Chapter 2

I adjusted my eye-goggles and blinked. They were starting to make my head sore. Odd, I had been wearing eye-goggles for seventy years and I never had a problem like this. The eye-goggles were an unusual solution to my myopia. I was so badly near-sighted that I couldn't make out the hairs of my own hand. Irvin's own best-friend, Matthew Kissinger, rigged up a pair of prototype eye-goggles from his own spectacles after I plowed my head into the wall by his front door. Over the years I had the goggles replaced from wear-and-tear and abuse. First the frames were made out of a solid leather. Now I was wearing eye-goggles with a hard black plastic frame that looked more like a welder's set than a biker's, the straps made out of flexible polyethylene straps. The straps were black with a purple stripe running across the middle. I couldn't remember when I last got it, the memory eluded me.

I blinked and massaged my temples. I never had a problem with them before, why am I having a problem with them now?

My discomfort was forgotten when the door opened again. This time a man I never met before. He wore a URP officer uniform. He had a classic thick mustache, his golden hair neatly combed. He walked in and sat down in the chair, didn't looked at me in the eye. He had a file in his hands, he opened it and read, "Tesla Westinghouse," he spoke with a voice less gentle and more assertive than Agent Jenny's. "Serial number: KVF115. I am Lieutenant Trevor McDougall of the Unova Regional Police. I am here regarding the charges being held against you."

I said nothing.

"Officer Hoover and Quincy, your arresting officers, did not give you the required legal warning. Do you understand your right to be silent, and to have a lawyer?"

I said, "I understand my rights."

Lieutenant McDougall flipped a page and said, "Among all the vandalism and public destruction charges, the most serious one is the murder of a high level law enforcement officer. The sentencing will land you from 45 years to life in a maximum security prison. The evidence against you proved without doubt that it was you."

He didn't say the death penalty, which wasn't surprising. I'm an ancient after all, why bother using the death penalty when I'm going to die anyway?

McDougall looked at me in the eye and said, "I've seen a lot of cases, but not one that involves a pokémon, especially one with a charge like yours."

I said nothing.

"According you your profile, and your serial number, you were born in Viridian Forest in the Kanto region. If convicted, you will be sent back to Kanto to serve out your sentence. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

McDougall said, "Your lawyer will further brief you on your options when he gets here. Right now his arrival is delayed, it is unknown when he will show up."

I studied this McDougall guy. He's an honest cop, a good person, doing his job at its finest. He didn't care who I was or used to be. Everyone is viewed as equal under the law. He didn't ask me how I came to speak the human language, didn't ask me about my eye-goggles. Nothing personal. He just told me what I needed to know and nothing else. The URP had his hand right up his ass, using him as a puppet for their bidding. I didn't ask him about Agent Jenny, as she might not have been authorized to speak with me. He didn't mention Nobark's name, which meant that all the charges are against me are only for me. He didn't mention Emmett's name nor his son Mark, so he didn't know about the charges I used to hold in Faraday City.

I asked, "Why is my lawyer being delayed?"

"I wasn't told why," said McDougall, "and I don't need to know why, just that he is being delayed and nothing more."

I frowned. Of course, "need to know" information.

Lieutenant McDougall flipped through my file a few more times, probably checking everything he was sure he got covered, then looked at me again. "You have anything to add, Tesla?"

Anything to add? So you can use it against me in a court of law? Where was that in your warning? I didn't show him emotion, didn't show him anger. If I had shown fear, anger, or grief, there's a chance it will be used against me. Of course, this is an honest cop, not a corrupt scumbag like Hattricks. I took a deep breath, and spoke, "You're an honest cop, right?"

McDougall raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I try my best to be."

"What do you think about this? The oppression here? The conflict? Do pokémon even have rights anywhere at all?"

McDougall said, "The regional and world governments didn't say pokémon didn't have rights. Nothing in their constitutions say that pokémon didn't specifically have or don't have any rights, but the world constitution states that no person should neither be held for slavery nor involuntary servitude."

"What does the term person mean?"

"It usually means human beings, or people, but the Global Supreme Court has stated that any non-human being with a rational conscience with the capability to speak, read, and write human speech, and understands the concept and capability to muster and use ideas, is considered a person. Since you have a high level of intelligence who understands putting ideas into practice, and can read and write, then you are officially a person."

I said, "That doesn't make sense if pokémon that aren't considered persons has the ability read and write, but can't speak. The Nurse Joy assistants have a high level of intelligence and are very literate. Does that make them a person?"

"Only if they act like one."

"What do you mean if they act like one?"

McDougall closed up the file and stood up. "I'm a cop, not a psychologist. Ask your lawyer when he shows up."

Just as he started for the door, I said, "You're doing the right thing. Most people don't treat me like a person, just a mindless extension of my trainer's personality."

McDougall stopped and paused. I continued, "Well I'm nothing like my trainer, I have my own personality and I have my own needs. His other pokémon will follow his commands without question, I think otherwise. I should have let him put down Nobark, nipped it at the bud. If Nobark had died then, none of this would have happen, and I wouldn't even be here."

The URP lieutenant thought for a moment, then said, "I'll be right back."

He left the room, locking the door behind him. I lie down on the floor of the cube cage, and waited.

. . .

He came back after a few minutes, and this time he brought in a friend. This guy wore a black suit, government-issue. The guy had black hair and deep hazel eyes, his face serious as fuck. He reached into his coat and pulled out a digital voice recorder and placed it on the table. The play button was engaged.

"Start in the beginning," said McDougall.

I told him everything he needed to know. Nobark had been my best-friend since the day I had met him. He was a young scrafty then, and we all knew he had mental health issues. When his dissociative personality disorder gotten worst, Irvin and I tried to treat the problem. All efforts produced mixed results. Eventually it got so bad that Nobark's life became unbearable, but he still wanted to live, so when Irvin declared that he was going to have him put down I stepped in and protected him. It didn't take much convincing, and Nobark was spared. But when Irvin passed, Nobark's condition deteriorated and fled back to Unova. After all these years, he finally made it back to his ancient home.

"What happened after he set foot in Unova again?" Lieutenant McDougall asked.

I said, "From what he told me, he picked up a friend of his, then started building the Pokémon Resistance Army. After five years went by, Soho was attacked, and the conspiracy revealed itself."

"What made you go finding him?"

"He killed a pokémon trainer whom I trusted to take care of one of my relatives. I started investigating, picked up the pieces, and I eventually figured out what happened. Nobark didn't like the guy, or at least the bad part of Nobark didn't, he sent out his hit squad to take him out."

"Who was this hit squad?"

Smugleaf Stucky – a snivy, and Wotter – a dewott, carried out the hit order. The two seem to have a love/ hate relationship. Smugleaf was seductive, a spry snake girl who was very handy with a knife. Wotter preferred intimidation rather than persuasion, and so uses force to get what he wants. I coaxed Smugleaf to attack Wotter, mutilate his gonads, after he raped a friend the snivy dearly loved. The pink oshawott, Bubbles, didn't make it, she was later killed from a one pokémon ambush outside the pokémon center. Since I didn't like holding grudges on people and pokémon, I sent her, Wotter, and another of their close associates to Faraday Island with Mark. Whatever happened to them, I have yet to find out.

I didn't plan on giving Wotter and Smugleaf anymore grief, the story between the two is messed up and should not be retold. Rather than answering McDougall's question, I said, "I have a right to remain silent, that information is under no need to know basis. All I can say is that they are no longer a problem."

"You have to give us that information," said McDougall, "you'll be penalized if you don't."

I said, "What more can you do to me? I'm old for fuck sake. Fuck the extended sentence, I'm going to die in prison no matter what."

McDougall looked at black suit guy, he merely stared back. They didn't have much of a plan to interrogate me. They still have a lot to live for, my time is running out. I had the upper hand on this interrogation from the start, there wasn't much they could do to me.

"So tell me, McDougall," I said. "The phone lines are down, my lawyer is being delayed, and I can tell by the look in your eyes that you've got an immediate problem coming your way."

He said nothing.

"You got walls surrounding this part of the camp, the city government is decapitated, and what is left of the PRA is in hiding. But the Pokémon Resistance Army is not your main concern, is it?"

"Then what is?"

Bingo, got him hooked. Now to reel him in. "The situation in Soho had been broadcast on the news all over Unova. I can't say if the news is multi-regional, but I have no doubt that social media had spread word on what is happening here."

McDougall said nothing.

"I've studied psychology, studied anarchists in particular. You know who are anarchists, right? People who are appalled at authority. There are many different kinds of anarchists, but the kind that you should be worried about is the ones who hate government. It doesn't matter what kind of government, but an authoritarian government like Soho is bound to fuel a radical anarchist."

McDougall said nothing.

"If these radical anarchists discovered a glaring hole in the fabric of society, they're going to stick their fingers in it and tear the hole wide open. The lack of a city government is that hole, so you got anarchists coming in from all over Unova to stir up shit. You think Marshal law is going to help? There hadn't been a case where a city's government fell in decades, let alone centuries. They're going to come in with their Molotovs and their circle-A bannisters and start destroying shit. If there is any PRA troops left in Soho, they're going to protect themselves. They'll add fuel the fire, and they have military-grade gear while the anarchists have sticks and stones."

McDougall said, "How do you know this?"

"I've studied the subject, I know what to expect. Unova's nice in all but the dark side of human nature has a lust for chaos. The riot squads here won't be dealing with angry Soho residents who had enough of a police state, you'll be dealing with hardcore anarchists who will attack any authorities on sight. These people are so dangerous that they will even attack their own leaders if their lust for squashing authority isn't met. These are dangerous people, more dangerous than an old pikachu with a rap record."

McDougall sucked in his mouth, then said, "The URP never had problems with anarchists, no problems at all in the past 50 years. If what you said is true, it will be a first time scenario of civil unrest."

"It's one fuck of a bet," I said. "But I'll take your word for it."

"And I'll take yours," said McDougall. "You're a very highly educated fellow, aren't you?"

I said nothing.

McDougall picked up the digital recorder and hit the stop button. He turned to his assistant and nodded toward the door. Both men left the room, locking the door behind them.

I sat in silence, staring at the wall where McDougall had been. If civil unrest is a real possibility, I would have seen signs of it by now. I barely saw any form of human life in Soho besides the occasional "street cop". I sat there for a moment, thought the conversation I had with McDougall. I let out a loud swore. By telling him about the potential cause for anarchy in Soho, I had given him something he could use against me. So if Soho did get attacked by anarchists, then the URP had something else to hold against me. Of course, that may not be possible but it won't stop them from trying, and I have no other legal way to defend myself.

I punched the force field with my fist, then yelped. My osteoarthritic hand screamed with pain. I dropped to my side and nursed it, checking for broken bones. I didn't feel any breaks, but it still hurt a lot.

. . .

The clock in my head told me it was 7:32PM. Everything was quiet save for the buzzing of the forcefields. My belly started to growl, I hadn't eaten anything since this morning. I wasn't sure if they were liable to feed me or not, but I can go hungry for a few days, I have done it before. I crawled up to my water bottle and drank some down. The bottle was now half-empty, I better ration it. I rubbed my belly and moaned. Not a good feeling to have when you are a pokémon, especially a rodent who takes eating a high priority. Food hypnotize pokémon, establishes trust, and for most pokémon the lack of food tears them apart. I wasn't sure why but feeling hungry was a good sign. I think it showed I still have plenty of life left in me.

The water helped suppressed the hunger, but to a degree. The air inside the cube was getting hot and stuffy again. I crawled myself up to the toilet of a glory hole and urinated, then laid down on my back. If I was going to be here for a while, I better get all the sleep I could get. I didn't wanna have to deal with potentially hostile humans while tired. Sleep when you can, while you can. Army grunts know this tactic well enough.

I laid there for a few minutes, then opened my eyes. This was the third time I was put inside of a cage. The cages before were primitive and simple, standing metal bars sandwiched between two plates. I was forced into those cages and I festered in them. This one was different. I wasn't forced into this cage as I offered no resistance, and this cage wasn't really a cage at all, just a specialized force field. I bet they also ground the cage so my electric attacks were futile. I don't even plan on trying. The last time I ground electricity while standing on a metal plate, I had burnt myself. And it isn't like there are friends nearby to come to my aid for burned feet. If I start showing resistance, I could get in a lot more trouble with the law and my seizure will be a lot less comfortable. I don't wanna be sleeping on stone that will act as a heat sink against my tiny body.

Of course, I could just shock the forcefield itself. Maybe overcharge and disable it. But I don't know how the forcefield works. Nanites or photon particles, or something that shines and becomes a solid. If I were to weaken it enough to let me through but still active, I could risk hurting myself. Maybe a thundershock would kick up a lot of smoke in this tight box. It's already stuffy in here as it is, I don't wanna dirty the air any further.

I stared at the forcefield ceiling for a moment, my thoughts on food drifted to the conversation in the next room. I could hear over the buzzing of the forcefields of the cops talking to each other. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but they were talking, speaking. I only wish I could listen in to them, might help with the boredom, or the loneliness, whatever that needs boosting. I'm not sure why but there some sort of, aura, in listening into somebody's conversation. Even though you don't understand the situation they're talking about, it keeps the mind occupied. I'm still a pikachu after all. A social mouse. I had so much hardship in the past few days that I just wanna hear something positive for once. Something good. Something that isn't so hostile, or even evil.

That thought unearthed another thought. Oh fuck, the Dixierats! Agent Jenny had said that her Sheriff counterpart in Dixie had been indicted and Andy may be on the run. These two people had been taking care of the local mice pokémon population. They were all extended relatives of mine, all of them can trace their ancestry back to me. Polly and I had brought a lot of pichu babies into the world, and our children had children, and their children had children. Some of these mice pokémon were being shipped from one pokémon lab to another for research and experiments. Despite being held against their will, my descendants were treated very well, so well in fact that some didn't even wanna be released. If they were suffering at all, it was because of personal reasons.

From what I was told, the Dixierats were accidentally released when a train carrying two cars of them derailed. The oldest one there, one of my many sons, had been horribly mutilated in the crash. He lost an eye and some body appendages, but he took the initiative and got everybody out. When he was no longer needed, he slipped into depression. He missed his mother, and he wondered where I was. I'm not sure how I did it, but this old pikachu, ready to give up on life, was revitalized when I showed up. He was upset because he only wanted the comfort of a parent. I felt happy when I hugged his battered body, and yet I feel sad, sad because I have just met one of my children at the elder stage of his life. His health was more deteriorated than mine, his body was starting to fail, but from during the entire time I was there he was happy. Happy because I was there for him.

A part of me wished I hadn't left Dixie. Initially it was because I wanna follow Ash Ketchum, wanted to be with him. But honestly, the reason runs deeper than that. I've seen the Dixierats and I felt shame from them. There were threesomes, lack of discretion, horrid toilet humor. One of the Dixierat leaders, Rayovac, a monstrous lab reject, was childish and was eager to get on my nerves. For fuck's sake, he touched my butt. I didn't need no fucking boost, Ray! Fuck you!

I did get something out of Dixie, a pichu. Oh she was a little sprite. Her name was Volta, the brief word on her was that her mother was killed during a poacher raid and her surviving father was in no state to take care of herself. I decided to bring her along, try to get a chance on being the proper father-figure I had been so denied from the pokémon breeders that held Polly.

It didn't worked out the way I expected it. I had been drinking, and I was drinking a lot. I didn't realize how much I was drinking until Volta tells me about my misadventures. I think I induced anxiety in her, because she had figured out that I was vulnerable when I am drunk. It got so bad that she caught me sneaking out to find beer to drink and she destroyed the bottle, and this was right after I got back from the pokémon center after being treated for cirrhosis.

She wanted to be like me, but she didn't wanna be that me. It led to the point where I had to let her go, give her up to somebody else. So when she evolved into a pikachu, I gave her to Cabot Richardson, a young man I had met before under different circumstances. I don't know, my life seems to be loosely connected from one story to another, and there's something about these stories that made me wonder if they were even worth telling. Volta was upset when I revealed the news to her, but she understand. She understand that I could not provide the resources I used to enjoy: a warm house, running hot baths, plentiful food, and safety. Cabot can provide that, I can't, so it makes sense to give her up.

So noble at the time, until Nobark asserted himself.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears. Everything was so hot that I never had the time to cry. I don't know why I was crying. Crying because I had lied to Volta because I promised she would be safe with Cabot? Or was it because I poorly took care of her? I tried to imagine I was in here for those crimes. Child negligence, rather than the assassination charge I was facing.

My eyes popped open when I heard the door opened, I looked up and saw McDougall had come back. He hit a button on the cube and deactivated the front force field of my cell. The Lieutenant sat a sheet of paper and a black ball-point pen before me. I blinked, my eyes were so worn out I could barely make out the words of the page. Nonetheless, I could see the characters well enough. It was a confession letter, detailing much of what I am being charged with. Is this admitting guilt? Or this is being used for a potential reduction in my sentence? I wasn't sure, nor did I care. I was finished.

McDougall didn't need to explain it to me, I took the ball-point pen in my tiny hand and signed my name across the dotted line.

I handed the pen back to McDougall and he took the confession slip away. He left the room, locking the door behind him. It was the last time I would ever see that cop again.

. . .

I drifted in and out of a dream state. Some of the time I was waiting, part of the time I was recounting the past events I went through. Most of the time I was mourning. Nobark was a good friend, a close friend. One of the few remaining Westinghouse Army members who walked the face of the earth. The planet just witness another WA member fall, this time it was by my own hand. I feel like I was the last one alive, last one remaining from a bygone era. The days of cheering in pokémon arenas, hearing my name being called out on the speakers, all that hardship Irvin and I had to endure, was gone. In the end, none of it was worth it. Not all injuries heal completely. I could feel some of my old wounds were aching again, wounds that hadn't bothered me in 40 years. I groaned, I was miserable.

No one came to feed me, no one came to even see me. I felt I was forgotten, left to die inside of a box. I never felt this alone in years. I knew I still had supporters from the old days. But what can they do? Legally, almost nothing, not even a cop friend can help get me a reduced sentence. I wasn't sure when this lawyer guy was even showing up. Probably they had lied about him. True, humankind are expert liars. But the URP were professionals. They have evidence. I wasn't sure how long I can sit here and wait for a trial that may never even come. I heard enough cases where people were held for years without a trial. Sounded like some sort of detective mystery plot gone wrong, not that I know what a mystery novel looks like. If I was being held without trial, then it would be a matter of time before I expire. All legal efforts exhausted and rendered unusable.

I woke up again to use the bathroom, I think it was somewhere around 11PM. I did my business down the glory hole and had a little drink from the bottle. I was about to go back to sleep when I felt the ground started shaking. I went full alert, bracing myself against the floor of the cage. What was that? Did something just blow up, or dropped?

Another concussion rocked the ground, this time the lights flickered. The cube malfunctioned and the force fields went down, the lights going out with them. The buzzing of the force fields were replaced with shouting, gunfire, screaming. Did war erupt again in Soho? I would try to escape, try to make a run for it, but I just sat there and listened. If there was fighting outside, then it wasn't my fight. Something was happening, and unless the PRA has returned for another fight then there was something else going on.

I heard something crashed on the roof, I looked up and saw the cracks between the walls and ceiling were shining orange. The air smelling like burnt plastic. I finally jumped down from my cage and dropped to the floor. I couldn't go through the door, it was locked, so I went to the back corner. I mustered all my energy and my tail lit up. It turned to silver steel. I swung it around and smashed it against the corner of the room. The wall was merely held in place by clamps, not screwed on or anything. The panel popped free and I could see the rail yard gravel outside, I jumped out into the midnight air.

And I saw total anarchy.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .