“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” whimpered Hibiki, fumbling with the cloak and finally wrapping it around himself, “we’re so busted! We’re going to be arrested already, before we even get to do anything!”
“Pull yourself together, Hibiki!” barked Kenta sternly. Hibiki immediately fell silent, and Kenta pointed down at a nearby clearing of trees, indicating Bolt to land. “Don’t worry,” he said more gently over his shoulder. “It takes a cop to know a cop. I can handle this. Deal with him firmly, and don’t show fear for a second. Keep your face covered. We’re going down.”
Once both parties had landed and dismounted from their respective pokémon, the officer approached Kenta and Hibiki with a hint of a smirk on his face. “Smart boys,” he said briskly, “you knew you wouldn’t be able to outrace a Pidgeot.” He held out his badge. “Now! Which one of you fellas wants to tell me how you came by a Salamence at such a time as this?”
“He’s mine, sir,” said Kenta, standing stiffly at attention. The policeman sneered at him. “Not for long, he isn’t. Don’t you watch the news, kid? Aren’t you aware that you’re breaking the law by being in possession of an overpowered pokémon? It’s been the news for almost sixty days! Even lower law enforcement officers aren’t permitted those.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” said Kenta loudly, adopting the same official tone as the officer. “Bolt is my friend, not my possession. At any time he wants, he can leave me and return to the wild.”
The cop’s eyes narrowed. “Now look here, smartass,” he said more dangerously, pointing a finger at Kenta’s face, “you’re in enough trouble already. Cheeking the police doesn’t help your cause. Let’s see some identification before you go and make any more wrong moves.”
Hibiki glanced at Kenta fearfully, but Kenta’s expression didn’t change. He only shrugged. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have it on me.”
The officer was quiet for a moment, then turned on Hibiki. “And you?”
“N-no.”
“I see.” The cop removed his cap, scratched his balding head. He replaced it, wearing a mock-pitying expression on his face. “Well, I’m sorry to say this, but I’m going to have to ask you two boys to come with me to the nearest police station. But before you do that, please hand over the Salamence’s pokeball.”
At this, a smile appeared on Kenta’s face for the first time since landing. “Again, I’m sorry sir. I don’t have it on me.”
The other man’s eyes narrowed. “Where is it, then?”
“It’s actually in a lot of places, by now,” Kenta responded, picking up his foot and examining underneath. “There’s probably even a little bit still stuck in the sole of my shoe. What do you think? Can you still see a piece? Something keeps sticking my foot whenever I walk, and it’s bugging the hell out of me.”
The officer’s expression changed to one of mild bewilderment, and to Hibiki, it seemed like his first show of weakness. “You smashed it?” he asked disbelievingly. Kenta nodded, and his jolly grin was suddenly gone as swiftly as it had come. “Yes. And would you like to know why?” he asked, subtle danger now echoing in his own tone. Hibiki took an involuntary step backwards; he had never seen Kenta this way before. There was anger, and then there was ferocity. Kenta balanced between the two with chilling composure, and it made Hibiki shudder involuntarily.
“Because I don’t like it when my friends are stolen away from me. It’s one thing if they leave on their own will; I can accept that. But when they’re kidnapped, and I have no say in the matter . . .” Kenta’s eyes flashed, and Hibiki saw the cop reaching for his utility belt. “Well, I tend to stop thinking about the consequences of my actions. Emotion trumps reason. What is law crumbles to what is right.”
“No more threatening language out of you, or I shoot,” the officer warned, holding his tazer out at Kenta. Eying the weapon, Kenta let out a short laugh and turned so that he faced the cop sideways. “Ha. Big man, with his electric gun. Getting back to my little rant . . .” He pointed to the pokeballs on the policeman’s belt. “I know how the tagging system works. You’d have taken away all my pokémon if I hadn’t beaten you to the punch. No genie without a lamp, you know what I’m saying?”
Hibiki heard a crackling noise and saw Kenta twitch; the officer had activated the tazer. However, instead of falling to the ground in a fit of spasms, Kenta remained on his feet, a death-glare burning on his face. “But you did manage to take the friend I’d known the longest,” he hissed, clenching his hands into fists. “And God only knows where he is now, and what you people are doing to him. Give him back.”
The officer activated the tazer again. Kenta didn’t even blink this time. “Give Bakuphoon back to me. He’s not your tool for control. He’s my valuable friend!”
Kenta really wants his Typhlosion back, thought Hibiki, watching unblinkingly as the two officers stood off. I was never a trainer, so I can’t fully appreciate the bond they must’ve had. Still, Kenta’s serious about this. He’s like a mad mother Ursaring right now, who’s lost her cub.
“Why isn’t this working,” mumbled the officer, staring down at his tazer and shaking it. Replacing the stun gun in its holster, he drew out a pokeball instead, looking at Kenta with the face of a cornered animal. “I don’t know what you are,” he snarled, “but electricity-immune or not, you’ve broken several laws and resisted arrest.” The patrolman tossed his pokeball onto the ground, and in a burst of light, an enormous brown creature with layered hide like knight’s armor appeared. Hibiki recognized it immediately as a Tyranitar, and he swallowed painfully as it let out a deafening roar. “The Dragonite of the Johto Region,” Kenta had called it. At minimum, the monster was at level fifty-five, and would’ve learned some of its most devastating moves by now. The average pokémon trainer would’ve been considered tough with level thirty pokémon on his team, but this was simply overkill.
Kenta observed his foe’s pokémon coolly as dirt rose out of the ground around the Tyranitar and burst apart into sand-sized pieces. “Special ability: Sand Stream,” he muttered. “So then, these are the kinds of pokémon they’re letting you guys have today. You get your own climate and everything.”
“This is your last chance,” the officer demanded over the rushing din of the sandstorm. “Stand down, or I’ll order him to attack!”
Hibiki looked from Tyranitar to Kenta, and stared in surprise at his expression. It had changed again; now Kenta had a glint in his eye and a determined grin on his face. There was something nostalgic about the expression, and as he watched, Hibiki suddenly had a burst of vision from the past, as if he were looking at the sixteen-year-old version of Kenta again.
“Now that’s more like it,” beamed Kenta, taking a few steps back. “It sounds like you’ve just challenged me to a pokémon battle. I accept . . . and Bolt is my choice for this match!”
The cop pointed furiously at Kenta’s Salamence, as the enormous dragon pokémon flapped heavily forward and confronted Tyranitar. “Resisting arrest, you leave me no choice. Tyranitar, Rock Slide!”
“Bolt, Protect! Evade the stones!”
Never in his life had Hibiki seen a high-level pokémon match, at least not live. It reminded him of the old Godzilla cartoons he used to watch on television as a little kid. The Tyranitar’s enormous tail buried itself in the ground and lifted out rocks the size of watermelons as if they weighed nothing. Yet in spite of his size, Bolt wheeled skillfully around each and every stone as it was catapulted at him.
“Alright, time for the counterattack!” barked Kenta, pointing at the Tyranitar’s neck. “Strike below the chin! Aerial Ace!”
Immediately, Bolt disintegrated into thin air and reappeared directly in front of Tyranitar, speeding into him with the force of a small truck. The foe pokémon wheeled, but knelt and regained its balance a moment later. Kenta gritted his teeth in disappointment. “Darn it! We still missed.”
“Is that the best you’ve got?” roared the officer from the other side of the battlefield. In contrast to his stiff and formal attitude a moment ago, being in the heat of the fight was drawing out all of his human emotions that came with instinct. He, too, was alive with battle fury. “I see you’ve taught your Salamence a couple of TM moves. You’re not the only one, though. Tyranitar, slow them down with Thunder Wave!”
The great tank of an enemy pokémon raised its paws, and a shockwave of electricity pounded through the air towards Bolt’s side of the field. For a third time, Kenta withstood the electrical energy as if nothing had happened, but Bolt shuddered and flapped painfully to the ground, obviously stunned.
“Speed is our edge, and we’re not losing it!” barked Kenta. “Eat the berry, Bolt!”
“It’s too late, I have you now!” shouted the officer victoriously. “Tyranitar, take it down with Stone Edge!”
“Too slow!” Kenta retaliated, as Tyranitar lifted its great tail to full height to smash his Salamence. “Bolt, Brick Break!”
In a second’s time, Bolt skull-rammed Tyranitar in its diamond-shaped gut, twisting the foe’s body in a forced awkward angle. Then Tyranitar flew backwards with all the force of a falling meteor, slamming heavily into a pine tree with a resounding crack. With its back-spikes holding it fast to the wood, the great tank of a pokémon hung uselessly, unable to do anything but drop its head limply as consciousness left its body. To the three humans looking upon the defeated creature, it looked as though it had been crucified.
A spooky silence followed in the forest clearing as the sandstorm wore down, having nothing to keep it going. The defeated police officer gaped disbelievingly at his beaten Tyranitar, then with apparent effort, looked back at Kenta. Hibiki, who was too busy staring in shock at Bolt, also turned his attention to Kenta. Incredible, he thought, as Kenta walked up to his Salamence and rubbed its head with a jubilant smile. Between Bolt and Kenta, there’s an unfathomable amount of force on our side. We may really be able to pull this off, after all!
“People . . . people like you,” the policeman breathed, looking at Kenta with wide eyes, “you’re the reason we had to let G.R.I.P. take over trainers’ pokémon. It’s because of you rogue trainers, who defy authority with your power.”
“Not me,” said Kenta softly, scratching underneath Bolt’s neck while he looked at his fallen opponent. “It’s because of what G.R.I.P. has done, that I fight you. But I am not a criminal, and I can’t have you identifying me as one.” He glanced behind him, at Hibiki. “Come on over here.”
Hibiki began to move forward at the summon, but Munchlax waddled past him, and only then did he realize that Kenta had been calling the pokémon. However, Kenta’s eyes met his a moment later. “You too, Cloaked Assistant. I’ve got something to tell you.”
Kenta looked down at Munchlax, who was now standing beside him. He pointed at the officer, who was motioning to his Pidgeot and not looking at them. “Yawn.”
Munchlax’s mouth opened wide, and Hibiki saw a strange mist leave the fat little pokémon’s jaws. It blew over to the police officer and his Pidgeot, just as they were standing side-by-side. In an instant, both slumped to the ground, and the cop looked up at Kenta through half-closed eyes. “What . . . did you . . . do to me?”
“You’re going to sleep for a while,” Kenta responded cheerily, his usual smile back on his face. “No hard feelings, but you have to stay here for now. I don’t want you calling for backup as long as I’m still anywhere nearby.”
The patrol Pidgeot flapped its wings feebly, and Hibiki wondered if it was attempting a last-minute Whirlwind attack to keep out of danger. The officer’s eyelids drooped, yet he remained focused on Kenta with what little he had left of his consciousness.
“Who . . . are you?”
Kenta took a dramatic half-bow. “Why, I’m Brendan Birch of course.”
The officer could make no response. His body went limp, and he began to snore heavily.
“Pull yourself together, Hibiki!” barked Kenta sternly. Hibiki immediately fell silent, and Kenta pointed down at a nearby clearing of trees, indicating Bolt to land. “Don’t worry,” he said more gently over his shoulder. “It takes a cop to know a cop. I can handle this. Deal with him firmly, and don’t show fear for a second. Keep your face covered. We’re going down.”
Once both parties had landed and dismounted from their respective pokémon, the officer approached Kenta and Hibiki with a hint of a smirk on his face. “Smart boys,” he said briskly, “you knew you wouldn’t be able to outrace a Pidgeot.” He held out his badge. “Now! Which one of you fellas wants to tell me how you came by a Salamence at such a time as this?”
“He’s mine, sir,” said Kenta, standing stiffly at attention. The policeman sneered at him. “Not for long, he isn’t. Don’t you watch the news, kid? Aren’t you aware that you’re breaking the law by being in possession of an overpowered pokémon? It’s been the news for almost sixty days! Even lower law enforcement officers aren’t permitted those.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” said Kenta loudly, adopting the same official tone as the officer. “Bolt is my friend, not my possession. At any time he wants, he can leave me and return to the wild.”
The cop’s eyes narrowed. “Now look here, smartass,” he said more dangerously, pointing a finger at Kenta’s face, “you’re in enough trouble already. Cheeking the police doesn’t help your cause. Let’s see some identification before you go and make any more wrong moves.”
Hibiki glanced at Kenta fearfully, but Kenta’s expression didn’t change. He only shrugged. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have it on me.”
The officer was quiet for a moment, then turned on Hibiki. “And you?”
“N-no.”
“I see.” The cop removed his cap, scratched his balding head. He replaced it, wearing a mock-pitying expression on his face. “Well, I’m sorry to say this, but I’m going to have to ask you two boys to come with me to the nearest police station. But before you do that, please hand over the Salamence’s pokeball.”
At this, a smile appeared on Kenta’s face for the first time since landing. “Again, I’m sorry sir. I don’t have it on me.”
The other man’s eyes narrowed. “Where is it, then?”
“It’s actually in a lot of places, by now,” Kenta responded, picking up his foot and examining underneath. “There’s probably even a little bit still stuck in the sole of my shoe. What do you think? Can you still see a piece? Something keeps sticking my foot whenever I walk, and it’s bugging the hell out of me.”
The officer’s expression changed to one of mild bewilderment, and to Hibiki, it seemed like his first show of weakness. “You smashed it?” he asked disbelievingly. Kenta nodded, and his jolly grin was suddenly gone as swiftly as it had come. “Yes. And would you like to know why?” he asked, subtle danger now echoing in his own tone. Hibiki took an involuntary step backwards; he had never seen Kenta this way before. There was anger, and then there was ferocity. Kenta balanced between the two with chilling composure, and it made Hibiki shudder involuntarily.
“Because I don’t like it when my friends are stolen away from me. It’s one thing if they leave on their own will; I can accept that. But when they’re kidnapped, and I have no say in the matter . . .” Kenta’s eyes flashed, and Hibiki saw the cop reaching for his utility belt. “Well, I tend to stop thinking about the consequences of my actions. Emotion trumps reason. What is law crumbles to what is right.”
“No more threatening language out of you, or I shoot,” the officer warned, holding his tazer out at Kenta. Eying the weapon, Kenta let out a short laugh and turned so that he faced the cop sideways. “Ha. Big man, with his electric gun. Getting back to my little rant . . .” He pointed to the pokeballs on the policeman’s belt. “I know how the tagging system works. You’d have taken away all my pokémon if I hadn’t beaten you to the punch. No genie without a lamp, you know what I’m saying?”
Hibiki heard a crackling noise and saw Kenta twitch; the officer had activated the tazer. However, instead of falling to the ground in a fit of spasms, Kenta remained on his feet, a death-glare burning on his face. “But you did manage to take the friend I’d known the longest,” he hissed, clenching his hands into fists. “And God only knows where he is now, and what you people are doing to him. Give him back.”
The officer activated the tazer again. Kenta didn’t even blink this time. “Give Bakuphoon back to me. He’s not your tool for control. He’s my valuable friend!”
Kenta really wants his Typhlosion back, thought Hibiki, watching unblinkingly as the two officers stood off. I was never a trainer, so I can’t fully appreciate the bond they must’ve had. Still, Kenta’s serious about this. He’s like a mad mother Ursaring right now, who’s lost her cub.
“Why isn’t this working,” mumbled the officer, staring down at his tazer and shaking it. Replacing the stun gun in its holster, he drew out a pokeball instead, looking at Kenta with the face of a cornered animal. “I don’t know what you are,” he snarled, “but electricity-immune or not, you’ve broken several laws and resisted arrest.” The patrolman tossed his pokeball onto the ground, and in a burst of light, an enormous brown creature with layered hide like knight’s armor appeared. Hibiki recognized it immediately as a Tyranitar, and he swallowed painfully as it let out a deafening roar. “The Dragonite of the Johto Region,” Kenta had called it. At minimum, the monster was at level fifty-five, and would’ve learned some of its most devastating moves by now. The average pokémon trainer would’ve been considered tough with level thirty pokémon on his team, but this was simply overkill.
Kenta observed his foe’s pokémon coolly as dirt rose out of the ground around the Tyranitar and burst apart into sand-sized pieces. “Special ability: Sand Stream,” he muttered. “So then, these are the kinds of pokémon they’re letting you guys have today. You get your own climate and everything.”
“This is your last chance,” the officer demanded over the rushing din of the sandstorm. “Stand down, or I’ll order him to attack!”
Hibiki looked from Tyranitar to Kenta, and stared in surprise at his expression. It had changed again; now Kenta had a glint in his eye and a determined grin on his face. There was something nostalgic about the expression, and as he watched, Hibiki suddenly had a burst of vision from the past, as if he were looking at the sixteen-year-old version of Kenta again.
“Now that’s more like it,” beamed Kenta, taking a few steps back. “It sounds like you’ve just challenged me to a pokémon battle. I accept . . . and Bolt is my choice for this match!”
The cop pointed furiously at Kenta’s Salamence, as the enormous dragon pokémon flapped heavily forward and confronted Tyranitar. “Resisting arrest, you leave me no choice. Tyranitar, Rock Slide!”
“Bolt, Protect! Evade the stones!”
Never in his life had Hibiki seen a high-level pokémon match, at least not live. It reminded him of the old Godzilla cartoons he used to watch on television as a little kid. The Tyranitar’s enormous tail buried itself in the ground and lifted out rocks the size of watermelons as if they weighed nothing. Yet in spite of his size, Bolt wheeled skillfully around each and every stone as it was catapulted at him.
“Alright, time for the counterattack!” barked Kenta, pointing at the Tyranitar’s neck. “Strike below the chin! Aerial Ace!”
Immediately, Bolt disintegrated into thin air and reappeared directly in front of Tyranitar, speeding into him with the force of a small truck. The foe pokémon wheeled, but knelt and regained its balance a moment later. Kenta gritted his teeth in disappointment. “Darn it! We still missed.”
“Is that the best you’ve got?” roared the officer from the other side of the battlefield. In contrast to his stiff and formal attitude a moment ago, being in the heat of the fight was drawing out all of his human emotions that came with instinct. He, too, was alive with battle fury. “I see you’ve taught your Salamence a couple of TM moves. You’re not the only one, though. Tyranitar, slow them down with Thunder Wave!”
The great tank of an enemy pokémon raised its paws, and a shockwave of electricity pounded through the air towards Bolt’s side of the field. For a third time, Kenta withstood the electrical energy as if nothing had happened, but Bolt shuddered and flapped painfully to the ground, obviously stunned.
“Speed is our edge, and we’re not losing it!” barked Kenta. “Eat the berry, Bolt!”
“It’s too late, I have you now!” shouted the officer victoriously. “Tyranitar, take it down with Stone Edge!”
“Too slow!” Kenta retaliated, as Tyranitar lifted its great tail to full height to smash his Salamence. “Bolt, Brick Break!”
In a second’s time, Bolt skull-rammed Tyranitar in its diamond-shaped gut, twisting the foe’s body in a forced awkward angle. Then Tyranitar flew backwards with all the force of a falling meteor, slamming heavily into a pine tree with a resounding crack. With its back-spikes holding it fast to the wood, the great tank of a pokémon hung uselessly, unable to do anything but drop its head limply as consciousness left its body. To the three humans looking upon the defeated creature, it looked as though it had been crucified.
A spooky silence followed in the forest clearing as the sandstorm wore down, having nothing to keep it going. The defeated police officer gaped disbelievingly at his beaten Tyranitar, then with apparent effort, looked back at Kenta. Hibiki, who was too busy staring in shock at Bolt, also turned his attention to Kenta. Incredible, he thought, as Kenta walked up to his Salamence and rubbed its head with a jubilant smile. Between Bolt and Kenta, there’s an unfathomable amount of force on our side. We may really be able to pull this off, after all!
“People . . . people like you,” the policeman breathed, looking at Kenta with wide eyes, “you’re the reason we had to let G.R.I.P. take over trainers’ pokémon. It’s because of you rogue trainers, who defy authority with your power.”
“Not me,” said Kenta softly, scratching underneath Bolt’s neck while he looked at his fallen opponent. “It’s because of what G.R.I.P. has done, that I fight you. But I am not a criminal, and I can’t have you identifying me as one.” He glanced behind him, at Hibiki. “Come on over here.”
Hibiki began to move forward at the summon, but Munchlax waddled past him, and only then did he realize that Kenta had been calling the pokémon. However, Kenta’s eyes met his a moment later. “You too, Cloaked Assistant. I’ve got something to tell you.”
Kenta looked down at Munchlax, who was now standing beside him. He pointed at the officer, who was motioning to his Pidgeot and not looking at them. “Yawn.”
Munchlax’s mouth opened wide, and Hibiki saw a strange mist leave the fat little pokémon’s jaws. It blew over to the police officer and his Pidgeot, just as they were standing side-by-side. In an instant, both slumped to the ground, and the cop looked up at Kenta through half-closed eyes. “What . . . did you . . . do to me?”
“You’re going to sleep for a while,” Kenta responded cheerily, his usual smile back on his face. “No hard feelings, but you have to stay here for now. I don’t want you calling for backup as long as I’m still anywhere nearby.”
The patrol Pidgeot flapped its wings feebly, and Hibiki wondered if it was attempting a last-minute Whirlwind attack to keep out of danger. The officer’s eyelids drooped, yet he remained focused on Kenta with what little he had left of his consciousness.
“Who . . . are you?”
Kenta took a dramatic half-bow. “Why, I’m Brendan Birch of course.”
The officer could make no response. His body went limp, and he began to snore heavily.