Legacy: Chapter 3
#3 of Legacy
Jack dragged himself out of the water and examined his wound. The water had almost completely unravelled the rough bandage that covered the hole in his shoulder. Bloody strips hung loosely where they used to apply life-saving pressure, and the wound bled freely again. The area surrounding the wound was puffy and red. He poked it lightly with his finger and immediately winced from the pain. It was hot, and painful to touch.
He cursed. He was exhausted, starving, and now his wound was infected. He was dying.
"Plenty of fresh water, though." He laughed hoarsely, then fell to his knees and retched.
The forest began just a few feet from where he knelt in the sand, but the distance seemed massive. Putting his weight on his knee with his good arm, he pushed himself up out of the warm, soft sand into a standing position, and began to move.
The journey through the forest was not long, he knew. He'd made it several times before, but not under such dire circumstances. The most important part was to keep moving, keep pressing forward toward his destination.
And so he did, gathering what little edible fauna he could along the way, enough to keep his stomach from hurting but never enough to stave off hunger and make him comfortable. He kept close to the paths, but never walked on them. Surely there would be many, many Rockets searching for him so close to his hometown. They would be able to track him with ease. He fumbled and crashed about, practically dragging himself through the trees, and he knew it. But he had no time to bury his trace, and no energy.
Although he moved slowly, several times he had to stop so that he could catch his breath and adjust his dressing, now little more than loose rags that he tied ever more tightly. The wound did not bleed anymore so much as it oozed. Mostly clear fluid, with some darker colors that stank. Deep red lines snaked out under his skin, and he could feel his mind clouding.
He stopped near an oak in a small clearing, not planning to rest long but only to gather some things to chew. He spotted a thick root that he was familiar with, protruding from the ground next a bush. As he bent down to reach for it he heard a faint rustling in the brush.
He plucked the root from the ground, put it between his teeth and moved towards the suspicious plant. The rustling had stopped. He pried some branches apart, looking for the source of the sound, and suddenly an orange flash burst from its hiding spot in an explosion of foliage. The creature slammed into his chest, knocking him off his feet. He cried out at the pain in his shoulder as he flew backwards and landed hard on the ground. The world spun wildly, and Jack struggled to his knees in a hurry to defend himself from his attacker.
Across the clearing, only a few steps from where Jack knelt in the dirt, a twisted mess of orange fur pierced him with wild eyes. They were misshapen, blood-shot eyes, and they held the animalistic terror of a creature fighting for its very life. One eye was slightly larger than the other, and placed higher on the face. It struck what Jack could only assume to be some kind of defensive pose. But the shaking, uneven legs it stood upon served only to make it look disgusting and pathetic, not threatening. Trailing on the ground behind the sickly monster was a secondary tangle of fur that it almost seemed to be trying to use to balance.
"Oh god," said Jack. "Oh dear fucking god...are you a vulpix?"
The pokémon opened its mouth, presumably to make some sort of sound, but all that escaped was a pained gargle. Jack could see that many of its teeth were missing, and the upper jaw was too large to fit properly over the lower portion.
"What happened?" He took a cautionary step forward, and the vulpix's front legs collapsed when it tried to take a step backward, mashing its deformed face into the dirt. A rumble escaped its mouth as the monster pushed itself back up. Blood matted its fur thickly, and it was clearly struggling to hold its ground.
"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not. But you're pretty fucked. I am too, see?" He pointed to his injured shoulder. "Just let me take a look..."
He opened his hands and tried his best to look non-threatening as he took another slow step forward. The vulpix didn't move.
"Just let me take care of you, I prom-" He was cut off when the vulpix suddenly opened its mouth, and Jack knew what was coming. He was in perfect range for a flamethrower attack now that he had moved closer. He was mid-step, and so his momentum was still carrying him forward. In his current condition, he knew that there was no way he was going to be able to move out of the way in time.
But the flames never came. Jack finished his step and paused, confused. The mutilated vulpix mirrored his confusion. It tried the flamethrower attack again, this time Jack was able to dive to the ground on his right, crashing onto his good shoulder as pain shot through him.
But still the flames didn't come. Jack could see the vulpix from where he landed on the ground. This time its look was not of confusion, but horror that painted the creature's face. It forgot momentarily about Jack. It tried desperately to use its flamethrower, not at Jack but anywhere. Again the twisted mouth opened, and again nothing happened. The pokémon moaned a horrible, desperate sound, then a violent shiver shot through it as it collapsed in the dirt.
Jack approached the body of the creature, knowing that it was dead. As it collapsed he saw the light fade from its eyes, watched the will to struggle on reach that impassable wall. Those eyes...
He buried the deformed pokémon, taking precious minutes of his life to shovel the soft dirt with one hand. He placed it in the ground, and covered the hole back up with dirt. There were few pokémon left in the wild these days, the likelihood of something discovering the body and digging it up for a meal were low. Not that any predator would likely touch that maimed corpse if they found it.
Jack knew he would never forget those eyes. Never had he seen something so devoid of hope, so longing for the end. Those eyes showed a creature stripped of everything it held dear, everything that defined the mind behind them.
He was less than an hour's walk from his home town. His wound oozed persistently, and he knew that no bandage would save him from the infection that was burning through his blood.
To home or to whatever lay beyond, it wouldn't be long now.
The change of command at Team Rocket was heavily publicized. The biggest story circulating through media outlets at the time was that of the failing health of their leader: Antony Rocket.
When word began to spread that the leader had fallen ill, it was widely speculated that his son would be named heir to the massive empire and become to most powerful man on the planet.
Only months after young Gio inherited the throne he initiated a wave of policy changes. Team Rocket expanded even further, seizing financial control of smaller research and development companies and re-purposing them to suit their own needs. With the massive wealth they already possessed, they bought out accounting firms and rolled the profits produced through these and other business ventures into more and more company acquisitions.
They purchased and controlled media empires, informing the public of only what Team Rocket wanted them to hear. They bankrolled influential politicians, pressing for policies that allowed corporations to become more financially involved in the decisions made by local law enforcement and giving them the legal right to acquire private military contracting agencies. Soon, Team Rocket was able to pay its employees much higher salaries and provide greater benefits than any law enforcement or national Armed Forces. If you wanted a job in just about any field, from science and medicine to weapons development and accounting, your only option was to work for Team Rocket in some way or other.
In short, they owned everything.
Gio smiled. He owned everything.
But there were some groups of people who didn't take a liking to the monopoly that Team Rocket held on the world. There were people who were outraged when videos surfaced showing brutal experiments performed on pokémon and people alike. But, unfortunately for the nay sayers, thanks to the political power wielded by Team Rocket these experiments were eventually ruled to be "ethically responsible in their possible contributions to the advancement of medicine".
There were people who didn't agree with a single corporation controlling policy that affected the everyday lives of ordinary citizens.
Gio smiled again. There were.
He surveyed his spacious office from the back of the room, where a massive desk sat facing away from a large window.
He owned all of it. Including, but not limited to, everything in this massive office where his father once resided. Bookshelves lined the walls on both side, floor to ceiling. His father was a learned man. Everything from pokémon physiology (of all known species, of course), right down to the essential sciences of math and physics. That was how his father originally built this great company.
Antony Rocket had invented the pokéball itself, a device that truly revolutionized the world, changing its course forever. Selling the patent to Silph Co. and the Devon Corporation among others had netted Team Rocket a massive amount of startup money. On top of that, Antony created a machine that could cure pokémon of almost any illness, with the capability even to bring them back from the brink of death! Of course, it would be unethical to charge for such a miracle. They were, however, still able to net a profit by selling items in these pokémon centers that every trainer was bound to need on their adventures.
Antony Rocket was truly a great man, and the world would weep at his passing.
Gio stretched out luxuriously in his father's old chair. It was much too large for him, his legs dangled down awkwardly, though he himself stood taller than most. The armrests felt just a tad too low for his comfort, and the chair was too soft. This would be the first thing he replaced.He had only recently decided to take his father's old office for his own. The entire place would need to be redone if he was going to be able to get anything done here. The musty old books that lined the walls were burning his nostrils, and this hardwood desk...He stood up from his chair and abruptly pounded the desk as hard as he could with both his fists. Nothing cracked, the thing barely shook. He decided the desk would stay. He liked a solid desk.
Knock-Knock-Knock.
"Come in, please."
The door opened hesitantly, and a head poked in.
"Sir, the Doctor has arrived."
"Lovely. Send him in."
The head disappeared, and the double doors opened wide.
The Doctor himself was not a physically intimidating man. It was really only necessary to use a couple grunts when transporting him here or there. He wouldn't be so brash as to try fighting off his captors. No, not this one. The danger here was much more cunning. And so, thought Gio, would have to be the response.
"Thank you, gentlemen. Take the day to yourselves", said Gio, gesturing the grunts away.
He sat back into his chair as the heavy doors closed.
The Doctor stood with his hands at his side, his eyes unfocused behind his glasses. His body language was neutral, neither afraid not angry. He looked as he always did: emotionless, pensive. Lost somewhere, but unconcerned.
"You still don't drink, do you?" Gio pulled a bottle out and poured himself a drink. There was no response. "That's alright. I've been considering our last conversation, you know. I've got a lot on me right now." He gestured around the office with his cup. "You know what I mean. I'm pressured into making decisions, and making them quickly."
"Not lightly," he took a sip, "but quickly. I need to look decisive, conclusive. Public image, right?" He swirled his cup. "Lucky for me, I answer to very few people, so I get to change my mind. I don't do it often, you know."
The Doctor remained motionless as he broke his silence. "Your search bore no fruits."
"We're not here to talk about that." His grip tightened on his cup. "Well we are..." He put the cup down gingerly and folded his hands "...and we aren't. Like I said, I've changed my mind."
Gio could tell he had the Doctor's attention.
"What makes this place run is innovation. We were founded on innovation, getting ahead of the curve. You were a big part of that. And now..." he pointed to the cuffs on the Doctors' wrists. "Now I find that I have put myself at odds with one of our greatest innovators, one of our greatest minds."
"And I realize I've made a mistake." He pressed a button beneath his desk, and the handcuffs released with an audible click.
"You were trying to take us to new places, just as you had in the past. My father did not fear change, nor did he shy from progress. Neither will I." He stood up from his chair and walked around the large desk, putting himself face to face with the Doctor.
"I'm setting up a new lab for you, similar to the last one. A nicer spot, with some nicer toys. I'll need your input, of course."
Their eyes met, and Gio smiled.
"And then there is the matter of this thing that you've created. It destroyed your last facility. That place was costly. That will be garnished from your salary, I'm sure you understand. I'm giving you a second chance, not a free pass."
The Doctor nodded.
"So I see now that it doesn't make much sense to waste even more resources searching for your pet", the Doctor winced at this, "certainly not while we have more pressing issues. Anyways, your new facility is in the works, but we can't spare any resources while Jack is running around out there plotting and scheming." He scratched his chin. "Or just limping around, probably. We have to prioritize, you know."
"Perhaps," continued Gio, "If, together, we can deal with the problem at hand, we can come to an arrangement that allows you the creative freedom you deserve. Do you understand, Doctor?"
There was no hesitation. "These are more than acceptable terms," said the Doctor.
They shook on it, and they parted ways. The massive doors shut behind Doctor Brue, and Gio poured himself a stronger drink.
Down the hallway, Doctor Brue went into the washroom and scrubbed his hands raw.