"You have no new messages."

I almost pulled the phone off of its wall mount and threw it across the room, though I settled instead for hanging up as loudly as possible as though it were any sort of defiant act. The answering machine had not given me any good news in its unfeeling, disjointed voice. It would have be to unfeeling to tell me that I'd have to spend another day stranded in Viridian City without an apology.

Dejected and now finding my rush to get out of bed so early futile, I slipped back beneath the covers, drew a deep breath, and settled my head and upper back against the flimsy headboard. It was all I could do anymore, so fed up of waiting for the call that never came. I grabbed the glass of water by the bedside, long-since turned warm from when I got it from the tap before bed, and took a long gulp. It was a reprieve from the taste of morning that hung in my mouth until I could break through the apathy enough to go brush my teeth. I put it down, then pulled a cigarette from the box beside it and the lighter atop the box, lighting it in my mouth and taking a long pull. The nicotine rush that hit me dulled my frustrations a little and helped assuage the increasing fury bubbling inside me.

When would I be free from this place?

As a Pokemon Ranger, my job was to protect wild Pokemon and trainers alike, often from each other and themselves. I'd taken quite well to the job, getting to the bottom of a poaching ring and helping subdue a herd of Tauros that had ramped through much of Cerulean City a few years earlier. I'd done so well that the upper brass promoted me and put me on the task force for one of the worst threats Kanto had ever faced: Team Rocket. A crime ring with their fingers in every pie and a flagrant disrespect for the things I sought to uphold, they were a menace that had to be put down before they could extend their power elsewhere. Seeing Saffron city, my hometown and their main base of operations, twisted into a fetid metropolis of corruption and fear by them made it personal. For two years I worked tirelessly, shutting down small operations, bringing in members, interrogating, working my way up.

Then, one afternoon, the bottom fell out. I was about to move in on one of Team Rocket's execs, only for it to stop abruptly. Some kid had done it for me. A rookie trainer from Pallet Town just trying to get all of his badges somehow lucked his way into taking down the organization himself. Giovanni and some the other higher-ups went into hiding, and we simply cleaned up the rest. Two years of work, and it was all for nothing because some kid and his Blastoise kicked down a door.

The massive team handling the case dissolved and dispersed. Some were kept on to track Giovanni and the others, but I wasn't named one of them. I wasn't named anything.

The mis-management of the Kanto Pokemon Rangers became apparent. Local outposts had their ranks full, and the resulting flood of now position-less rangers brought on for the case overwhelmed the people up top. There were transfers to other regions, attempts to over-staff high traffic areas. They were doing everything they can, and succeeding.

Except for me. I fell through the cracks.

Until they found me something, I was on exile in Viridian City. A week I'd been here, cooped up in the cramped lodgings of the cheapest roach motel in town-the only one they agreed to cover for me. Slowly my patience and sanity whittled into nothing. Had I known it was going to be so long, I could have instead gone home to Saffron and waited it out. My parents wouldn't have minded me sticking around a week or two until something could be find. It was too late for that though, knowing that with my luck I'd arrive home just as they stationed me in Viridian.

So instead, I watched the three television channels I got and taught myself card tricks. I'd go for an hour-long run with my Pokemon every afternoon, make a trip to the laundromat every third day, and get some take-out from the hole-in-the-wall burger joint across the street for dinner each night. I resented the boring day-to-day routine almost as much as I resented my bosses for putting me through this shit.

I let out a long exhale, watching the grey smoke billow out of my mouth before taking another puff. A week earlier, I had been on the verge of quitting, but the stress wore me down, and now tobacco constituted the only thing keeping me sane in this tacky, fake-wood-wallpapered prison. The next step up was alcohol, and if I didn't find work soon, I worried just may end up down the path. At least back home, I would have human contact outside the daily visit from housekeeping and the pimply-faced, greasy-haired teenager working the counter at the burger joint.

No, it wasn't right to judge him; at least he was going somewhere. I hadn't even heard back as to whether I'd be getting paid for any of the wait or if it would come out of vacation days.

Hence, the dairy. So far from human contact and slowly going mad at the only voice speaking being my own, I figured constructing my thoughts in a healthier way would help. It remains to be seen if that will work.

When my cigarette finished and I found even less worth watching than usual on the small, criminally outdated television set, I decided to take my run early. Kicking my way out of bed, I shuffled over to the clean set of clothes I laid out to kill a few minutes the night before. My ranger uniform was a bit stuffy for a summer morning and not too practical for mere jogging wear, but I wanted to look the part at all times. I pulled the long-sleeved orange vest over the black t-shirt I slept in, then pulled the black pants on. The belt went next, followed by various things that went on the belt; a length of rope, a walkie-talkie that I expected to remain silent the whole time, a flashlight, my sidearm, and a few other useful items. Even more things went into the pockets of the vest. Finally, my brown work boots, and the orange hat bearing the logo of the rangers. Dressed, I set off outside.

After clearing the full parking lot, I grabbed the Pokeballs from my belt one by one, letting them out. I knew the importance of keeping myself and them fit in the lull of my involuntary vacation. The sole omission was Lapras, who would get nothing from an on-land jog and slow us down. Standing on the barely-trafficked sidewalk, I led my Pokemon in a quick stretch before they started their run, mostly for my own sake. The hotel bed where I spent most my days led to a lot of stiffness.

The Charizard, Nidorino, Vileplume, and Heracross joined me, and after forming a line, we set out at a nice, brisk pace. It was the same pace I ran at during drills back at the academy, one I insisted on keeping steady whenever I jogged. It felt familiar to me, and I liked having some familiarity to keep me company. Viridian was not a town I knew well, and the nostalgic sound of boots hitting the ground in perfect time brought me back to when life wasn't a bore and when my entire career's work wouldn't be dissolved in a flash by some kid.

Admittedly, I was a little bitter about it. Endeavouring not to let it ruin my morning, I tried to push it from my mind and focus instead on the open sidewalk in front of me. There was a nice breeze picking up and pressing against my face, cooling me a little and relieving me of some lingering tiredness.

My usual route took me just to the southernmost tip of Viridian Forest, then back down. Everything was fine, until on the way down, I found a narrow space of trail occupied by an old man who stood in the middle of it. While it wasn't necessarily a problem for me, as I could squeeze through, I looked back and saw Charizard, who would have mowed the man right over. I reached out with my arm, elbow bent outward and slowing my pace, the Pokemon matching until we came to a stop a few feet away.

I cleared my throat and said, "Excuse me sir, but you're in the middle of the road."

The man didn't move. He stood toward me, his head leaned forward, eyes down at the ground. A thin, inexpensive wooden cane stood upright, and his shoulders pitched forward so that he could walk with it properly, it being a few inches too small for him to use with decent posture. There was an abnormal thinness to him, even the small clothes seeming baggy on him, like he was underfed. His face was similarly gaunt and pulled back, bony and hawkish. Though going bald, there were tufts of grey hair on the back sides of his head, and the strands all looked greasy, thin, and dead.

"Ah, I've had my morning coffee and now I feel great." He sounded neither great nor caffeinated, speaking in an empty tone that dragged its feet across the ground limply. It was so bereft of life that it fit his empty, withered visage well. Either time had been cruel to this man in his old age, or something had drawn from him every last ounce of life until he was at the baseline of existence. "Sure you can pass."

"Sir, are you okay?" I asked, taking a step toward him and reaching my hand out. I wasn't entirely sure about touching him, in case there was some disease going around, so I kept my distance.

"Are you in a hurry?" he droned, his tone so empty and lacking inflection it was only a question on a grammatical level.

"I am, actually. We were in the middle of a run, I'm sorry."

"I see you're using a Pokedex. When you catch a Pokemon, the Pokedex is automatically updated. What, you don't know how to catch a Pokemon?"

I looked back at the five behind me, and doubted very much that he was even having a conversation with me. Likely, he was delusional, schizophrenia explaining his haggard appearance. I could bring him back to a Pokemon Center where they could figure out where he lived or if he had family to pick him up.

"I'll show you how to catch one."

He took a step forward, so awkward and graceless that I gasped out, fearing he'd fall over. It was a weak step, like someone coming out of a year-long coma and trying to walk again. Another, and his wraith-like arm reached over, fingers digging into his pockets. A Weedle emerged from the bushes, the only thing in the world moving slower than the delirious old man. His fingers drew a Pokeball, lobbing it so weakly I was astounded it travelled the distance, harmlessly rolling into the Weedle, who didn't struggle inside the ball.

Charizard made a loud grunting sound and everything got a little warmer for a second. Nobody was appreciating the hold-up.

"First you need to weaken the target."

To my surprise, he moved over, standing aside and giving us all a clear way through. Eagerly I set out to get away from the strange man and his 'helpful' advice. Only a few feet away, though, the radio on my belt buzzed.

"This is an emergency, all rangers able to make it, please come to Cinnabar Island. There is a disaster off the east coast and we need help. I repeat, please send all free rangers to Cinnabar Island."

Before even thinking, I grabbed the Pokeballs for four of the five currently released Pokemon. I called all back but Charizard, throwing the rest of my jog away. "We're helping," I said, and the fire Pokemon nodded as I climbed onto his back and he set off. This was my chance to do something, to help people again and maybe even impress my way into a position somewhere.

Flying atop a Charizard's back was an incredible feeling, especially once we pushed past Pallet Town and hit open water. Even high above the water, the smell of salt in the air made each breath a gulp of life. It refreshed me, revitalized my tired, sore body and cynical mind. It was life, filling my lungs with each deep inhale. Freedom, a whole world before me to explore once again. It would almost certainly be a fleeting task that could well be done by the time I got there, but for that instant I felt alive again. So alive, in fact, that I let out a loud, triumphant scream.

Charizard was fast, and not quite as taken by the beauty of the outdoors as I was. He moved swiftly, getting us to Cinnabar in what felt like record time. As we reached the island's eastern coast, we sank closer to sea level.

Pokemon scrambled everywhere, as did rangers. There was panic on the beaches about something, and as they got closer, it became clear. The water moved in strange ways, waves moving in clear defiance of every law of physics, as though existing outside of our reality. We touched down on the beachhead where a ranger commander stood. "Ranger Charles Maher," I introduced myself, extending a hand. "One of the in-limbo rangers from the Team Rocket task force. I was in Viridian when I got the radio alert."

The commander was a tall man, built with lots of very carefully sculpted muscle. His sandy brown hair was kept short and blended a bit with his very tanned skin. "Ranger Commander Jones," he said, shaking my hand. "I'm impressed you came so quickly, boy. That's some rather fast flying."

"Thank you. What's the situation?"

"The tides. Swimmers trapped, mass panic, and Pokemon are coming out of the water who have never been reported anywhere near this region before. Violent Pokemon"

"How many are trapped?"

"We've counted two, at least. One's a young boy, really far out there. His mother is in hysterics."

I looked up at Charizard, who nodded. "How many are in the air already? We'll join them."

"Oh, none. We called the extra help to hold these feral attackers at bay; I'm not risking anyone going out there into some freak storm."

"There's a boy trapped out there, and he might be alive." I climbed onto Charizard's back again. "We'll find him."

"Boy, you're not going out there. Don't be stupid."

"Too late."

No it wasn't. But, after a week of nothing, this was my chance. To help someone, to make a name for myself again, to accomplish something. Accomplish anything. There was a desperate need in me to risk it all like some movie hero, but I had to prove myself. This was my chance to save a life and get somewhere other than that awful motel room. My whole career had, ultimately, accomplished next to nothing. This would give it worth.

The best way to describe the sight before me would be to compare it to a water spout, except it was practically a wall keeping people out. A massive wall of water, crashing against some invisible boundary as Pokemon emerged from it, angrily. Thunder and flame struck the advancing Pokemon, who fell back into the water. None of it made the slightest bit of sense, especially when Pokemon like Charizard, Marowak, and Magnemite, certainly not aquatic Pokemon, emerged.

My own Charizard brought me high up, over the wall of water. Behind it, we found the sea rocking like it was in the midst of some awful storm, but there didn't seem to be a cloud in the sky, nor any hurricanes. Still, the waves crashed into each other tumultuously, not safe for anybody to swim in. We went down low, keeping a safe distance above the water but able to look for the boy.

We found him surprisingly quickly, actually, clutching to a large inner tube that served as the only thing keeping him afloat. Charizard moved quickly toward him, reaching down to grab him, when the noise came.

It was a noise that did not exist in nature and could not have come from a living creature. There were multiple levels to how fundamentally wrong it sounded to my ears, just as there seemed multiple levels of voices mingled in the sound. It was like a thousand different sorts of Pokemon all crying out in utter anguish, the sound stretched over a time longer than it should have been, and then run through computer effects a hundred times. After two seconds I gagged, my entire body aching with inexplicable pain as I vomited into the sea.

Still, I mustered up the strength to get Lapras out, worried that there were indeed a thousand Pokemon on the way and we needed to fight, or at least bide some time. My ice Pokemon could hold off a group better than my fire type, even when he wasn't flying a rescue mission.

As we neared the boy, my head darting around to see what had made that hellish scream, something came up from the water between us and the boy. What it was defied all logic and everything I knew about the world around me. It wasn't a solid form, far as I could tell, made up of constantly shifting colours and things that would almost be objects if they appeared to belong on this plane at all. Yellows, browns, purples, and colours that did not have names moved with an indescribably unsettling motion all over. Everything swirled together in a random blob that seemed fluid as the water around it, shape moving about. It distorted everything behind it, like water vapour on an oppressive summer afternoon would make objects in the distance warp and dance.

It made that scream again, my body tightening in on itself as nothing else in my stomach could be ejected, but it still tried. I noticed that it wasn't displaced the water it rose from, and clearly see-through, it seemed to not disturb the surface in the slightest. Whatever it was could move through the water like air, as though it was merely a shadow cast from some other reality.

"A-attack!" I groaned weakly, my body aching. All of my strength was squarely on holding tightly to Charizard so that the rapids wouldn't claim me. The two Pokemon, in unison, loosed beams of fire and ice that struck it. The cry that followed was even worse; what previously had sounded tormented increased by orders of magnitude, agony so great that I nearly passed out simply from hearing it. Another united attack, and the screaming stopped. Just as it had appeared, it was gone, though the effects on me were still very present.

Everything became dim there as my body gave in to the pain and I faded in and out of consciousness seemingly every few seconds. Lapras somehow had returned to its Pokeball, and by the time I was fully aware again, I lay on the beach beside the boy, whose frayed mother held him close and wept joyfully. Charizard sat beside me, his tail waving over me slowly, trying to warm me.

"You did it boy," I no more than whispered, smiling the biggest smile my muscles could, which wasn't much. The battle zone that had been there previously was gone, the mysterious Pokemon retreated. Rangers moved to damage control, helping confused and scared people, coordinating with the ambulances to get injured Pokemon to safety.

Then, there was the commander, who knelt beside me when he noticed I was conscious. "You disobeyed orders, ran off into a freak storm nobody has ever witnessed before, and could have died."

"But we saved him."

"You did. And I suppose this is the part where I see your stupidity as bravery instead and offer you a job at my outpost."

"That would be pretty nice," I said, closing my eyes. "Although a burger would suffice."

"You've got somethin' kid. Said you were without a position? Let me call the head office, you're stationed on Cinnabar now."

The sweet words didn't even register to me as I slipped off into unconsciousness again, this time for a while. I was a hero now, had a job, and everything was going to work out.

Oh, how wrong I was.