We said goodbye right at the fork. Andrew took the road toward Saffron. I went down through the underpass entrance. Dark, and cold, with the smell of old concrete and ancient secrets.
Before disappearing down the stairs with Growhlite in my arms and my gear ready, I took one last look at the city.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thanks to those who follow me on P@treon! See you again on Monday!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you want to support the story and read some advance chapters https://www.p@treon. com/Jayjayempi +4, it would also help me a lot if you have comments on how the story is going or if you would be so kind as to leave a review, Thank you very much for reading!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The entrance to the underground tunnel seemed harmless. A moss-covered concrete archway opened in the side of the road, bordered by a barely legible sign announcing its destination: "Underpass: Cerulean City – Vermilion City." It's a shortcut, in theory. It was an old route, forgotten by many, but still open to Trainers who preferred to avoid the open fields or simply wanted to get there faster. If I was lucky enough to win one of those, a part of me envied Andrew, who would get to know a new city and perhaps new Trainers.
I paused for a moment before crossing the shadow line, deciding that this time Nidorino would rest in his Pokeball. Kirlia walked silently beside me as I carried Growlithe in my arms. The air inside was colder. Damp. Heavy. Having Growlithe as a small source of heat was, above all, a relief from this situation.
And then something gently slipped into my mind.
"Bad feelings… go ahead."
I stopped dead in my tracks. I turned to Kirlia, surprised.
"Was it you…?"
She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, wordlessly, but the answer was clear. It was the first time I'd felt her that way. A direct, if slight, thought piercing the mental barrier that the pendulum in my necklace had managed to maintain for so long. It wasn't a conversation, just a touch of her power. But it was enough to make my skin crawl.
"So you're stronger than I thought…"
There was no response, only the damp echo of our footsteps as we began to descend. The tunnel closed behind us like the mouth of a sleeping beast.
At first, it was as expected: a narrow passageway, bare stone walls, and rusty lights that flickered like dying fireflies. But after a few hours of walking, the tunnel changed. It expanded.
The ceiling rose, the walls widened, and slowly, signs of life began to appear. Doors were set into the rock, dim lights filtering through cracks, the smell of food cooking on makeshift fires. I heard laughter, murmurs, the distant bark of a Pokémon.
And then, two kids intercepted me.
One wore a worn cap and a jacket too big for his size. Beside him, a Spearow with ruffled wings watched him from his shoulder. The other, shorter, with a nervous smile, held a Poké Ball that he quickly opened. From it emerged an Ekans that curled around his leg like a broken toy.
I felt a knot in my stomach. The mere sound of that hiss was enough to transport me to another scene... To another time. Pidgey... I shook it from my mind.
"To get through, you have to pay a toll," the Spearow driver said naturally as if repeating a learned script.
"Toll?" I asked, frowning. "This should be free access. It's a League-registered route."
"Upstairs, yes," said the other. "Downstairs… the rules change."
They looked at me with that mixture of impudence and innocence that only street children can master. They didn't seem aggressive, just part of the system. Pawns repeating a routine.
I didn't want any trouble. I paid them a small sum without saying anything else.
The Spearow man nodded with a broken smile.
"Good boy. But don't stay too long. Here… not everyone plays fair."
They let me through.
The underground "village" yawned like a secret wound beneath Kanto. Metal ceilings hung from makeshift structures. Neon lights flashed with absurd names: "Rattata Burgers," "Joy Cave," and "PokéCure Express." The air smelled of sweat, hot metal, and cooking meat.
I passed a stall frying what looked like chopped Tentacool. The gelatinous texture sizzled on a rusty griddle while the cook—a man in a bloody apron—turned the pieces with an iron spatula.
A group of people huddled around, bowls in hand and dull-eyed. A mother was feeding her son with a makeshift spoon made of bone. The boy couldn't have been more than five years old, yet he seemed to know hunger all too well.
Kirlia stood beside me, silently watching the scene. She said nothing. But the discomfort was in the air. Growlithe, in my arms, moaned softly, as if she, too, understood that this place wasn't... right.
"Want to try? It's fresh. We caught it in the seeps of the Saffron River."
I shook my head, but I couldn't stop staring. Beside me, a boy was enthusiastically munching on a skewer of what I swore were Zubat wings.
Disgust churned in my stomach... and at the same time, I felt curious. I have to admit that, as someone from another world, I've always been curious about what some Pokémon taste like. But this... this was something else.
I saw another stand hanging pickled Slowpoke pieces, and further along, someone was selling "Mankey" sausages—or so the chalk sign screamed.
I swallowed.
I knew Pokémon were eaten on the surface, too. It was part of the cycle. Magikarps, Tauros, Miltanks… but seeing them prepared with such disrespect made my stomach churn. Even so, my stomach growled. I wasn't from that world, but I couldn't pretend to ignore it.
I quickened my pace.
The faces were different here. Scarred. Dirty. Alert gazes, as if each one was assessing your worth, what you were carrying, whether you could defend it. Some were armed. Not with Poké Balls, but with knives, bats, and crowbars.
I saw a kid, maybe my age, selling what looked like a cloned Poké Ball. "Cheap, cheap. Works the same, almost the same. Want it?"
Kirlia approached me as if seeking protection. Her eyes scanned the room suspiciously as if every corner held something hidden.
We passed a makeshift infirmary. A rickety sign hung crookedly: "Joy (Retirement). Affordable Rates." Inside, a middle-aged woman with pink hair tied in a long braid was tending to a Pidgeotto's broken wing while humming a monotonous tune. Her eyes were dull, lacking the characteristic sparkle of a Joy nurse.
"Do you have any injuries?" he asked me when I approached without looking up.
"Not for now."
"Okay. If they get hurt, bring them in. I don't charge much. But if you can't pay, I'll let them sleep until you can."
I remained silent. I nodded and continued walking.
To one side of the infirmary, a tent covered with a red tarp displayed a variety of Poké Balls on a dusty shelf. Some were cracked, others had deep scratches. "Original, pre-owned, no League tracking," read a crooked sign.
I walked in, curious. The owner, a hunched man with bloodshot eyes, greeted me with a toothless laugh.
"If you're looking for something… special, I have it."
"What do you mean?" I asked, not wanting to sound too interested.
"Stolen Poké Balls. Off-market combat medicine. Rare items… of discreet origin."
At the back of the store, I saw what looked like an evolutionary stone… but it wasn't a common one. It was black, with purple veins. It vibrated with a dark energy that made me take a half-step back.
"I don't have money for that," I said quickly.
"Just looking is hard enough, boy."
I left before he could continue speaking.
Commerce here was a different creature. One that didn't question or justify.
I left the tent with my stomach churning. I could still feel the dark vibration of that unidentified stone behind me as if it had touched my skin without actually doing so. The air in the tunnel seemed thicker than before. Dirtier.
It was then that I heard it.
A loud bang, followed by a roar. Voices, shouts. Metallic noise. I turned toward one of the side passages, dimly lit by a row of orange bulbs. They spiraled slowly downwards into what seemed to be a deeper chamber.
Kirlia glanced at me. She didn't say anything, but her body tensed. Growlithe let out a restless groan.
I went down.
The staircase led me to a sort of circular arena, built from welded scrap metal and rusty barrels. The crowd milled around the makeshift ring, everyone shouting, some laughing, others betting crumpled bills. The air was thick with sweat, adrenaline, and brutality so thick it seemed to vibrate in the air.
In the center, two Pokémon were fighting mercilessly.
A bruised Mankey, his hind leg trembling, repeatedly launched himself at a cold-eyed Machop. Each charge from the Mankey was less accurate, more desperate. The Machop waited for him, struck him, and effortlessly threw him to the ground. The ring vibrated every time the Mankey's body touched it.
The crowd roared with every impact. They cheered the pain.
And then I saw it. Mankey's trainer, barely a teenager, was yelling in a broken voice from outside the ring. "Hold on, please! Enough!"
But there were no referees here. There were no judges. Just spectacle.
The Machop lifted the Mankey by one leg and slammed him into the ground with such force that the noise resonated like hollow thunder. The monkey lay motionless.
Silence.
A Rocket—one of those uniformed Grunts, with a red "R" on his chest and a cigar dangling from his lip—entered the ring. He approached the defeated trainer and wordlessly punched him in the face, knocking him backward.
The boy did not get up.
Another Rocket jumped from the apron and unceremoniously picked up Mankey's unconscious body, slung it over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and began walking toward a metal door at the back of the ring.
I heard something. I don't know if it was real or just imagined: the metallic sound of knives clashing in the distance. Muffled laughter. The crackle of a grill being lit.
I froze. I didn't know if it was from horror or disbelief.
Kirlia pressed her hand against mine. Growlithe let out a low growl, more like a rueful whisper than a threat. The people around me were still cheering, already talking about the next fight. Some were laughing. Others just watched as if all this was… normal.
It wasn't. None of this was.
Feeling disgusted, I stepped back from the sand and climbed back up to continue on my way.
I walked around a bit until I started noticing the logos. Blackcaps with a red R. Belts with emblazoned insignia. Spray-painted murals. The Team Rocket symbol was everywhere, not as a threat, but as a brand… a trend. A normalized presence.
I saw a group of children running, accompanied by a Machop and several Rattatas. They were all wearing T-shirts with "Rocket Forever" printed on the front. They were laughing. They were playing. It looked like a game... but it wasn't.
I discreetly followed them to a small room with a black tarp hanging like a curtain. Inside, there was a makeshift stage, a blackboard with drawings, and a man with his back to me. He had short hair, a jacket with a giant R on the back, and spoke in an enthusiastic voice.
"…imagine having access to combat TMs the League hasn't yet legalized. PokeBalls that work better. Real training. Power. Respect. Brotherhood. Who among you doesn't want that?"
I stood in the doorway, not moving.
The children looked at him with shining eyes. Some couldn't have been more than eight years old. Others already had Poké Balls on their waists.
Kirlia took my hand. Her pulse was trembling.
The recruiter lifted a box and took out a black cap. He tossed it to the audience like a trophy.
"Who wants to become anything more than a nobody up there? Who wants to choose their path?"
One of the boys—the one from Ekans? The one from Spearow?—raised his hand.
I clenched my fists.
Trainer: Maxwell Jones
Hometown: Pewter City
Sponsorship: None
Money: $91,000 Pokedollars -200
Badges: 1.- Boulder Badge, Cascade Badge
Expandable Travel Backpack (Deluxe)
1. 3 potions (1 slot)
2. 3 Rage Candy Bars (1 slot)
3. 10 Pokeballs (2 slots)
4. 1 Escape Rope (1 slot)
5. 1 Red handkerchief with 20 orange berries (1 slot)
6. 3 Antidotes (Poison Cure) (1 slot)
7. Badge case (1 slot)
8. PokéNav (1 slot)
9. Travel Cooking Kit (Includes a folding frying pan, small knife, kettle container, and mini lighter, all in a compact case) – 2 slots
10. Pokémon Food Ration (6-day ration bag) (3 slots)
11. Human food ration (canned and freeze-dried food for 6 days) (2 slots)
12. Basic Camping Kit (Includes Compact Tent, Sleeping Bag, and Collapsible Lantern) – 3 Slots
13. Basic Pokemon care kit (1 slot)
14. Moon Stone (1 slot)
15 TM Rock Slide
Occupied slots: 21/30
Pokémon
Nidorino
Gender: Male
Level: 25
Moves: Read, Peck, Focus Energy, Double Kick, Poison Sting, Rage Attack, Horn Attack Helping Hand, Thunderbolt, Toxic Spikes
Kirlia✨
Gender: Female
Level: 23
Moves: Disarming Voice, Teleport, Growl, Double Team, Hypnosis, Draining Kiss, Lucky Chant, Psybeam, Charm, Magical Leaf
Growlithe
Gender: Male
Level: 24 Moves: Read, Ember, Howl, Bite, Flame Wheel, Flamethrower, Odor Sleuth, Fire Fang