Pokemon Johto: Gold and Silver

Teaser

In the hinterlands of Johto lies Azalea Town. Despite its humble appearance, Azalea Town has three things that have put it on the map: the Azalea gym, with its Leader Bugsy, a legendary well known for its unusual source: the breath of several Slowpokes. The other is a PokeBall expert by the name of Kurt.

Kurt isn't your typical scientist. Instead of a white coat, like most people in his profession would wear, he prefers a more traditional kimono. Despite this, his knowledge PokeBalls is unmatched by any other man alive. He knows everything from assembly and manufacture, to research and development, and has inside information on every major project in the industry, both public and private. To him there wasn't in Pokeballs he didn't know. For him, anything involving Pokeballs came into two categories. "Knowing" and "Not Knowing Yet". For him, the latter kind was always the most challenging, and the most fun. But for the first time in his life, "not knowing" had become very, very grating, since he was working on a timetable.

It was currently after midnight, and he was still on the "not knowing stage" in regards to one specific ball. "No- BUZZ-no-BUZZ-no-BUZZ-no-BUZZ-no…" he quietly repeated. He was currently hunched over his computer monitor, typing away and entering data. On the white monitor was a screen that was divided in two. On the left half was an image of the GS Ball. Unlike most PokeBalls, this one had a gold-silver coloring, unlike the conventional red-white coloring. But that's not what set the ball apart from all others. It was not able to be teleported via PC. It could not be opened by pressing the button. And to top it off, it was virtually indestructible, made from an unidentifiable material that not even lasers could cut through. On the right half of the screen was an ever changing image of different Pokeball diagrams. As the major authority in PokeBall research, he had access to countless blueprints of PokeBalls, both manufactured, or as what happens with most inventions, sent back to the drawing board. He attempted to compare each blueprint he obtained with the GS Ball, hoping to find some connection or match with any other existing design. On the screen, a new ball would be scanned, and compared to GS Ball. If the ball design matched, the screen would turn green, and it would let out a ding. If the ball in question didn't match. The screen would turn red and he would get a very loud buzz. Then the right side of the screen would change to a different ball, like on a slot machine and he would attempt to obtain scan another old design. But for weeks, he had been getting nothing but BUZZ. And it wasn't taking a toll on his sanity.

"BUZZ- no-BUZZ-no-BUZZ-no-BUZZ-", he let out a sigh and got up from his chair. Though frustrated with working so long and so late, he knew throwing a computer through a window was not a good way to deal with a dead end, not to mention a waste of good silicon chips. Yes, he had his cantankerous moments, but he wasn't homicidal, that would land him in a nursing home.

He walked over past his study and living room to his small but neat kitchen. Or quaint, as an interior designer would say. It had a dark green paint job, a small shelf above that had some books, a couple of wooden chairs, a plain table, and most important part, an old fashioned gas stove. It's silver and blue coloring, grey stove top, and those white dials reminded him of the good old days, growing up the son of a farmer. This kitchen provided him relief from the hustle and bustle of life, and allowed him to relive those simple times. He was never the man who lived in the past. He accomplished too much in the present to trade it all away, but here he could briefly return there. Too focused on his desire for a cup of tea, he ignored his surroundings, walked over, turned the dial to get the gas flowing, lit the stove with a match, and put a kettle of tea. Everything would be all cal-

"BUZZ"

"AHH," Kurt screamed as he jumped and turned around. He saw a young girl in a pink shirt and pants, with red heard tied up in braid that resembled a knot, who currently had her finger pressed over. Her face looked very confused as she stared blankly. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Maisy," Kurt said sternly, "It's after midnight, why are you still up?"

"Sorry Grandpa," she said sweetly, "I was hungry and wanted some toast".

"All right," he said, exhausted, "you can have toast, than off to bed in five minutes".

"Yay," the girl said with joy, and grabbed some of the hot bread.

"What have you been working on," she asked, her eyes full of interest and wonder.

Kurt smiled. Sometimes his granddaughter could be very demanding and impatient. But she was also very curious, always searching the world for truth. Those were the right qualities to have in a Pokemon researcher, and Kurt liked to hope he could turn his granddaughter into one.

"That GS Ball that Professor Oak sent me," he replied, still very exhausted but charmed by her daughter's interest.

"Oh you mean that ball that Ash, Misty, and Brock gave us nearly a month ago," she said with happy remembrance. She paused, a little curious. "You mean the one you don't know anything about- ,"

"Hey", he said slightly offended, "Remember what I said. There are two things in the world. Things we know, and things we-"

"-don't know yet," Maisy said completing the sentence almost automatically. "Of course grandpa, but I just want to know what's inside it so badly."

"Well, with any hope, I can have it before the coming three weeks. That's when they are having the PokeBall Convention in Ecruteak City," he said, "But it appears I may have to change my theory".

"What was your theory grandpa," Maisy asked.

"Well, my originally theory was an abandoned secret project," he said leaning back against stove. "You see, this Pokeball is beyond anything I have encountered. It has strength beyond any known material. Now anything that is strong and durable is worth developing, but what does it also need to be?"

"Cost effective," uttered Maisy.

"Very good, so you have kept your nose in the book", said Kurt smiling. Maisy sighed a little, "My assumption is that whoever built it invested all their money and time into this one ball, only to destroy the project and bury his work when he realized his invention was too expensive. Someone with enormous resources must have left his blueprints lying around in some of the major labs." He looked down. "But I've looked and examined thousands of blueprints, and I haven't found a match. I even looked to see if "GS" stood for something, but I have found no one in this industry with those initials.

"So what now", asked Maisy.

"Now," said Kurt, "I need a new theory. Just need to think. It's forming right in my brain. It's getting warmer, warmer, warmer..."

"Grandpa," Maisy screamed, "your dress is on fire."

"It's not a dress," he replied irritably, It's"… he paused, realizing indeed something was burning. He looked to see his kimono was in fact burning, due to having put it against the burning gas stove, which meant he was burning, and was thus on fire.

"Ahh," he started screaming running around, rolling all over the floor trying to put out his burning kimono, Maisy screaming all the while. He eventually came to a stop, and rolled into the wall, knocking a book off the shelf, and onto his face.

Maisy, frightened by the situation at first, starting laughing at the silly turn of events.

"Grandpa, you always tell me to keep my nose in the book, but know you have a book on your face," she continued to laugh. Kurt sat there, annoyed at getting mocked by his eight-year old granddaughter. He wondered if he should through her out the door, but then he realized, it would hurt his back. He slowly got up, face still pressed to the book.

"Alright, go to bed," said Kurt gruffly as he pulled the opened book off his face, "I've had enough dealing you for one..." He looked at the book pages for a second, uninterested, but then out of some innate curiosity, opened them again. Macy remembered that book. Its brick red cover and gold letters. Her parents used to read it to her when she was young before they "went away" as her grandpa told her. She wondered why he was-

"How could I not realize before", Kurt said, "letting the book fall from his hands".

"Grandpa, what-," asked Maisy, stunned and her grandpa's new attitude.

"Maisy, I tell you about it the morning," said Grandpa , "I can't have any more distractions right now. If you go to bed, it means I can solve the GS Ball sooner".

"Okay Grandpa," said Maisy, "I won't get in your way. Goodnight." Maisy strolled out of the kitchen, and out the door. Her footsteps making noise along the way.

Kurt rushed back into his lab, remembering first to turn off the stove after his near accident, and ran over to the phone he had to dial, and called a number he had contacted in one night.

Saffron City was almost on another planet compared to Azalea Town. Not just because Saffron City was all the way in Kanto, but because it was major city thanks to the presence of Silph Co., one of biggest high-tech businesses in the world, and the top producer of Poke Balls. But even in the bustling Saffron, people needed their sleep, so the metropolis was pretty much dark, except for a few souls, as shown by the still bright apartments, who were still awake in order to witness an important battle, one that could decide the fate of the world.

"C'mon, Starmies," said the tenant, "you're almost at bat."

"The score is still 2-4, with the Cerulean City Starmies in the lead, with the Ecruteak Electubuzz team still in the field with two outs," said the sportscaster on TV in a high pitch tone and with rapid delivery, "The bases are currently loaded, and Corey Demario is at bat. One home run could put the Electabuzz in the lead. Paige Satchel of the Starmies is getting ready to throw a pitch"- One side of the crowd cheered, while the other jeered.

"Strike one-," said the pitcher.

"Yeah," screamed the occupant. She was woman in her late 20s, with long light purple hair. She was currently dressed in a tank top and some sweatpants, and befitting someone watching a game from home. She sat down on the ground, her eyes glued to the set.

"Strike Two-," said the pitcher. The tenant was now leaning on the TV, her eyes full of determination, as she watched the final play-

"RING!"

"Ahh", the woman screamed as she bumped her head against the TV screen, startled by the loud and sudden ring. Annoyed, she ran over to her phone, rubbing her head all the way, while the pitcher called a ball.

"Hello," said the woman into the mouthpiece. In another region, Kurt was excited to have her respond.

"Angela," said Kurt, "it's Kurt, this is very crucial to my discovery-,"

"Everything is crucial to your discovery," said Angela, slowly but firmly, "that's what you said to me when you asked me to call everyone in Silph and other companies to send you blueprints. That's what you said to me when I had the IT spend 18 hours scanning all those documents and send them to your computer. That's what you said when you made me beg Henderson to send you Top Secret blueprints-," she paused when she heard the crowd go wild at the stadium, and she saw the players in the field running to home plate. It was clear that Demario had knocked it out of the park, and she missed it talking to some old codger. She slammed her fist on the table in frustration.

"Ahh," she screamed into the phone, "I just missed one of the biggest plays of the season, having to talk to you, and hear you cackle on about your dumb ball."

"Hey, it's not dumb," said Kurt offended , "It's properties could-",

"Oh shut it," said Angela , "you've spent a month studying that thing, and all you've said was 'any discovery into its makeup could shake the modern world.' Meanwhile in the present, I have spent my credibility giving you everything you asked for. I do this because without your recommendation, I wouldn't have been able to become an executive before I was thirty. But now my career depends on you finding something in that ball of yours,"

"Yes well-," said Kurt, somewhat unsettled.

"And knowing my career is on the line," she said, her voice rising, "you could have had the courtesy to call me in the middle of the day, instead of late at night. Unlike you, who drinks more coffee than water, I like having down time. I like to relax and watch some baseball. But now my time isn't going to make the regionals now is it?"

"I don't see how that's my fault-," replied Kurt, even more uneasy than he was before.

"But instead of respect my wish not to be bothered after 7 pm with work," said Angela even angrier, "you have the nerve to call me late at night, instead of waiting until maybe the afternoon to bother me." She breathed in, her voice becoming more icily frustrated. "So here is the deal. Spout whatever nonsense you want. But unless it has something to do with what is in the ball-not the material the contents-I'm going recommend the board take you off the VIP list."

"Please," said Kurt both frightened and regretful, "I'm sorry I ignored your requests, but-"

"Do you know what is in the thing or not," Angela repeated, her voice cold.

"No but-,"

"Goodbye Kurt," she said, about to put her phone back on the receiver.

"Archeology," Kurt belted out.

"What," said Angela, stunned.

"I need you to put me up with archeology department," said Kurt, his confidence returning to his voice.

"But that department is for objects before the year 1500," stated Angela, confused but intrigued, "Why would you need-," she paused for a minute, taking in the implications of this event.