, stronger than Steven and Lance. But I'm telling you, it doesn't matter anymore."
"Of course it matters!" Red said angrily, his voice rising. "Would I have come out of hiding if it didn't matter? G.R.I.P. has woken a sleeping giant, my friend!"
"I'm not G.R.I.P.," replied Brendan patiently. "I'm just the observer who sometimes gives them annoying suggestions. But let me put this into perspective for you. We've both become champions by fighting five elite trainers in a row, right?"
Red looked like he wanted to say something else, but he swallowed and nodded.
"Well, going against G.R.I.P. is like fighting a slightly-weaker Elite Four, only they're actually the Elite Four Thousand, you don't get breaks in between to heal, and they all come at you at the same time." Brendan paused for a second and thought. "Oh, and if you lose- excuse me, when you lose- you go to jail."
Brendan crossed his arms, leaned his back against the wall, and looked at Red meaningfully. For a second, Hibiki noticed Red glance at his locker, before sighing and looking away.
"So," Red muttered quietly, "that's how it is, is it? Did they send you as an ambassador to tell me that?"
"Actually, no," said Brendan, eyes gazing at the ceiling. "I mean . . . yes, eventually, they would send someone you trust more than me. But it sounded to me like you needed to hear it now."
Red gave a contemptuous bark of laughter. "Do you approve of this situation?" he asked. "I'm just saying, you seem pretty resigned to it."
Brendan looked hurt. "I've been accused of that more times than you know," he said, his posture now shrunken and withdrawn. "And no- I don't like G.R.I.P. I don't know anybody who does, outside of their payroll. But I'm familiar with the extent of their power, and there's no contesting it."
"So you haven't done anything?" pressed Red.
Brendan gave him an odd look, which Hibiki, from his locker, couldn't interpret. As he watched, the Hoenn Champion picked one of the pokeballs from his belt and widened it.
"Arturia. Come."
In a flash of light, a green-and-white pokémon with a flowing dress stood at the room's center- a Gardevoir. Hibiki instantly noticed that there was a thin blue collar around her neck with blinking lights, which obviously wasn't part of her original anatomy.
"You called, Master?" she asked- or rather, the feminine voice from the collar spoke. Red's mouth fell open. For the first time since he had entered the room, Brendan grinned again, and his smile was wide. "Pretty cool, huh?" he said proudly. "I've been working on this with a guy in Devon Corporation. It's supposed to translate pokémon speech to Japanese, and this is the latest prototype."
Red stared at Arturia, and she blinked at him. "You are speechless," she said, in a gentle but relatively-emotionless voice. "That is natural. Take some time to collect your thoughts."
"The talk-collar isn't exactly a new concept," Brendan continued excitedly, "but it only works on Gardevoir at this time. I think it's because they're psychic and have empathic abilities that already nearly match human minds."
Red opened his mouth, covered it, and turned away from Brendan and Arturia. Turning back to them again, he wiped his face and brushed a hand through his hair, still looking stunned. "I've been away too long," he finally mumbled, unable to keep his eyes focused anywhere for more than a second. Arturia placed a paw on his shoulder.
"Please sit down. Your coordination is impaired."
Nodding, Red allowed himself to be steered into a seating position on the bench. He looked weakly at Brendan. "I've heard pokémon talk before. But this is the first time I've seen it done to common . . . well, relatively common pokémon."
"I know, right?" said Brendan, grinning ear-to-ear. "We're still refining it, but I've got a vision all mapped out. One day in the near future, hundreds of Gardevoir will have the same speech ability. It'll be like Chobits, only they'll have souls!"
Brendan raised a finger and winked. "You asked what I've done in the wake of G.R.I.P.'s rise to power. The answer is, I've looked for creative methods to return things to the way they were, with the least change possible. Well, so far, this is my best answer! You gotta admit, it was dangerous and borderline stupid in the past to allow ten-year-old children to travel through the wilderness with strangers and superpowered monsters. But if every new trainer had a Gardevoir chaperone, think of how much risk would be alleviated. They could have a guide and low-maintenence protector until they found their footing."
"That's . . . well that's . . . hmm." Red placed a hand over his mouth once again.
"Master." Arturia turned, and to Hibiki's shock, stared right in his direction. "I detect a great deal of stress from that direction."
"Huh?" Brendan looked where she was looking. "The lockers?"
"Indeed. Specifically, that person fears what may happen if human primal urges should conquer them during journeys with other Gardevoir."
"Primal-?" Brendan shook his head, and his face grew stern. "Never mind. Red! There's someone in the lockers!"
Arturia looked upon Red with her giant eyes. "He knows."
"What?" Brendan halted in mid-stride and stared back at Red. "What is she talking about?"
Red tensed, and for a moment, Hibiki wondered if he would summon his Charizard and trap Brendan. However, Red relaxed his body and slumped his shoulders in defeat. "It's no use, Gold," he sighed. "We let down our guard. You may as well come out now."
Crap, thought Hibiki. After all this trouble! Now what are we gonna do?
The locker next to him clanged. There was a short silence, then it clanged again. Then Kenta spoke, sounding embarrassed.
"I, uh . . . think I'm stuck. Can you get it, please?"
Brendan gave Red a suspicious look, and reached out, unlatching the locker. "Alright, what's going-?"
He went completely silent. Light poured suddenly into Hibiki's locker as Red released him, and he climbed stiffly out just in time to see Brendan gawking at his body double. There, lying in the locker like a vampire in its coffin, was a person with the same head beanie, same red shirt, and the same black pants. He smiled guiltily and wiggled his fingers at Brendan.
"Hi. Nice to meet ya."
Brendan raised his eyebrows. "Who the hell are you?"
Red cleared his throat timidly. "Brendan. Do you remember how you were just calling me the world's strongest trainer, better than yourself, Blue, and Steven?"
" . . . Yeah."
"This is the guy who beat me."