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12 years ago...
Remear was certain there was a young boy below the dirt. There must be somewhere. He looked at the boy, covered from head to toe in mud and grime. The boy's long hair of indeterminate color was matted and his clothes were in tatters. He emanated the most interesting of smells and the only part of him that was any color besides dirty brown was his bright green eyes, which were currently scowling at him.
"What is this?" Remear asked the police officer who stood in the doorway to his Inn.
"He's yours. That's what he is," said the officer, who rubbed his bandaged hand with a fierce glare at the boy. Apparently, the boy's teeth were in very good condition. "You are the one who asked to be a foster parent."
"Yes, to children," protested Remear lightly. "Not to dirt clods."
"Deal with it," the officer replied sharply. "I'm not going to take care of him a minute longer." The officer turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway. "Oh, and you're getting another one tonight."
"Two?" asked Remear, incredulous.
The officer nodded. "Yeah. Times are tough. The other one's about the same age as this one. Have fun." The officer quickly left. Remear turned and looked at his new charge.
"Well," he said after a moment. "You certainly stink." The boy looked away and said nothing. "Is there a name under all that dirt, or should I just say, 'Hey, you!' every time I want to get your attention?" Remear asked. The boy continued to remain silent. Remear sighed and scratched his head. "Oh, great. I can just imagine the intelligent conversations we're going to have."
Deciding the boy was going to remain uncooperative, Remear reached down and picked him up. The kid squirmed and tried to twist out of his grip. "I don't think so," Remear growled. "If you're going to live in my Inn, you're going to bathe." The innkeeper carried the boy up the stairs and dropped him in front of the bathroom door. "Now go in and clean up," he said, shoving a small cloth sack into the boy's hands. "In here's your towel and a change of clothes. They might be a little big, but they're certainly better than what you're wearing now. When you're presentable, come downstairs and I'll get you something to eat." Remear turned and walked away, not even waiting to see if the boy would comply. About halfway down the stairs, he heard the bathroom door open and shut and the water start running. With a smile, Remear went to the kitchen to get lunch started.
"Yes?" he asked. The boy took a deep breath and almost opened his mouth to speak. Then, he snapped it shut again. After scowling and studying a corner for a few seconds, he made eye contact with Remear.
"I need help," he said evenly.
"Oh, ho! So he does speak!" beamed Remear. The boy glared at him, but he just chuckled. "So, what is your problem?"
The boy sighed a very deep sigh. "My hair. I can't get the knots out." He unwrapped the towel from his head. Remear looked at it critically. It certainly was matted, but it did have a nice color. Sort of a deep, royal blue. It went down almost to his knees. But with these kind of knots...
"I'm going to have to cut it," he declared. He thought he almost saw the boy wince. Walking over to a kitchen drawer, he pulled out a pair of scissors. "Sit," he ordered the boy, gesturing to a chair. The boy complied without complaint. When he heard the scissors open, the boy closed his eyes and tired not to cringe as the snipping began. Almost ten minutes later, it stopped. "There," said Remear, reaching into another drawer and pulling out a mirror. "I was able to leave it sort of long. You can always grow it out again."
The boy looked in the mirror. Overall, he decided, it wasn't a bad look for him. It still reached almost to his shoulders, except for one piece in the front that was shorter than the rest. It hung in front of his eyes, giving him a well-groomed, yet carefree look. The boy smiled.
"I think I might leave it like this," he said, looking up at Remear.
"That's fine," the older man said. "Now sweep up this floor so we can eat in a civilized way." The boy nodded and hopped out of the chair, reaching for a broom that was sitting in the corner. Remear started to turn back to the meal, but was halted by the boy's voice.
"Sir?" he said quietly. Remear turned at looked at him and the boy smiled again. "Sir, you can call me James." Remear smiled back at the boy.
"And you may call me Remear."
But that wasn't all. Since he'd started talking, he hadn't stopped and his conversation was intriguing. James spoke in a clear, accentless voice that had obviously been trained. His words were well formed and articulate, his sentences self-assured and complicated. An amazing intelligence sparkled behind those brilliant green eyes. It was readily apparent that he had had some fancy schooling. Yet, Remear knew better than to ask James about his past just yet, no matter how curious he was. The time just flew by and Remear was startled by the ringing of his doorbell. He stood up quickly to answer it, James on his heels.
When he opened the door, he was surprised to see a large, dumpy-looking, middle-aged woman standing there. She had a large clipboard in her hands and too much make-up on her face. She looked down at the papers she was holding and ran her tongue along her teeth.
"Torrance Remear?" she asked, her voice nasal and slimy.
"Yes?"
"My name is Judy Gunt," she said, reaching out and shaking his hand. The over powering smell of her perfume wafted into the room and Remear was finding it hard not to gag. Instead, he forced a smile. "I'm a social worker. This," she said as she reached around behind herself and pulled out a young girl who had been cowering in the shadows, "is Jessica Dunstin. She is going to be staying with you." The social worker pushed the girl into the room. She didn't look too happy. She stood near the door, toying with a strand of her vibrant red hair, the rest of which was braided quite badly. She was wearing some mismatched clothes, no doubt donations by the state. She looked like she wanted to run away.
"Nice to meet -"
"Now we need to go over this paperwork," said the social worker, interrupting Remear's greeting. She pushed past him and stalked into the kitchen, expecting him to follow. Remear shrugged and turned to the girl.
"Nice to meet you," he said again, patting her on the head. "James," he said, turning to the boy, "introduce your self and play nice." Remear reached behind Jessica and closed the door. After a taking a few deep breaths, he walked into the kitchen after the social worker, leaving the two children alone.
James and Jessica stared at each other, neither saying a word. Jessica kept looking at the floor, twirling that stray piece of hair in her hands. Finally, James decided to take the first step.
"Hi," he began simply. "My name is James. I'm eight years old." He reached out to shake her hand. Looking at him carefully, Jessica put her hand in his.
"My name is Jessica. Call me Jessie. I'm eight years old, too." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "But my last name isn't Dunstin. I don't have a last name," she said quietly, expecting him to argue with her. James only nodded.
"That's okay. I don't have one either. Want me to show you around the Inn?" he asked.
"Inn? I thought it was a hotel," Jessie said.
"Remear doesn't like it when people call The Solace Inn a hotel. He says it isn't classy enough," James replied.
"He seems a little strange," Jessie said uneasily. James only shrugged.
"He's pretty cool, once you get to know him. Come on!" James said with a smile, dropping Jessie's hand. "I'll race you to the fifth floor!" James took off at a run with Jessie close behind; their laughter ringing through the Inn as they bounded up the staircase.
"Jessie and James, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage!"
Jessie rolled her eyes "God I hate this school," she whispered, grabbing James' hand and dragging him across the grassy lawn in front of the school, away from a throng of giggling adolescent girls and boys. They pushed their way through the crowded hallways and finally made it to their homeroom. Jessie flopped down in her chair and James took his seat next to her.
"It could be worse," he said slowly, not wanting Jessie to fly off the handle so early in the morning. Of course, James wasn't happy about this school either, but he preferred not to add fuel to the fire Jessie was already burning.
"I mean, it's bad enough we have to wear these stupid uniforms," she said as she carefully fingered the collar of her sailor outfit, "but also that we're being forced to sit through classes we've already learned!" James nodded in agreement. He and Jessie were far ahead of the rest of their class. They had just started algebra, yet he and Jessie had recently completed the differential equations correspondence course from the Vermilion City University. Remear had told them he felt their talents were being wasted so he'd started them on college courses almost four years ago. Now they were in the sixth grade and James almost had a bachelor's degree in zoology, while Jessie was nearly a graduate of the physics department.
"Stand!"
James immediately complied with the homeroom president's orders.
"Bow!"
"Sit!"
James tried very hard not to slouch in his chair as the teacher took to the front of the room. He flipped through some papers on his desk, standing up there for a very long time, not saying anything. James suppressed a groan. This school really sucked.
"Okay class," began the teacher, speaking very, very slowly. "Today, we are going to learn about variables. For example," he turned to the board and picked up a piece of chalk and began writing almost as slow as he talked, "In the equation '2 + X = 3,' the term 'X' is our variable. Now, can anyone tell me what 'X' is in this equation?"
James closed his eyes and a small whimper escaped his lips. It was going to be a long day.
"... disruptive behavior. It is not conducive to a learning environment. Calling your teachers names and disrupting the class will get you no where, missy. Do you want to grow up as a vagabond? You had better pull your act together, or I'll have to have a talk with you legal guardian."
"Whatever you say, you old windbag," Jessie whispered under breath.
"What did you say?" the teacher asked angrily.
Jessie spun around and faced the teacher. "I said 'Whatever you say, Miss Fryden,'" she replied. The teacher stalked back into the building and Jessie walked over to meet up with James.
"Sorry that took so long," she apologized. James just shook his head.
"Remear's going to be angry when he finds out you had detention again," he warned.
"I know," she replied, wistfully. Jessie might hate school, but she cared a lot about Remear. He was the father she never had and she hated to see him disappointed. "I'll just tell him the truth." Together they biked slowly through the streets.
"Hey pretty thing! Why don't you come to my institution of higher learning?"
Jessie and James both stopped and saw a group of high school boys approaching them on their bikes. They looked very mean and slimy. They immediately made Jessie feel uncomfortable and she really wanted to be home. She forced herself to swallow her fear and sat up straight on her bike seat, looking them in the eyes.
"Buzz off, you freaks!" she said to them angrily. "We don't have time to waste on trash like you."
"Ohhh... Gren, she's mad at you now!" one of the boys laughed. The others joined in and circled them with their bikes. The one named Gren smirked and reached out, nearly grabbing Jessie by the waist, but she managed to move out of his way.
"Leave her alone!" yelled James, hopping off his bike and throwing it on the ground.
"Oh, the little man speaks," said Gren with a twisted smile. "Is this your 'boyfriend,' pretty thing? If so, you can do so much better." That was it for James. He lunged at the leader, his hand balled up in a fist. Because Gren was still on his bike, he couldn't move out of the way in time. There was a resounding thud on the concrete as Gren hit the ground from the force of James' punch. He sat up, rubbing his cheek, surprised and James looked no less surprised himself. He stared at his fist as though it was a separate entity, disbelieving what he had just done. He was usually such a pacifist.
"If that's how you want to play this out," growled Gren, standing up. "Styles! Grab the girl! She'll be the prize for whoever wins this match!" Another one of Gren's lackeys rushed up behind Jessie and grabbed her arms, holding her back.
"You've got to be kidding!" she yelled, struggling in his grip. "I'm nobody's prize!"
"Yeah! Let her go!" James hissed, but Gren had already lunged at him and James found himself forced to duck out of the way. The fight was rather impressive, given the circumstances. After about five minutes, it was practically over. James stood over Gren, one of his eyes swollen shut, blood dripping from a cut on his lip. Gren was on the ground, looking in slightly worse shape. Seeing that their leader was going to lose, one of the boys pulled the handle bar off his bike and started to charge at James from behind.
"I don't think so," Jessie spat, twisting free of Styles' grip and elbowing him the ribs. She got in front of the lackey and kicked him in the stomach, watching with amusement as he flipped over her leg and fell headfirst onto the pavement. She ran next to James as the other guys started to circle them, makeshift weapons in their hands.
"Stop."
The guys all looked over at their leader who was sitting up, his hand up straight in an order of command. They all stopped, confused. Gingerly, he stood up.
"You kids are alright," he said with a smile, swaying a little from the dizziness caused by his injuries. "What are your names?"
"I'm Jessie and this is James," said the redhead warily.
"Alright, Big Jess and Little Jim. How about you two joining our bicycle gang?" The guys cheered. It was always nice getting new members. Jessie and James exchanged glances. Jessie just shrugged.
"Sure," she said with a smile. "Why not?"
"Number twenty-one."
James yawned and looked blearily over at the clock. One-thirty. He rubbed his eyes and slapped his cheek. "Number twenty-one," he repeated. "Spearow. Normal type, flying. Evolves into Fearow at level twenty, learns lear at level nine, fury attack at level fifteen, mirror move at level twenty-two, drill peck at level twenty-nine, and agility at level thirty-six. Found world-wide and not extremely rare or powerful." James yawned again. "Give me another one." Jessie just shook her head.
"You've done them all," she said, rubbing her eyes. "And so have I. We have them all memorized." James stood up and stretched.
"I guess we'll definitely ace the entrance exam into Pokémon Tech." Jessie nodded. It was really late. They were crashing in Jessie's room on the third floor of The Solace Inn. Suddenly, a knock came at the window. Jessie walked over and opened it up. Perching on the fire escape was a young man, maybe only a year or so older than them.
"Styles?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"
"Hey Jess," he said, crawling through the window. He saw James there, looking slightly disheveled. A lecherous grin came over his face. "I'm not disturbing anything, am I?" Jessie rolled her eyes and hit him on the head.
"Don't be stupid. We were studying. Now what do you want?" she asked again.
"Studying. Right. Anyway, I've come to invite you to the biggest, baddest party in the world," he replied, reaching over and grabbing some food out of the bowl on the floor in the room.
"What party?" asked James.
"Gren's in town," he said simply. Jessie and James both smiled. Gren was four years older than them and had graduated two years ago. He moved away to college, but every time he was back in town, the parties he threw were better than good and exclusively for older members of the bicycle gang. Since he was now a legal twenty-year-old, the parties had gotten sufficiently more interesting.
"How long is he going to be here?" Jessie asked.
"Only 'till he recovers from his hangover from tonight's party. You guys coming?" Jessie and James exchanged a glance.
"We have our entrance exam tomorrow for Pokémon Tech..." James said slowly.
"So, you two wanna be pokémon trainers or something?" asked Styles. "You don't even own any pokémon!"
"Yeah, but it's better than the school we're at now," Jessie argued. "If I get detention one more time, they're going to suspend me!"
"Oh, come on. Who knows when Gren'll be back in town? You don't even have to drink. Just come party! Getting a few hours of sleep is worse than just pushing straight through!"
James sighed and shrugged. He and Jessie looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. Finally, James nodded his head.
"Let's go."
"You have 2 hours to complete the test," the teacher bellowed. James bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out as his head threatened to spilt apart. He tasted blood. "Begin!"
Wincing, he picked up his pencil and looked at the white, blaring test paper in front of him. The letters were not discernible from each other. Just staring at the page made his head hurt worse. He couldn't see and he couldn't think. He continued to just stared at the paper, knowing that he should be doing something with the test, but not sure what that something was. His mind barely focused on anything but the pain in his head.
And the fact that he had to pee.
And the fact that he felt like he was going to be violently ill in any given moment in the near future.
Scribbling some answers on the paper, he fled the testing room and headed straight for the bathroom.
"Hi," she said weakly.
"Hi," James weakly replied. He sat down next to her and took her in his arms and together, they slept the rest of the day away.
"How the test go, my young alcoholics?" he asked the pair, reaching into a nearby drawer. He pulled out a bottle of aspirin and filled two cups with water. Jessie and James sat gingerly down in the kitchen chairs, looking more or less like hell.
"Test," James said evenly. "Did we take a test, Jessie?"
"I vaguely remember something about a test," she replied, a light smirk on her face. "I do not, however, remember any of the questions." Remear gave them the medication, which they quickly downed.
"Oh, so it went that well, huh?" he asked sarcastically.
Here it comes, James thought, looking at Jess. She nodded her head.
"I thought you two were more responsible than this," Remear lectured. "I'm not too fond of you two drinking at such young age anyway, but if you're going to do it, couldn't you have timed it a little better?" A ding came from outside the kitchen, signaling to Remear that he had a customer at the front desk. "Saved by the bell," he muttered. "Now, you two don't go anywhere. I'm not through with you yet!" he said and disappeared out the door. James sighed and leaned back in his chair.
"He doesn't seem too upset," he said quietly.
"No, he doesn't," agreed Jessie. "I think he thinks if we had really wanted to go, we wouldn't have gone to that party no matter what." James nodded.
"I think you're right. Still, I wish we had..."
James sentence was cut off by Remear walking into the room. He had a troubled expression on his face. He regarded Jessie and James carefully, as if wondering if he should say something to them or not. Suddenly, his shoulders slumped and he walked over to the stove, turning his back on them. Jessie looked at James, who only shrugged in return.
"Jessie, James," Remear said finally, sounding very old. He didn't turn around. "There are some men in The Golden Growlithe Suite who want to talk to you."
"What about?" asked Jessie, suddenly feeling very nervous.
"Just go." Remear turned again and walked out the back of the kitchen door, not meeting either of their eyes. Jessie swallowed hard and took James' hand and together they walked down to the room.
"Come in," he called, not rolling over to see who entered. He felt the bed shake as something sat down on it. The breathing instantly told him it was Remear.
"Well," began the older man softly, "what are you going to do?"
"What choice do I have?" he replied bitterly.
"You always have a choice, James," Remear said firmly. "You may not like the other options, but you still have a choice."
"Why didn't you tell me you were a member of Team Rocket?" he said angrily, sitting up and looking at his foster parent. Remear sighed.
"I was told not to tell you," he said simply, as if that explained everything. "I can't disobey my boss."
"But you can disobey my trust?"
Remear cringed from his words, almost as if they had been a blow. "I did what I had to do."
James stood up and started pacing the room in frustration. "So, my options are to either join Team Rocket, or be sent back to my parents, is that right?"
"Yes. And if you join Team Rocket..."
"I get to learn who my brother is," James finished for him. Remear nodded. James shook his head. "I only have one choice, Remear. Either way, I end up joining a family I don't like." He sighed in defeat and sat down in a chair by his desk. "But at least I'll gain a brother."
Remear walked over to him and put his hand on his shoulder. "The Organization isn't so bad," Remear said easily. "I've made a lot of good friends there. In fact, most of our common customers are members of Team Rocket." James looked surprised at this.
"You mean Milly, Tachi, and the others..." Remear nodded. James eyes went wide with shock. "I don't believe it," he whispered. "They babysat me and Jess when we were younger. Javon..." He looked at Remear for confirmation. The older man nodded again. James shook his head. "Javon used to help me with my calculus and taught me and Jessie how to play basketball. All of them are criminals?"
"Not criminals, James," Remear replied. "Think of them as more like active fighters for a new future against a government they don't agree with."
"Revolutionaries?" James asked, looking at Remear in disbelief.
"Something like that," Remear agreed. He started to walk out the door. "Remember, you do still have a choice."
"If I turn them down, they're going to kill me aren't they," James said slowly. Remear stopped in his tracks. "I know too much about them now, don't I?"
The older man remained still a moment.
"Yes," he said finally and walked out the door, closing it behind him, leaving James in darkness.
"A fine morning to be joining a criminal syndicate, don't you think?" Jess asked, leaning back on her hands. James found himself smiling, even though he didn't want to.
"Yes, it is," he agreed. "You don't have to come with me, you know," he reminded her, his voice low.
"Of course I do," she replied with a smirk. "You know I can't get out of bed in the morning unless you wake me up and you can't find your way around a tree without getting lost without my help. We need each other, James! We're partners! Besides," she said softly, her voice growing more serious, "I don't know what I'd do without you." James smiled at his friend and gave her a hand, helping her to her feet as he saw a large, black limousine turn the corner and slowly head down the street.
"Thank you," James said quietly, giving her a quick hug. Together, they crawled into the limousine. As the car began to drive off, James looked out the window and gave Remear, who was standing outside the inn, a friendly wave, which the innkeeper returned. James didn't know why, but he wasn't upset. In fact, he was looking forward to starting his new life.
Giovanni looked up from his desk to the man who was standing in his office.
"Yes, Gengiess?"
The large man bowed to his boss. "The two children we have been watching are on their way to the training camp, right on schedule."
"Excellent," replied Giovanni, a dark smile on his face. "I have had an interest in those two since our doctors picked them up ten years ago. I hope the wait has been worth the while."
"I went ahead and took the liberty of having them tested again, sir. Their levels are even higher than they were before - higher than anything I've ever seen! And to think they've had no formal training..."
Giovanni nodded, looking back down at the papers on his desk. "Yes. They will be quite powerful, Gengiess. Continue to keep an eye on them for me."
"Yes, sir. Oh, and there is one more thing..."
"Yes?" asked the boss, looking up again.
"There are reports of a meowth in Hollywood who has taught himself to walk upright."
"Now that is interesting," the boss said with a smirk. "Is he Test Subject X34-FE9?"
"Yes, sir!" exclaimed Gengiess. "I'm surprised you remembered!"
"I never forget a success," the boss said quickly. "Keeping him in the lab wasn't a good idea. He wasn't showing any real growth at all. I guess 'abandoning' him in the real world for a while toughened him up. Keep an eye on him as well, Gengiess. If the time should arise when he might be ready to return to us, I want to be notified of it immediately."
Gengiess bowed once and left the office, feeling cold.
Jessie gave Remear a big hug that nearly broke a rib. "Bye, dad." She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Shouldering her bag, she walked quickly out the door where the rest of The Team had already gathered. James started to shake Remear's hand, but decided to give him a hug instead.
"Thanks Remear," he said with a smile.
"For what? Letting you stay here? Don't thank me. I charged your boss quite a penny," the older man laughed.
"That's not what I meant," he said with a light shake of his head.
"I know, kid," Remear replied, putting his hand on James' shoulder. "Stay safe, okay? I want you and Jess to visit me more often."
"We'll try, Pop. We'll try." James took one last wistful glance around the Inn and headed out the door. Meowth walked past the desk a second later.
"Hey, cat," called Remear. Meowth stopped and looked at him. "Take care of them."
"I will, Remear," Meowth replied. "I promise they'll be as safe as any of us." The pokémon walked out the door to the Inn, closing it behind him. With a sigh, Remear looked around the Inn, then locked the door and turned off the light.