PMD: The Pilot

The idea revolted me when it was first presented, and I was not the only one to harbor this feeling. The others were as shocked as I was at the mere mention of such a grotesque idea. We dismissed it immediately. To us, this was something that not only could not be done, but also should not be done.

--
"Prepare for a day's march. The Shadowlanders are to attack Bluegrass Grotto."

The laughter and jubilant chatter that had once filled the dining room immediately died. All eyes shifted toward a figure in the doorway, a lean-muscled Feraligatr who stood shadowed against the light coming from outside. Its orange eyes were determined. Resigned.

There was a silence in the room.

"...My lady Fingarl," said a Bisharp finally, swirling a deep blue liquid in a glass, his voice sounding indifferent and tired. "Must you always deliver news in such a brash manner? Last week when you barged in screaming about a thief spotted near Figy Village I nearly jumped out of my seat. A little subtlety every once in a while would be good for keeping my blades sharp as I age."

Fingarl glared at the Bisharp, but ignored him pointedly. "My spies returned with this news just now, confirming our suspicions that a Shadowland encampment lay nearby, in Magic Falls. With this, they also brought me the afforementioned news that an attack is imminent."

"Hang on a minute," said a Floatzel, holding up a hand. "Why are we being sent down there? Surely one of the other teams in the Faction can handle it?"

Fingarl shook her head. "This is a greater force than normal. Our superior skills, along with the efforts of several teams that will be accompanying us, are what is needed. This is a strike that cannot be ignored or taken lightly. In addition, Bluegrass Grotto is a village that is key to some very important trade routes."

"A smart move by old Kalterax..." mused a Breloom, leaning back in its chair.

"Indeed," Fingarl agreed. "Now quit dawdling and pack your things this instant. We leave at dawn."

"Can we not finish our meal at least, Lady Fingarl?" Said a rigid-looking Empoleon. The question had been asked genuinely, without any hint of disrespect or whininess. He was good at hiding that.

"For every bite you take," said Fingarl, closing in on the Empoleon sitting at the corner of the table. He cringed visibly, despite himself. "Distance could be covered, and lives could be saved instead. Ask yourself then--is that food worth more than they are?" The powerful water-type punctuated her last sentence by slamming her blue-skinned fist on the table, sending more than a few nearby utensils into the air.

The Empoleon shook his head. Then, swallowing, he pushed his plate away.

Down the table a ways, near the opposite end, a Scrafty watched Fingarl with half-closed eyes. He wanted to open his mouth to speak, to call her out in front of everyone. Like he should do, in his opinion. Instead, he set his jaw, and just shook his head. "You ain't no Edward," he mumbled under his breath, much to quiet for anyone to hear. "Give a damn what he thought about you as a trainee ten years ago, you still more green than a Bulbasaur."

Chairs squeaked against the wooden floors as they were slid back, the fourteen Pokemon at the table beginning to disperse at varying levels of motivation, some hurrying off, and some doing what looked more like slinking. Fingarl watched them with her arms crossed, a hard look in her eyes as she regarded the team she inherited--what remained of the legendary Ossis Order. She shook her head at how sad it looked now when compared to its former glory of a decade prior.

They'll come around eventually, she thought, her eyes softening just slightly. They're incredibly talented, but I know deep down they can't become as great as before without the leadership they once had. I just need to grow as a leader and they need to accept me as one, or whichever comes first. But if neither happen anytime soon, then I fear it may spell the end of the Ossis Order, only permanently this time.

Fingarl sighed, then turned to leave the room.

"Hang on there, Fingarl."

The Feraligatr paused, looking over her shoulder. It was Virtigo, the aptly-named Flygon that had a severe, nearly crippling fear of heights. What her true name had been before, Fingarl could not recall. Virtigo seemed to have embraced that nickname completely, as she had apparently not referred to herself as anything else for over a decade. She was one of only three original members of the Ossis Order that remained with its new incarnation.

The large green dragon sidled up to Fingarl smoothly, her tail dragging across the ground like a snake moving in reverse. Fingarl turned to face the Flygon, then frowned slightly as she noticed the little brown Pokemon Virtigo was leading forward.

"Agdane is coming with us," Virtigo explained, noticing Fingarl's expression. "He needs the experience."

"What?!" She glanced down at the Cubone, who looked back up at her through the eye sockets of the skull over his head, his expression unreadable. "This is to be an extremely dangerous mission, Miss Virtigo!" She said, lowering her voice slightly.

Virtigo let out a laugh and smirked. Her acting so smooth and nonchalant seemed so fake to Fingarl now. Every time she did it, Fingarl was reminded of just how deep and terribly that fear of heights was in the Flygon. She would never forget it now, not ever.

"With me protecting him," Virtigo said. "I doubt he'll be in any real danger. Unless that danger is you smothering him too much, in which case I'm practically useless." Virtigo looked down at the Cubone and smiled, Agdane returning the expression while clutching his favorite bone. He was so quiet sometimes.

"I... can't possibly endanger Edward's son like this, Miss Virtigo. Shouldn't he be given more practice hours with Dulo before he's sent into real battle? Maybe allowed to... get a little older?"

"Fingarl, the boy is almost fifteen. He's practically an adult. And besides, he won't actually be fighting in the battle, should there be one, just watching from the sidelines. It'll be a good experience for him!"

Fingarl eyed Agdane with a critical glare, chewing on her tongue. "Fine," she finally said. "But the boy will not leave the sights of mine or yours for the entire trip."

"Deal," Virtigo said smoothly. "I'll try not to let him have any fun for the time being." She once again shared a smile with Agdane. "Hope you're prepared for tomorrow, kiddo." It took Fingarl a moment to realize it had been directed at her.

"Huh?"

Virtigo looked to the side, a knowing look showing through the red lenses that covered her eyes. "A hunch, my dear. I have a feeling tomorrow will be quite... interesting."

Fingarl frowned. "That is exactly what I'm hoping to prevent by sending this team out there." The Feraligatr regarded Virtigo through narrowed eyes. "What... exactly do you expect to happen?"

The Flygon shrugged casually, preparing to turn away. "Like I said, something of a hunch. I've had this feeling before. My instincts about these kinds of things are rarely wrong, my dear." And then, she and Agdane were gone, leaving Fingarl with an odd sensation of deja vu.

Fingarl stood for a moment, looking confused. What kinds of things?, she wanted to ask the old Flygon, but she knew she would only get another cryptic answer from her. Still, it would be foolish to completely disregard her disguised warning--she had said something along those lines before.

Yes, Fingarl thought as she turned and walked through the doorway out of the dining hall. She had said that before. It was before Edward disappeared. I don't think her species has the ability to tell the future, but I know some Pokemon just have good instincts about when something important is about to happen. Does she maybe think this attack on Bluegrass Grotto is going to be worse than anticipated? Surely if that were true, she wouldn't risk lives and be cryptic about it and instead tell us right out. She must just be making sport of me, then. I don't even blame her. I must look like a blathering fool in comparison to the team leader she used to have. Virtigo, Akra, and Perron  probably wish they were leading the team rather than myself. Akra wasn't even at the dining hall just then either. He probably thinks this team is a joke.

She let her negativity fade away as she entered her room, and began packing one of the team's bags for the following day's trip.

--

Yellow rays of sunlight softly shone through the darkened canopy of leaves above, giving just enough illumination for the Pokemon below to see and be warmed by. The forest was quiet this morning, perhaps more so than most others, but there was danger behind even the most minute of sounds. Birds chirping, leaves rustling, even the wind itself could harm. To survive was to embrace paranoia and trust one's instinct, and disregard all else.

Six did not trust the birds, the trees, or the wind. It seemed all three had tried to kill him on separate occasions, and all at once on one unfortunate scavenging run in particular. Everything was always out to get him, he knew, and the only thing that seemed to keep him alive was to fight back. When he hid, something found him. When he tried to reason with them, the other creatures, they never talked back and instead attacked or ran away. He had long since given up speaking--it was no use to him anyhow, since all it seemed to do was anger those other creatures or give away his hiding place. All that mattered now was survival.

And counting.

One, two, three, four, five...

The yellow-furred mouse mentally counted his first cautious steps of the new day from his den. The den was nothing special, just a hole in the dirt under a nearly-dead tree that Six had stolen from some type of poisonous purple-scaled snake. Six grimaced every time he remembered the flavor of the serpent. He hadn't expected it to be so greasy, but he had eaten things that were far more nauseating in the name of staving off hunger. Fortunately, his apparent control over electricity allowed him to strike birds out of the sky, which were often much tastier, though most knew to avoid flying low enough for Six to zap them with any accuracy.

Six wasn't sure how he controlled it, or if he even did at all. He just seemed to imagine himself full of power, then letting that power loose to hit an enemy, and it usually worked. At times, however, it would seem to shock everywhere except his target, jolting in every direction across the ground and then dissapating harmlessly. If he knew how it worked he may be able to figure it out, but the only thing he knew for sure was that it came from his cheeks, of all places. What a strange place to conduct electricity that was.

Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven...

Today's foraging run would take him seven-thousand, eight-hundred steps to the west--the furthest he had yet gone in that direction and from his den entirely. He used the sun as an indicator of direction, knowing it set in the west but not sure where that knowledge came from, to guide his way. Winding a straight path through the thick dark trunks of trees scattered about could be especially difficult, but with the sun to guide, Six had yet to get lost in the seventy-one previous excursions. His survival was due in part to his knack for direction--he could tell each tree apart in some small way and noticed things that seemed too insignificant to even bother looking at--and it always lead him back to his den. His home.

No, he thought, pausing mid-step to not lose count. Not a home. A shelter. This isn't home.

Six knew he was supposed to be human. He knew it like he knew he was alive, as if it wasn't something that was up for debate or scrutiny--it was fact as fact could be. Part of his mind, the ever-present skeptical part, thought he was downright mad. He was quite plainly a... whatever he was, and certainly not a human. At least not in any physical sense. Yet at the same time, there was always a constant nagging feeling that he just did not fit at all into this new environment, not necessarily from an ecological standpoint--though he'd seen none so far that looked anything like him--but in a wordly sense. This place felt completely alien to him. He felt as if three months ago he suddenly woke up from a life-long coma with memories of dreams that he just could not quite recall. He thought for a time that he had been like those other creatures before--feral beasts not capable of higher thought, living only by instinct. Six wagered it was a fair assumption for a little while.

When the dreams--those awful, horrible, twisted dreams--started to hit him, however, his assumptions changed.

Six noted small details along the way. A notch in a tree here, a hole in the ground there, a nest up above. Not only were they food prospects for the return trip, they were also very useful for finding the way back. Life seemed abundant everywhere in this forest, despite the extreme hostility he had witnessed first-hand thus far. Perhaps they didn't attack each other near as much as they attacked him?

Nine hundred ninety-nine, one thousand, one thousand one...

One thousand steps and nothing had attacked him. Today was already better than the previous day, where it seemed every creature in the entire forest had gotten together and decided that day would be the day they finally got rid of that electric mouse. Of course, they were unsuccessful as they always were. But by five hundred steps, he'd already fought five bloody battles and noticed a significant drop in his electrical conjuring as he became tired (perhaps the electricity came from his own energy?). The wilds would get him one day. He knew it was only a matter of time.

In the meantime, all the fighting was an excellent way to keep his mind occupied. His sanity may very well had left him long ago if he wasn't constantly challenged to a fight--essentially a game of wits when your foe knew what they were doing. It kept him sharp and, though he wouldn't dare admit it, he had felt himself starting to enjoy the fights, or at least the glorious feeling of a hard-fought victory in a battle to the death. One hundred and three. That was the number of fights he had counted, not counting the ones he had run from. One hundred and three fights to the death, one hundred and three victories. How long before his perfect record was broken?

Two-thousand five-hundred and twelve, two thousand five-hundred and thirteen...

The forest seemed to never end. Six felt himself growing tense. All this distance and hardly a foe spotted meant, surely, he was overdue.

Three-thousand and eight, three thousand and--

Plants rustled somewhere to his left. Six felt his head rush with adrenaline as he whirled around and, feeling the static gather around him, loosed a bolt of bright yellow-white electricity in the direction the sound came from. The arc streaked through the air, crackling with power, and struck a green-leafed bush. It ignited almost instantly, small tongues of flame dancing in several places along the outside leaves, singing them. The bush crackled for a moment with left-over electricity, then the small fires started to die and become wisps, the healthy plant too moist to burn entirely.

Nothing emerged.

Narrowing his eyes, Six focused on the shrub for a few moments, before turning back to his path.

Something blue dropped from above, and the next thing Six knew he was tumbling backward on the forest floor, throwing up leaves and dirt, with a kick to the chest. Grunting, Six planted his hands on the crunching leaves to stop his roll and pushed himself to his feet. He stood on two feet and glared at his foe, sparks already dancing on his cheeks.

His attacker was a blue frog-like creature with what looked like white bubbles around its neck. It was in a crounched position, though its posture looked like it was more ready to relax than to pounce. Whatever this creature was, it wasn't anything Six had seen before. Perhaps the further out he went, the more different species he would encounter. This added another level of unpredictability that he knew was extremely dangerous.

Six roared--at least as best as he could in his high-pitched voice--and sent a bolt of gathered electricity streaking toward the blue frog. It's yellow eyes opened up wide as it dodged to the side, the lightning leaving a smoldering patch of dead leaves where it had been. Six resisted the urge to cock his head--hardly anything had so far been able to dodge his lightning attacks. Whatever this thing was, it was fast.

Six just needed to be faster.

The blue creature barely had time to react as Six instantly closed their distance and slammed his head into it's body, sending them both rolling down a steep forest incline. They clung to each other in their roll, but Six did hardly any attacking. He was too focused on the cursing he swore he heard coming from this frog creature as it struggled against him. Was it really... talking?

No. It's just my imagination again, Six thought as the pair continued roughly down the hill. These creatures don't talk. I've tried before.

They crashed through a bush at the bottom of the incline, slowing nearly to a stop. The blue frog slapped Six across the face, catching him off guard and causing him to loosen his grip. It took this opportunity and tried to jump away.

Oh no you don't!

Six caught its ankle and it crashed back to the ground, yelping as its head hit the dry leaves and hard ground underneath. Whirling its head around, a powerful jet of water shot from its mouth and slammed into Six's face while it struggled desparately to break free. Six held on. The yellow mouse grit his teeth against the torrent turning his head down to bear it. He summoned the static in the air around him, feeling like a muscle about to flex, and he began sparking. Then, he shut his eyes tightly and released the gathered electricity, exploding with yellow-white power and sending the electrical current through his hand still attached to the blue frog's ankle. It screamed as it was electrocuted, cutting off its onslaught of water into Six's face, and then went limp as soon as he cut the power, still smoking a bit.

Thump, thump...

Each fight was still exhilarating to him, even after the hundreds of scuffles he'd seen himself through. His heart raced, and his breathing was labored. He was covered in scratches from the tumble down the hill and was soaking wet... but he had won once again. This new thing had snuck up on him and even displayed a power he was not accustomed to, and he still managed to survive.

And now...

Six stood over the odd water-imbued creature, a feeling of victorious dominance welling up inside him momentarily, though it was quickly replaced by a grim, sombering feeling. He reached down to roll the frog over by one of its arms. Its skin was cool and moist to the touch, causing Six to hesitate slightly, but he turned it over anyway. It was still breathing, but appeared to be unconscious. Six sighed.

Right... better do this quick.

The creature's eyes snapped open.

"W-Wait! No!"

Six froze in place. His eyes grew wide and his mouth hung agape as it stared down at the frog-like creature, who was cringing and covering its eyes with its hands, trembling. There was no doubt in Six's mind--this creature had just talked! It had spoken real words he could understand, instead of simple garbled growls or yelps. No, he had understood exactly what it had just said! It said... it...

It was pleading for its life, Six realized. He suddenly felt awful, backing away one or two steps and shaking his head. The frog creature stopped trembling after a few moments and opened one eye, glancing at Six. He looked frightened, but also shocked, at him.

They made solid eye contact for a time in silence, Six's black eyes staring into this frog-like creature's yellow eyes, and they staring back for what felt like an eternity. Neither made any sound. Only the shifting wind blowing through the leafy branches of the surrounding trees could be heard as a precious moment of recognition passed between them. Six was speechless, and the frog seemed too shaken up to speak any words, but something was communicated between them that neither would ever be able to describe.

"Y-You," the blue frog finally croaked in a still-shaken voice. "You're not one of them... are you?"

Six was silent. He couldn't find the words. He hadn't spoken in so long. Besides, what could he even say? He had questions and statements ruthlessly rioting in his head to be let out, but he couldn't choose any or even figure out how to ask or say them. None seemed appropriate.

"You aren't a feral... are you?" The blue frog stopped trembling, though its eyes were still very afraid. "You s-stopped when I yelled. Ferals d-don't do stuff like that."

Six's eyes darted side to side. There was an immediate instinct to escape; to run away and hide back in his hole. He quickly squashed this instinct, his curiosity being too much. He needed to say something, anything! He had been stuck in a nightmare alone for ninety-eight days with not a single intelligent creature around to turn to for answers, stuck in a body that he knew was not his, all the while being attacked by seemingly magical creatures several times each day that fought only to kill. He could not, and would not, let this opportunity to talk to another intelligent being pass, be it mouse, tree, or blue frog that can spit water from its mouth at high speeds.

The frog waited expectantly as Six opened his mouth to speak. He sputtered, stumbling over half-words and wordless sounds with his hands out in front of him, gesticulating as if they would help draw the right words out. He couldn't just say anything--he had to speak with tact if he didn't want to just scare the poor creature off. He needed to say something that wouldn't write him off as immediately crazy.

"...I am..." Six's voice was dry and gravelly, like one that had not been used in a long time. "I'm a... h... human."

The blue frog cocked his head, looking confused, and Six mentally cursed himself. Why did I say that?! Well, there goes that opportunity.

"Uh. Hu... man?" The word seemed foreign on the frog's tongue. "Don't know what you mean by that, but what you do look like is a perfectly normal Pikachu to me." The frog's face became concerned. "Are you... okay?"

Pikachu. Is that what I am? What my species is called? I wonder what his species is called? And how many are there? Oh, what am I thinking? This creature could be more insane than I am. For crying out loud, he claims he doesn't know what a human is! Though... nothing has made sense up to this point. Would it be such a far cry to think that there aren't any humans around this area? I wonder what else this frog knows...

"Hello?" The frog's voice broke Six out of his thoughts. He hadn't noticed it standing or moving nearer to him. Six shook his head and blinked at the frog. "Hey, you're back! Looked like I lost you there for a moment. Did you maybe hit your head or something?" The frog creature beamed, looking as if it forgot that not long ago Six had nearly killed him. Or did it even know that's what he planned to do? "Do you have a name? I don't want to have to call you 'Pika' or 'Pikachu' or something silly like that! I'm Remmy, by the way!"

Six hesitated. "My... my name?" He furrowed his brow, looking as if he just realized he left something behind. When had he taken to thinking of himself as 'Six'? That wasn't his name and he knew it somehow. But then, what was? Nothing else, not even a first letter, surfaced in his mind's eye. He was stumped.

"Yeah? Your name? What is it?" The frog creature, Remmy, seemed anxious.

"I... I don't remember." Six felt numb at uttering the words. "I can't remember my name."

Remmy raised an eyebrow. "You... what? Oh man, you must have hit your head really hard to have forgotten your own name! I guess that would also explain why you're all the way out here in these woods all by yourself!"

Six looked around at the forest distractedly at Remmy's mention of the woods.

"...That's alright, friend!" Remmy continued. "I forget things all the time! Like... the way out of here!" Remmy laughed but was obviously very troubled by that. "What can I call you, then? See that's the neat part about not knowing your own name. You get to pick a new one that you've always wanted to be called."

"Six," the Pikachu said simply, his throat scratchy.

"Six? Well that's uh..." Remmy looked off to the side, then back to Six, smiling. "Well I think it's a funny name!"

Then he laughed. Riotously. Six was taken aback at the way this 'Remmy' was acting. Wasn't he wary of Six? They had just fought and Six nearly tried to... well he didn't want to think about what could have happened. He was no longer interested at all in what the creature would have tasted like.

Can't think like that, Six told himself. I'm not a wild animal. I'm a man. A normal, sane man.

Remmy's laughing slowed to a chuckle, then he suddenly stuck out his hand to Six. "It's nice to meet you, Six! That was a good fight we had back there!" Hesitantly, warily, Six took Remmy's cool, wet hand and shook it. "Though I think I would have had you if you didn't have the type advantage there! Er... sorry about attacking you out of the blue back there by the way. I thought you were a feral, so I was just trying to knock you out and be on my way. I was... scared, you know? I lost my way a little, you see..."

Six still found it hard to form any words into sentences. He just didn't know what to say or how to say it unless he really thought about it.

"...Feral? Do others," Six began, somewhat awkwardly in its tone. "Are others... Do others have intelligence like you and me?"

Remmy blinked, starting to show a little worry. Six felt the need to quickly explain himself.

"Remmy," Six began, releasing the frog's hand. "I'm not... I don't belong here. Trust me, I know this sounds crazy, but I am supposed to be a human. I haven't talked to another person in three months, and in that time I have not recognized a single creature I have come across." Six hesitated, then his eyes became desparate. Pleading. "I... I'm confused. I don't know where I'm supposed to be, but I know it isn't here. Please, Remmy. Please help me. I need answers. I need for things to make sense. I don't think my mind can take much more of this!"

Remmy backed away, his look of worry deepening. "Whoa, whoa! Calm down, Six! Relax, you're gonna be okay! I can answer anything you wanna know if it'll make you feel better!" Remmy let out a sigh. "Again I'll say that I have no idea what you mean by 'human', so I might not be of much help there. But since it sounds like you up and forgot just about everything, I bet I can tell you lots that would help you... you know, get your bearings again! Okay?"

Six nodded, feeling the slightest bit of relief.

"Okay. I'm... I'm okay. First of all, where am I," Six asked eagerly. "And what are you?"

Six winced at the surely odd-sounding line of questioning, but Remmy seemed hardly affected. He just smiled. "My species are called Froakie," he said, and then made a wide gesture at the surrounding trees. "And we're smack-dab in the middle of Tin Woods!"

"Tin Woods..." Six did not recall knowing a place by that name. But then, he didn't recall much at all. "You called me a... Pikachu, right? I've become some type of... animal then?"

"Animal? I guess. We say Pokemon! And yellow fur, long black-tipped ears, lightning bolt tail... sure as I'm a water-type, you look like a normal, healthy Pikachu in every way." Remmy shook his head. "To forget your own species. Must have been rough for you, all that time completely in the dark."

"It was..." Six shook his head, pushing memories of swimming through a deep gray fog from his mind. It was a memory that came up every once in a while, and almost always when he tried to recall anything before his life as a 'Pikachu', as Remmy called him. Like much of his life, Six had no explanation for the memory, nor had he once seen fog quite like that in the past few months. The scene in his head felt so... out of place from other memories.

"...It'll be dark if we don't start heading back soon," Remmy mumbled, distractedly looking upwards. To this, Six raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't it still morning?"

"Yeah, but I live kind of a loooong ways from here. I, uh... kinda got lost on the way here." Remmy laughed sheepishly.

Oh right, Six thought, feeling crestfallen. I was just about to ask if he could take me to some type of civilization. There goes that, I guess.

Seeing the look on Six's face, Remmy quickly added, "B-But I do know of one sure way back! It's kind of a shortcut, too!"

Six perked up, eyes widening. "You do? Back to some type of city?"

Remmy rubbed his head. "Well, back to my house. But I live close to a pretty populated town--AH!" Remmy was cut off as Six grabbed him by the shoulders, a hungry look in his eyes. The Froakie cringed.

"Take me," Six said, his voice hardly a whisper. "Take me back to the real world."

"S-Sure, f-friend!" Remmy stammered, peeling himself from Six's grip. "There's just one problem about that shortcut, though."

Six hesitated, releasing Remmy. "What's wrong with it? Broken bridges? Dangerous ani-... uh, Pokemon?"

Remmy shook his head.

"No," he said, his yellow eyes looking grim. "It's a Mystery Dungeon."