Chapter 3:

Fractured Reality

…

Muffled beeps echoed in the dark as their tone became more acute but deafening and annoying.

Yet again, Grey's eyelid filtered the warmth of sunlight, stirring him awake with a dry groan. A mottled mix of white and tan welcomed him before his blurred vision cleared into the familiar sight of a sterile clinic room. Something most places should have, like Earth...Hold on...

The soft cushioning of the pillow under his head and the coolness of bed sheets over his body, alerted him to his surroundings.

Hope dawned for the first time, with a soft ringing melody coming from somewhere, probably wind chimes from the window outside.

Wait...Was it a dream?

He rotated his stiff neck to get a better gaze around the room, trying to find any sign of his personal hell being real.

No absurd colors, no wildly bizarre creatures, in any picture frame or logo or any hint of the world he had just been in.

As he was about to celebrate with a fist pump to the air, his hands stung, eliciting a yelp from the abruptness of it—

Ow! What the...

With careful movements, he pushed off the covers from his bed, to reveal his gauze-covered appendages, dotted with blots of red, with only one index being spared of the fabric, sticking out and pegged with a cable leading to the beeping heart monitor...but how?

Oh no…

But that could have been anything! Maybe when he tried to stab Marcus in the kitchen, he fell on some shattered plates or glass and cut his hands. Yeah, that must've been it! It had to be. This room seemed way too normal in contrast to his 'nightmare'.

Just to make sure, he leaned up on his bed and surveyed the area, which consisted of a nightstand next to him, the IV machine, heart monitor, some draws at the other end of the room, and the door.

So far, so good, everything was normal.

Oh, thank God.

He gazed at the tree outside by the ajar window next to him from where the wind chime sung its melody, and the two curtains flowing from the soothing draft.

Much to Grey's gladness, everything seemed blandly real, except for the weird red pattern on the left curtain...Which also happened to be light blue in shade covering part of the fabric, unlike the other one, being a full cream-colored one…

And now that he listened closely, it seemed to be where the chiming was coming from, but there was no string attached to it from above or a stand below it. In fact, it wasn't part of the curtain at all.

It was a pale blue bulbous object with two jagged streaks of red on either side of it, and a stubby appendage pointing at him. It had a yellow bulb-like protrusion on top of it, and a long flowing curtained tail, with its bottom half blotted in the same coral red as its streaks…How the hell was it staying upright without any support?

The' fuck is tha—

It chimed and rotated to reveal two beady yellow eyes with an eternal grin connecting them. The beeping rate of his heart monitor skyrocketed as he gasped in horror—

"Chim—ello, nice to see you awak—"

He screamed.

The thing's face winced at his panicked shriek, and it started chiming even louder while waving its stubby little limbs in placation—

"Please calm down," it sang in a rhythm as it floated near, but he leaped off the bed, grabbed the heart monitor stand—ignoring the painful protest of his slashed hands—and tried to shoo the thing away with it.

"Stay the fuck back! Don't come near me or I swear to God I'll—"

"Please, I mean no harm, your hands, sir, they'll—"

"Get away!" He lunged at it with the monitor as the cable flailed and he tripped over, banging his exposed knee on the white tile before getting up, aware now that he was naked under a teal gown, and still in the world of poké—

No! No-no-no this was meant to be a dream, Goddammit!

"Where the hell are my clothes!?" but he spotted them folded on a seat nearby before it could answer. Keeping his eyes on the floating pokém—No, thing! Thing! Whatever it was!—as he went for his clothes, before the abrupt sensation of lethargy crept over his mind.

"Please, sir, calm down, rest. I'll bring the professor and—"

What is that? What's this...Feeling that's coming over me, I…

"Rest, go back to bed, please."

An image of the bed came to mind, its pillow inviting, cool, soft; with the blankets clean and silky and...

I...Want to...Wait, what the hell!? I don't want to go to fucking bed! What is this!? Are 'you' doing this!?

"Calm yoursel—"

I don't know how you're doing it, but get out of my head. Right now.

"Ok, but you must—"

A torrent of red crushed the image—

Get out of my head, bitch!

'Snap!'

The chime turned into a dissonant screech as the floating creature spasmed through the air in apparent pain. Bile rose in his chest at the explosive pitch, as well as the migraine that assaulted his head with the rough landing back to reality, which was currently questionable enough already.

Grey had no idea what had just happened, but he swore to himself in the past, that no one would manipulate him again. Ever.

The door burst open and in came Birch with two young men sporting the same lab coat.

"What's going on here!?"

Grey spun around in alarm, his nausea worsening as he swung the heart monitor stand in an arc to keep them away—

"You first! Tell 'me' what's happening! Now! Where-am-I-why're there-pokemon-what—"

He couldn't hold it down anymore and his jaws snapped open with vomit erupting out, splattering the floor tiles in acidic swirls like a Jackson Pollock painting.

Grey staggered back as his head spun and his throat burned before collapsing to the floor; beads of cold sweat wetting his forehead and back.

"Quick! Get him on the bed!"

Several hands grabbed him from all over, lifting and pulling him toward the bed, but he flailed and thrashed about, hitting something with his elbow—

"Shit he's strong!"

"Hang in there, he'll tire out!"

Grey roared, blood filling his vision in his delirium and sending himself along with the men to smash against some furniture, but another wave of nausea came over him—

"Prepare an intramuscular' with 5mg's of Ketamine! Then we'll sedate him with the IV!"

"Right!"

"No! No! Let me go!" Grey struggled and resisted, but all he could manage now were lolling arms in his state. A sting on his thigh jolted him into another bout, but the throbbing of his throat slowed and calmness washed over him as the ceiling came into view once again…

This is just a dream, it's just a...

Grey exhaled and there was black...

...He took a lungful of air and he was back in the clinic room just as suddenly, with eyes darting back and forth, before settling on a suited, bespectacled man with a fair complexion, sitting on a chair in front of him with a pad and pen on his lap.

Grey tried to move his hand, but he found them strapped to the bed with leather belts on either side.

What the fu—

"How are you feeling?" Asked the man as he adjusted his square spectacles.

"Why am I strapped to a fucking bed!?"

"Language, sir."

"I'm 24! I'll speak however the hell I want! We're both adults here!"

The bespectacled man lowered his gaze and jotted some notes down. "Remembers his age...Able to distinguish adults from children...And is aware of basic human rights from his restraint. Good." He mumbled under his breath.

"Are you...Are you a shrink?"

"'Shrink'? What is that?" He asked as he jotted that down too.

Yeah definitely a shrink...who isn't aware of the universal slang term of his profession...Ah shit.

"Psychologist," Grey clarified. "Might' explain the get-up and why I'm tied down like a damn animal."

"Are you aware of the reasoning for your restraint?"

Grey shifted an eye to his hands. The gauze was replaced with a fresh new one, and he was re-connected to the IV. He grunted in annoyance.

"Yeah, I get it, I lost my shit and my hand wounds might open, okay? But I'm fine now,"—he gave a pull on the strap, motioning to it—"so c-can you please just, you know?"

The shrink considered it. "How about this, you answer some questions calmly, without agitation, and I'll remove them. You have the right to refuse to respond to some, however, there are other 'logical' ones I need answering for me to diagnose you. Deal?" He asked with a gentle smile.

Grey exhaled, "Fine."

"Good. So, what can I call you?"

"You first."

He jotted that down. "Aware of proper social conduct, good...Sorry, my mistake, I'm Dr. Freud. What's your name?"

Haha! 'Freud'? As in 'Sigmund Freud'? Possibly the most famous psychologist of the ages? Oh God this couldn't get anymore fucked up—

"Grey."

"Surname?"

He considered answering, but he was more lost than a blind man touring an art gallery. Anything he might say during this interview could play against him here in this place, or dimension, or whatever. He could end up at the looney house; if this world even had one to begin with, it wouldn't surprise him if it did.

"I'm entitled to reserve that information. It's not 'my' fault you can't identify me. First' name's all you're getting, mate."

"That's fair, as long as I have a name to call you by, and you've already told me your age." Dr. Freud said as he wrote on his pad. "We'll skip the personal questions then, and go for the more important logical questions. I need these answered, Grey, so that I can decide if it's safe to release you. Is that acceptable?"

Grey just deadpanned as he yanked on the leather. "I don't think I have much of a choice, do I Doctor? Let's get this show on the road shall we?"

The elder man gave another gentle smile. "Of course. Tell me, Grey,"—he leaned forward and focused his piercing dark eyes—"what planet are you on?"

Grey almost answered 'Earth', but doubt filled him. In those moments, his mind worked furiously to construct an answer that wouldn't see him sent to an asylum.

Oh shit. He thinks I'm suffering from severe dementia! My unwillingness to answer personal questions might've made him think I'm trying to avoid them for entirely different reasons, like symptomatic denial. Damn! So how do I answer? I could've sworn I saw Professor Birch just moments ago. But then again...He's not here now. And...I...

The room went dead silent as time was running out. The longer he took to answer, the worse his circumstances would get.

Shit-shit-shit! And to think this is just the 'first' fucking question!

That was one thing he never really knew, what planet was the pokémon world actually based on? He had to think hard about anything he might know, from pokémon itself to Nintendo's history and...But wait…

What if he really was back on Earth, fully awake after his attempt at murder, and Professor Birch along with that chiming-thing and everything else that transpired wasn't real? Had he finally lost his mind? If he answered wrong with something simple like 'Pokémon World', he wouldn't go to prison for his attempt at murder, where he'd at least have some minimal free-privileges, no. He'd be sent to the 'looneys', placed under constant watch, without much leeway or anything else for who knew how long…And he needed his coffee and vapes. Or at least as a last resort, a ciggy'.

But, if he was actually in the world of 'Pokémon'? A wrong answer here would be equally devastating.

Shit.

Well, Nintendo hasn't named any planets for most of their successful franchises, if any, apart from Metroid and other exceptions from the minority. They just all look Earth-like...Wait.

It came like lightning.

There was that one viral inside joke from ages ago, a quote in the very first pokémon movie, lord did he watch that movie countless times with Nigel...His stepbrother…

The main character, Ash ketchup—Catch up? Catchem'?—no, again, that can't be the last name—made some sort of reference to the 'Minnesota Vikings' football team, where that team rocket trio had dressed like Vikings and—stupidly—made the taller of the trio of that time think that they were real Vikings.

I think in response, Ash said something dumb like: 'they mostly live in Minnesota'.

If the movie was generally accepted as canon, then there was no denying it...Either way, saying the 'pokémon world' would be an unacceptable answer…Fuck it—

"Earth." He answered with a shudder in his voice.

The doctor gave him a look as if to ask if he were certain. Then he scribbled on his pad.

"Good, next—"

Oh my God, yes! But wait, if he confirmed, then does that mean I'm actually on Earth? If so, which one?

God that was confusi—

"Which region are we in?"

And I'm fucked.

Region? Doesn't he mean 'country'? But then again all countries had regions, but why not ask 'country' first? Then narrow it down to Region? That's odd...

Shit. Once again, doubt coursed through his body. The first question was hard enough, the second was just unfair. Again, the past would have to aid him. He assumed, from the oddity of the question, that the Earth he was on, was leaning toward the...Pokémon one...

He could only remember playing the first and second generation of pokémon many times, but the third was a bit of a quick run-through. He could vaguely recall most of the first-gen pokémon, less the second, and almost nothing of the third and beyond...Wait…

That little blue pokémon the May girl used...The ones he had seen in the forest, and...Combusken...They never rang a bell...Not once.

It was coming back to him bit by bit...But it wasn't enough, it kept eluding him. The only thing he could glean was that the first two were based on Japanese regions, but the second name wasn't a real-world name, but rather a Japanese word…Grey could only give a partial answer, and at least prove he knew where he wasn't…

"I know we're not in Kanto or...Johto…?" Grey winced, especially with that last half-guess, waiting for the doctor's reply. Once more he gave him a look. But Dr. Freud didn't answer straight away, and the scratching of pen on paper grated on Grey's wracked nerves more than it should, before the shrink gazed at him again—

"You are correct, Grey, you're doing great. I see signs of improvement."

Improvement? That can only mean he thinks I'm partially recovering my memory...Which isn't 'inaccurate', though he has no idea about the sort of memories I'm trying to recall.

"Can you name me any other region?"

He shook his head.

"That's ok. Do you know what year it is?"

Oh no, another brain gnawing question, ugh…A bit easier, considering some things I've noticed, but I need something that can confirm...It...Huh?

Grey gazed out the window for a moment, and to his enormous surprise, in the distance, he made out a small long elongated figure floating across the sky…He never thought he'd see something like that in his lifetime.

Holy shit...No. Fucking. Way. Is that…A 'Zeppelin' floating in the sky?

He narrowed and focused his vision on the distant moving object...

Shit it is ay'! An actual Zeppelin! Hoho!

Now it was clear, though he didn't know exactly what year they were in, he could make an estimate, and since the shrink already deduced he had partial memory loss, there was a bit more leeway.

"We're somewhere in the mid-late 1970s." Answered Grey confidently.

The psychologist raised a brow in mild surprise of his own at the quick answer.

"Correct. We're in the year 1979, actually."

Grey would've clapped if he could, but even if he wasn't bound, it would be best if he didn't show his gladness too much.

Ha! Nailed it!

It was obvious, especially considering the Zeppelin and everything else. The first clue was the very person sitting in front of him. During his half-completed psychology course, there was an entire subject about 'Fashion Psychology', and the first subject matter of the university subject consisted of the fashion sense of psychologists themselves in a professional setting.

It was after the 90's that most psychologists had forgone the traditional high-profile suits and ties, and instead opted for a more casual look in their sessions with their clients, to lessen any tension, discomfort, and 'intimidation' that the 'suited look' could present. This increased the chances of the patient opening up more to the psychologist, as well as lessening their anxieties about needing to see one in the first place. Not to mention the 'outdated note-taking' methodology that Dr. Freud was applying.

Second. Both Professor Birch himself, and 'May'. The first was less obvious as Grey only noticed the thirty-something-year-old's side curls with fringes to the front that reminded him of a young 'Christopher Reeve' kind of look. The American actor had photos from the 70s where he had combed the front or left the fringes hanging loose, and that was the look Birch had.

May, on the other hand, was solid proof of the current youth's fashion of 'this world'. The hot-red bandanna and collared sport zip-shirt over the white long singlet sticking out weren't fooling him, as well as her blue cycling shorts, not to mention the calf-length socks with warm palette sneakers, and her rocker hair style that frayed out to the sides with the fringe.

Her entire fashion sense screamed the 70s sporty fashion.

And then, there was the 'Zeppelin'. This one was a bit trickier, because in his world, the 'Hindenburg' disaster in 1937, marked the end of airship travel, and it was revealed decades later, that the cause of the crash was actually anti-Nazi sabotage that saw a valve opened to leak the hydrogen and cause an eventual fire to spread across the fabric, either from an electro-static discharge from the heavy weather that day, or an intentional act of arson with the hydrogen leak, causing the crash.

But through the simple fact that 70s fashion was clashing with late 30s aero-ship travel, meant a non-World War alternate Earth dimension, which explained the earlier technological and medical advancements in this era that only saw light anywhere between twenty and thirty years after the wars on 'his' Earth...The things humanity could do if they weren't so busy blasting each other's fucking brains out or mindlessly indulging themselves in a cesspool of their own vanities...

It seemed the politics from his world had failed in 'this world', meaning an end of nations, and the beginning of 'regions' in this more unified world, apparently. Good, fuck the presidents and PMs, they were mere puppets and masks of their respective country's real owners anyway.

Dr. Freud scribbled some more on his pad.

"Very good...It seems memory recovery is already underway…" He mumbled, before then adjusting his spectacles and his seating position. "Final question, Grey."

"Finally...Shoot."

The elder smiled. "Aside from humans, what is the world's most dominant species?"

Silence.

Grey was back in the moment with the Combusken nearly gutting him thrice; her mantle of flames searing his skin. To think there were bigger creatures than even her...Fangs, wings, fire, claws, blades…

He shuddered as his lips went dry. He just confirmed that he was in an alternate dimension, so why was it so hard to accept? Maybe because he had been avoiding the one subject he could not explain, apart from the real-world fusion of history and trends. But 'that' part was simply inexplicable. It just couldn't—

"Grey?"

He jolted at the psychologist's insistence. Had he been hesitating that long?

The man leaned forward with a look of concern on his face. "Are you okay?"

Grey swallowed. "Y-yeah...I heard the question...Sorry…"

Dr. Freud got up slowly and walked over to the bedside. "Just answer me that last one, and depending on your answer, I'll release the straps, and you'll see me gone."

It wasn't a trick question, and half of it was already answered for him. This wasn't a test of knowledge and dementia anymore. This was one where the conscious and preconscious ability to accept 'reality' was tested, to see if the patient was deemed fit to live amongst society. Where the ability for one's 'Ego' to manage and filter the 'Instinctual Drive' and 'Super-ego' of the 'Tripartite personality factor', was tested. But what if each of these factors were clearly under stress and collapsing against one another? Or what if none of them were entirely dominant?

Fucking Freud…

Grey gnashed his teeth, controlling a rising growl in hatred of his current situation…There was no point in denying what happened and where he was...He just confirmed it himself.

The cuts on his hand flared in irritation along with his disgust for the pokéball he tore apart earlier...

"...Pokémon." He admitted.

Dr. Freud's shoulders relaxed in genuine gladness as he unbuckled the leather straps. "Good...I can see that you're well on your way to recovery, Grey. Here, take one of these a day." He passed him a container with red and blue pills.

"The' hell are these?"

"SSRIs, they'll help you with your anxiety disorders and panic attacks. Don't skip any and finish the course. You can wash up in the bathroom there and get dressed, while I get the professor." He said with a smile as he took his pad and was about to walk out, but with a hand on the doorknob, he turned. "Oh, and Grey?"

"Yeah?"

Dr. Freud smiled with a twinkle in those black eyes. "I know you've had a difficult day, but try not to stress so much. Like a pokemon's, the human mind is incredibly powerful...But also very fragile."

Finally, the shrink left and Grey rubbed his wrists, shaking his head. He dressed in the clothes that were on the seat, similar to his previous ones. The pants were the same but the white hoodie was slightly different since his old one must've been splotched with blood. Whatever. It didn't matter anymore...

He sat back on the bed and waited, staring at the gauze on his hands.

The door creaked open once more, and professor Birch came walking in with a sheepish smile, like a child expecting to get scolded. "Grey? Was it?"

"Yeah." He replied to a Birch sporting a new brilliant lab coat, as white as the bandage on his nose. That wasn't there before was it? How did he get that? Grey recalled hitting something earlier with his elbow—Oh.

"Can I get you a coffee or something to drink?"

"N-no, thanks."

The professor nodded and sat down on the chair as he rubbed his nose, for which Grey would address immediately—

"Sorry for losing my shit earlier, I...I didn't mean to hit your nose."

Birch placated, "No no, it's fine, ha. With my line of work that's kind of expected, though admittedly not from a fellow human. This is actually the staff infirmary for my lab. I'm Daniel Birch, a pokémon professor, and I specialize in 'pokémon habitats and distribution'. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He offered a hand, and Grey, though with hesitation, took it. Birch was careful with the gesture, eyeing the gauze and his injuries.

"It's a pleasure, professor."

"No, it's all mine. After all, Grey, I owe you my life."

Huh?

"Sorry?"

"Oh yes. You were passed out, so you didn't see it. But...I never expected things to turn out the way they did."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you okay to take a walk?"

"Y-yeah. I need a break from this...room."

Birch grinned with a glimmer in his chestnut eyes. "Then come with me, and I'll answer your question."

Daniel got up and waited.

Well he's energetic.

Grey, ironically glad to leave the one setting that seemed normal, followed the professor into a tiled hallway that held a few pictures and space themed décor, before entering a room filled with the whirring of machinery, bubbling beakers and the beeping of computers.

A genuine lab with an air of science. But Birch's main interest was the round window showcasing the fields outside, to which he gestured, keeping the grin on his chin-bearded face.

Grey took a peek and saw a grass field with some hills on the horizon, bright with the light of late afternoon sun and filled with different...Pokémon, he assumed.

But what caught his attention was a bench nearby and on it...Sat the 'combusken' that nearly killed him.

What the hell?

She gazed out to the fields unmoving, her orange head crest blowing from a breeze.

"What's 'she' doing there?"

Birch wore a similar befuddled expression, "That's just it. She's been wandering around there for a few hours now. She only accepted some water to drink, and for my chimecho to tend to her wound, but nothing else. I think she's waiting for something."

What's a 'chimecho'?

"...What happened?"

"I don't know how you did it, man, but somehow you convinced her to rescue me from the poochyena pack. She swooped down, made quick work of them before they retreated, and that was it. After I tended to my earlier urgent business which got me into that mess in the first place, with May and the fire-fowl staying to look after you while my team came and picked you up, we all returned here, accompanied by the combusken from a distance. It's perplexing really."

"Why so?"

Birch raised a brow, before glancing at Grey's hands. "Have you forgotten?"

"The pokéball?"

"Yes. Somehow, you broke it with your bare hands, and that freed her from my...Care."

Grey noted the caution Birch used with that last word, making it seem less possessive. No doubt the professor was onto his dislike of the gadget, obviously based on his actions. But that was in a moment of absolute desperation...And rage.

"And what does that mean?"

"It means she came freely of her own volition. Pokémon are incredible and intelligent beings. She knows she can just walk off. But she hasn't."

"Why?"

"I don't know. But that's the calmest I've ever seen her. Tell me, Grey…"

Birch's eyes shone like twinkling stars and it creeped the fuck out of him.

"Y-yes?"

"How is it that you're able to speak to pokémon?"

Huh?

"'You can't?"

The professor blinked at the question. "Well, no. It's not a common thing. I understand that some people have special bonds with their pokémon...Pokémon partners, I mean to say"—He quickly corrected—"and between them, there are usually clear signs of sub-communication based on inflection-based linguistics, as well as visual, non-verbal cues that can make it seem like they understand each other in the same way you and I are speaking...But to actually have a dialogue with a pokémon is almost completely unheard of...Save for some unique set of people called 'psychics'."

If Grey wasn't confused with all the bizarreness of the situation and everything else that had happened, he certainly was now. What could he say? How could he explain such a thing? He already blew part of his 'cover' by assuming everyone else could speak to pokémon. Obviously, that wasn't the case, and he seemed to be a rare exception.

"Grey, you wouldn't happen to be one such 'psychic' would you?"

If he wanted answers to his current situation, he needed to practice some honesty with the professor at least. He already avoided the looney house, and it seemed the professor hadn't called any authorities, having housed him here in his lab instead. So there wasn't too much harm in sharing the truth in exchange for valuable intel.

"No. Not that I know of."

"I see...My Chimecho was quite disturbed, with what happened earlier."

Chimecho...Chime, oh.

"Is it okay?"

"'Melony' said she was fine. She just didn't expect such a strong psionic backlash."

"Wait, I thought you said you couldn't talk to pokémon."

The professor brightened up, eager to share his knowledge. "Ah, but Melony, is of the pokémon genus 'Chimecho', and they are psychic-types."

"'Psychic-type'?"

"Yes. Like most others of this type, she is not limited to verbal communication, and as a natural telepath, she can transmit information to my mind, then translate it into something that I can perceive as a human. In such a manner, she can create a telekinetic link. Hence 'psychic'."

"I see…"

"Mostly, pokémon have this unique trait. But there are some humans born with this psychic ability too, as well as humans born with other distinct kinetic traits that, otherwise, only pokémon possess. It's an ongoing mystery amongst the scientific community. We call these sorts of individuals 'Meta-humans'. Extremely rare."

"Right…"

Meta-humans, definitely comic-book terminology. But psionics...The way it seemed to work, heavily reminded him of the 'Protoss' from the 'Starcraft' franchise, a psionic race that didn't require vocal chords to communicate, but rather transmitted information telekinetically, often translating it for the lower-dimensional minds of other races, as well as perform many of their tasks with such power.

"Maybe you can find the answer to your first question," said Birch as he motioned to the window.

He gave a rigorous shake of his head. "Uh-uh, no way! She tried to kill me!"

"Because of a misunderstanding, Grey. If it makes you feel comfortable, I'll have one of my staff on-site with a tranquilizer gun. Just in case."

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Did this man think he could use him as an experiment?

"Why are you so keen for me to go?"

"Because I can see you're confused."

"What?"

"The psychologist I called believes you're recovering from memory loss, naturally it's his job to be skeptical, but stick with current reality, aiding his patients to do the same. I, however, as a scientist, seek to 'expose' the hidden secrets of life that we haven't yet discovered, and 'expand' our perception of reality. Ultimately, that's the goal of science, or at least it should be."

"Expand our perception of reality…" Grey repeated under his breath. As a famous movie quote once said…

'What is real? How do you define 'real'?'

Birch's voice brought his attention back. "He might believe that you have temporary mild amnesia"—Birch raised an index along with a brow—"But I don't think that's true, is it?"

Grey recoiled from the statement.

Has he figured me out already!?

"I guess your reaction proves my point, and I have a proposition for you, to aid you in your ventures, whatever they may be. But for that, I need you to be honest with me, Grey. I can help you. First, however, you need to speak to 'her'. It's not fair to keep her waiting."

Grey shuddered at the thought. It was clear that Birch cared about pokémon, in his own way.

But something didn't seem right.

"If she was so unstable, why did you have her in the bag?" Grey questioned.

Birch sighed. "When I caught her the other day, she was in terrible shape. Today, I was supposed to...Take her to a 'pokémon psychotherapist', but in my haste, I just scooped up all of the pokéballs, including the starters, and rushed out—"

Yeesh. 'That' bad?

"—to tend to an emergency involving a pikachu."

...Did he mention a 'pikachu'? But they weren't in Kanto. Were pokémon region-exclusive? Or could they migrate? Questions for later, first...

"How did you catch such an aggressive pokémon?"

Birch gave a soft reminiscing smile. "I may not look it now, but back in my day, I was a hotshot trainer. I learned during my adventures that pokémon are most vulnerable in two scenarios...One is if they are weakened in combat, the other...is when they are in the middle of evolution. A strange irony, I know. The latter is how I managed to catch her before she could injure herself any further."

Injure herself 'farther'? Just what the hell happened to her?

"I can see you have questions. But anything else at this point would be a disservice to her privacy, and it's not like I have anything solid about her situation anyway, it would mostly be speculation. Why don't 'you' let her gain your trust, while you gain hers? Maybe she'll open up to 'you' instead. I think it will be far more fulfilling for the both of you, wouldn't you agree?"

To face her again, after what just happened? The sting of his left shoulder reminded him of how close he was to being permanently damaged. He shivered at the mere suggestion of it, but a hand steadied his shoulder—

"Give her a chance, Grey. Trust me when I say, she needs it...I'll have one of the boys ready with a tranq' gun, but I don't think we'll need it."

Grey could only nod, 'that' did reassure him to a certain degree…It would be hypocritical for him to judge her actions; he himself almost became a murderer...no...he may as well be one. Marcus would've been just another dead enemy. The intent alone was enough to label himself as such. But the difference was, that her aggression was born of trauma and he happened to be the 'object of displacement'. His, however, was born of rage and was not displaced. Marcus would have deserved his death…

He sighed. "Fine. But, I want to hear your proposition first. She can wait a little longer if she wants, it's the least she can do for almost skewering me. In exchange,"—Grey turned his gaze, leering at Birch—"I'll tell you the truth, professor."

Birch nodded. "Very well…" The researcher went over to a drawer near a pedestal that had two pokéballs on it, one with a sticker of a 'leaf', and the other with a sticker of a 'flame' on it. One of the slots was empty. The 'mudkip' that Grey recalled, came to mind.

Professor Birch came back, holding a red rectangular device—

"Professor, where did 'May' go? Did she come out alright?"

"Hmm? Oh, May Haruka? She's fine. A while ago, before you woke up, she left with some new friends of hers to Oldale town."

"Right…Oldale town."

I have no freakin' clue where that is…Time to spill the beans. I can't wonder this world without knowing where the fuck I'm going. Should I just say it outright, or clue him in?

"Did she take one of your pokémon with her? I recall a...Water-type?" He half-guessed the element of the pokémon that, quite literally—and hilariously— spat in her face, pointing with his chin to the pedestal.

Birch for a second looked confused at his ignorance, before glancing back at the two pokéballs, then back at him. "Well, yes. She was going to choose torchic, but after I told her that combusken was the evolved form...she quickly settled for mudkip, already being more familiar with him than treecko."

"Chose torchic? I didn't know you were giving these pokémon away. Hmm, guess you can't blame her for picking the water one, huh?"

Birch looked surprised. "Wait, you don't know...about my lab, or the 'trainer starter program', do you?"

Grey shook his head.

"And you don't know what a 'pokédex' is either?" He asked, waving the device.

"Nope."

The professor's gaze lowered in apparent bafflement. "I see...I...I guess I was more correct about my earlier assessment of you than I thought. Would you like some water? I feel kind of parched."

"No thanks." He answered as the professor went ahead and got some water from a dispenser next to them. The professor gulped a bit of the water down, with his Adam's apple bobbing.

Obviously, the man was getting anxious and fidgety from all the mystery, the guy might've even been wondering how the psychologist was fooled into not taking him to the asylum.

For a few moments, the professor remained silent, analyzing Grey with renewed vigor as though he were a petri-dish under a microscope.

"So, I guess you're not from this region are you?"

Getting warmer, teach'. Just gotta' make sure of something...

"Professor, do you know what 'planeswalking' is?"

Birch froze for a moment to consider the—evidently unbeknownst to him—'Magic: the gathering' reference.

Guess that didn't work, figures.

Though it didn't cross out the possibility, the circumstances needed were mostly appropriate after all...

"I've never heard of such a term, no. W-what is that? Is that a new theory from your home region's scientific community?" He asked while taking another large gulp from the plastic cup with a nervous eye on him.

Again with the 'region' shit!? C'mon man get a clue! Ah, fuck it—

"I'm not from this world, Dan'."

"Pfft!" The professor spat out all the water he drank in a spray, like the mudkip from earlier.

Grey rolled his eyes—

"Huh!?" Birch's eyes bulged in disbelief as water drizzled from his gaping mouth.

Grey sighed as he pinched his nose.

Oh God, I hope I don't regret this…

...Oh Arceus…I hope he's okay.

I mean...Eh, not that 'I care' or anything, but…Ah screw it, he's right, I was being kind of a bitch.

But…I have to know.

She had heard the yelling from the ajar window of the clinic room. She couldn't see much, but she heard everything that transpired within, from the collapsing furniture to the dialogue that occurred half an hour later.

The mental breakdown 'Grey' had, must've been what he saw in herself when she was accidentally released from her pokéball...So his reaction was certainly justified. That much she gathered, apart from his conversation with this so-called 'psychologist' person. He sounded a bit creepy but seemed to have helped Grey gather his wits.

Now she sat in the place where she had been supposedly kept, with the chimecho having healed the gash left by the man. The bench was a good spot, no doubt the window behind her was the main lab of her...Previous captor, now that Grey freed her from the ball prison. She had no doubt that the professor would lead Grey there and he'd see her.

The fowl pokémon gazed at the kitchen knife on her lap as it gleamed and reflected her crimson eyes. She decided to hold it for him, hidden away in case it got him into trouble. What was he doing with such a thing anyway? Was he a chef? She didn't know too much about human culture, but she knew some things. Human's lacked natural tools for their defense, without their 'technology', they were fucked. Simple as that. But...Why did he even bother using the knife? Didn't he 'have' a pokémon to defend himself with?

Stupid question. Obviously, he didn't, why bother breaking her prison in the first place? Why the knife? The answer was clear, but it created even more questions...

Most humans would've been utterly helpless against her...But Grey was a strange case. He put up a good fight. And even though she had him at her mercy, beaten, bruised, and bleeding, that unrelenting stare he gave her…That thing he did…And how he broke the capture sphere...

The subtle crumpling of grass alerted her to approaching footsteps, a casual and calm gait, but slow enough to indicate caution.

His surreal elemental scent was unmistakable, but she pretended to not notice.

He stopped just under two meters from her. A safe distance. He was wary of her, and she didn't blame him.

"I know you're aware of my presence, so drop the act. What do you want?" He asked gruffly, masking his fear with anger.

Good. He was smart to be afraid, that's what allowed one to survive in this world.

"Easy to sound tough when you've got a human a few yards away to back you up with the gun."

She smirked as she gazed at him, but dropped it quickly as he stood calm and collected, without surprise. The pang of guilt in her gut tightened at the sight of the scars on his hand...Wait...Why didn't the chimecho heal him completely with her 'heal pulse'?

"Drop it. Obviously, you've been waiting to talk to me, so, out with it."

His callousness started to irk her, but she controlled herself, her previous statement was just as snide. She swallowed her pride—

"Look. I'm sorry for...Doing what I did. I was mistaken—"

"Yeah, bloody right you were."

"Can I finish?" The combusken glared at him expectantly with hands on hips.

"Sure, if you promise to get to the point."

"Right. Anyway, I just wanna' know...Why'd you break my cage? The ball?"

He just leered at her for a few moments, and again this unsettling feeling came upon her—

"Because people annoy me, and I don't like 'pokéballs'. Also, it was to prove just how much of a dumbass you are for not figuring it out yourself, before this 'piece of shit human' could."

Okay, now he was being a prick. She banged the bench with a fist—

"What'd you call m—"

He wagged a scarred index finger. "Ah, ah, ahh, temper-temper, a guy's over there with a tranq aimed atcha'. The second you try something, you're off to the 'psychotherapist', and if they can't help you, well, I'd hate to think what happens to misbehaving pokémon."

She growled at his impudence.

"Tch. Why you…"

"That's your problem, and it's one that I'm perfectly intimate with, so I understand. You get riled up and you don't think straight. Instead of having attacked 'me', you should've gone for the pokéball instead. Obviously, you have a strong enough will to resist most of its technological propaganda, or whatever the hell goes on in there to make pokémon more 'friendly' and 'obedient' after they're captured. I'm not sure how it works, but I'm assuming there's something grim behind such an insanely advanced gadget. Quite frankly, it's absurd that technology of that caliber is wasted on such a disgusting contraption...So anyway, that's my advice if you ever get—"

She stopped him with outstretched clawed hands. "Time out. Question."

"What?"

She waved her arms, frustrated at his gibberish. "What the hell are you even talking about!?"

He rolled his eyes. "Never mind, just go for the ball if you ever get caught again."

"Huh?"

What does he mean by 'if' I ever get caught again? Why the advice?

His gaze softened. "But you did the right thing by me. You helped the professor, and for that I'm grateful. If he weren't alive, I wouldn't have had a modicum of anyone else's support."

Wha?

"Oh, is that my knife?" He pointed at the blade on her lap, she grasped it in her claws and offered it to him.

"Yeah, kept' it for you. The' heck were you doing with it in the middle of a forest anyway?"

He took the kitchen blade, frowning at it in evident thought, and placed it into the new blue backpack he sported. "That's kind of personal. But I appreciate your gesture."

"Whatever…"

She gazed away as he stood straight.

"So what now?" She asked, indecisiveness gnawing away at her being, unable to forget the strange event that happened at the tree, and his amber eyes that latched onto her very mind...

"Now, we're even. Thanks for your help with the professor and the knife."

He turned and walked away toward the woods with a wave of his hand…

What the hell? That's it? He's just going to—

"Hey!" she yelled out, getting up in disbelief at his sudden stupidity.

"Huh? What is it now?" He called back.

"You don't have any pokémon do you!?"

"So?"

"'So!? Whaddya' mean 'So'!? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is in there!? Especially alone!?"

For a moment he only gazed back, before he shrugged. "Meh, got my knife and some provisions from the professor, I should be alright. Take care now."

He waved once more and kept going.

She was gobsmacked at his idiocy.

One moment he was spewing out such elaborate vocabulary, and the next he was waltzing into a forest without a pokémon or anyone else to look out for him!? Seriously!? What planet was he daydreaming on!? What is it with this guy!?

"What about 'me' dammit!? You wrecked my pokéball! Now I'm freakin' homeless—"

Again…Nowhere to call home...or prison...What do I do now…

He turned around once more. "Homeless? Hehe..."

His shoulder's spasmed, before he burst out in laughter, cackling into the air with some pidgey flying away from the trees at the abrupt loudness like he had just heard a joke.

"The' fuck are you laughing at 'now!?" She hollered out, her furious voice echoing over the fields.

"Haha! Silly pokémon, you're not homeless! You're free! In your own fucking world!" He called out to the heavens with open arms; his voice resonating across the land in both amusement and rage.

'In my own world?' What the hell is 'that' supposed to mean?

She didn't know if he was psychotic, neurotic or if he was just Zubat-shit insane—

"Unlike me..." She swore she heard him say before he strode off into the woods.

Oh crap! Is this guy fucking suicidal or what!?

"Wait! Ugh...Idiot!"

Jerking her arms back, she launched herself into a sprint, converting it into a 'quick attack' dash that adorned her body with ribbons of pale yellow energy, in pursuit of the lunatic before he got himself killed…

...Professor Daniel Birch watched the entire thing from the window, smiling.

"And so, they're off…" He chuckled, shaking his head at what fate brought home today, his mind still spinning with infinite possibilities and still in disbelief at everything he just heard from the—literal—'other worldly', brazen young man…

He gazed at the pokéball-filled utility belt in his hands, as footsteps echoed in the lab behind him—

"Hey Professor, I just came back with the results of the fingerprint scans you wanted—again—and still zero results, no matches, we even tried a search in every other region, in every server, and nothing. We tried, like, ten times! This guy might as well be a ghos—wait...why do you have a utility belt in your hand?"

"Ah, Joshua, so you're absolutely certain there are zero records on him?"

The pine-green-haired lad adjusted his glasses and nodded. "Yeah, but...Where is he? Did...Did you let him go?"

"So it's true…" Daniel mumbled to himself…

My word…I can't believe it...But the evidence speaks for itself...Melony had a glimpse into his mind and everything he said is irrevocably true.

No human being considered to be mentally unstable could create such an elaborate false memory, along with a vivid description of this 'other Earth', even if they tried in order to lie about it...according to Melony, his memories and his mental wavelengths render his story 100% authentic—

"Professor, you didn't let him go without a starter or any pokéballs, did you?" Asked Joshua with a waver in his voice.

"He took the pokédex and allowed me to create a fake Hoenn profile for him, with credit to the lab as an 'assistant'. It should facilitate any transactions and other documentation he'll need, apart from what I've already given him. But he refused the pokéballs and the PA endorsement from the lab. Heh...I never thought I'd see the day…"

"Huh? What do you mean!? He didn't take a starter with him!? W-where's he going?"

"Oh, he chose his starter, alright. He's off to Oldale town, like the others. Don't worry, I gave him some money to start off with as well as some basic camping equipment."

"Which starter? I still see the other two pokéballs on their pedestal, and May took mudkip. Don't tell me...He took 'her'? And how? Without any pokéballs? No 'Pokémon Association' league financing!? Just what does he plan to do!? Oh dear, oh the humanity..." Joshua jittered like a marionette in the wind, clearly nervous for the new 'assistant' of the lab.

"But that's the intriguing part, Joshua…"

"Huh?"

Daniel turned back to the window and gazed at the forest that the pair entered...

"I have no idea. But it seems he's chosen a different path...Or maybe he'll find his true path on the go, like I did. Isn't that what it's all about?"

Joshua gasped and came to his side, his glasses disheveled from his surprise. "Professor...What have you done?"

"Do you have any idea how hard a pokéball actually is? It's designed to resist exposed water pressure of up to 400 ft deep, or to resist a hundred pounds worth of weight on top of it. Yet he broke it with his bare hands, though not unscathed, the feat itself is…"

"Professor. I can't believe how...How could you let him go with—"

"Joshua. I was just about to give up on her, yet he won her trust. I, an ex-trainer, deemed her lost to despair, needing 'psycho-therapy'...That's the real crime here...I gave up...Yet, someone as ignorant as he, struck her chords in a few instances, albeit the method being unorthodox…"

"Also, why didn't Melony heal him as soon as we sedated him? Why after?"

"We had to test what Meta-human traits he had. Plus, my friend Dr. Freud had to maintain the illusion of a plain room, as well as Grey's injuries to test his memory and sanity. With regards to my previous point, his dialogue with the combusken was mostly, if not, exclusively external. Not internal like a Psychic, telekinetic connection. But then again, he could be a passive psionic, bypassing the need for information conversion and instantly understanding 'pokéspeak'."

"Who is he, really?"

Daniel, considering he might've been getting a bit delirious himself, placed a hand on the cool windowpane; a headache forming with his mind going at jet speed, but he largely ignored it in both his giddiness and nervousness.

"A valuable subject to have under our lab's name in any case, and a pokédex holder...But, truthfully? I feel like, either I've just spoken with a ghost, as you mentioned...Or we've just witnessed the birth of a pair of prodigies...Either that or…"

"Or what?"

The elder researcher turned to gaze at his unsettled assistant.

"Or, I've just unleashed a pair of monsters into the world…"

Only time will tell...

…