The Ghost Specialist

The Explosion blasted back the fog and consumed the decoy campsite. Primeape and Ursaring disappeared as the sea of flames rushed Sam and Redi. Misdreavus and Porygon acted simultaneously, unleashing a dual Psybeam that sliced through the edge of the dissipating explosion. They carved out a gap that let their small group go unaffected.

Sam felt the heat flow past his sides. The air was briefly too hot to breathe. He was left blinking, recoiling, and a few wild Gastly peeked out of the canopy above.

Primeape was unconscious. Ursaring was unconscious. Those two were out of the fight, but so were Petrel’s Raticate and the Weezing that had just blown up. However, Petrel’s shout of Explosion was more than just a command. It was also a keyword that saw Golbat lunge backward to snatch him up, using its feet to latch around Petrel’s shoulders and take him away.

“H-Haunter!”

Sam’s shout was hoarse. He didn’t miss that if Misdreavus and Porygon hadn’t been close, that Explosion would have left him and Redi in no state to give orders. Yet, he could see Petrel’s Golbat bringing the man away through the trees. Sam pulled himself away from the thoughts of “what-if” to run over the scorched forest floor that was once a fake campsite. Redi stayed behind.

Primeape and Ursaring were returned. Haunter left Sam’s shadow to enter the air. Sam did his best to run after the fleeing Petrel, who honestly wasn’t moving with much speed. The criminal’s Pokémon could barely flap its wings thanks to the Lick-inflicted paralysis Haunter had applied at the start of the battle.

“Sam,” Redi called out. She didn’t move from where she stood. “You don’t need to bother. We’re about to win.”

Sam’s adrenaline had spiked alongside that Explosion, so, weirdly, it was both impossible and extremely easy for Sam to focus. Anything he looked at, he was able to see with full intensity, but everything else around it faded away.

The Weezing’s move had been blinding, but the forest’s remnant moonlight let Sam see. Petrel’s Golbat rushed past the trunks of an open path of trees, desperately trying to bring its owner out and away from danger.

Except, it wasn’t succeeding with that plan. Petrel and his Golbat weren’t alone. As Petrel shouted at his Pokémon to go faster, beneath them, a pair of red eyes opened up in their shared shadow.

“Oh,” Sam said.

He slowed down to watch what was about to happen. He took this opportunity to breathe.

That fog creature from earlier wasn’t actually the fog itself. It was a Pokémon that had controlled the fog to hide its presence and appear more intimidating.

Its cheshire grin was familiar. That smile was far too toothy, and the Pokémon was far too enthusiastic in general. Like a zombie pulling itself free from the earth, a Gengar surfaced from the ground, Petrel and Golbat’s shadow dragging it along without any need for it to catch up by itself.

Golbat dangled Petrel beneath him, and that meant the man’s legs hung loosely just above the forest floor. Petrel was scowling—or at least Sam assumed so. The criminal was mostly staying quiet, likely to try to hide his escape, but he seemed unable to resist giving orders to his Golbat in an attempt to have it move quicker than a slow running speed.

He gave one last, angry order to his Pokémon, but his command never finished. Halfway through an insult, Petrel cut himself off with a sudden yelp.

Casually bringing up a single hand, the Gengar was able to yank Petrel free from Golbat’s grip and send the Team Rocket lieutenant crashing to the ground. He bounced, the impact leaving a groove in the dirt, but he wasn’t out of it just yet. He laid on his back and groaned while the Gengar floated into the air, silently holding its stomach in noiseless laughter and bouncing around the injured man with glee.

“Make sure these two don’t wake up, Misdreavus,” Sam said, glancing at the fainted Raticate and Weezing on the ground. “Haunter, come with me.”

“Follow, Porygon,” Redi added.

They left the campsite together, leaving behind Petrel’s abandoned Pokémon and heading to the man himself. Gengar continued to merrily float around the fallen man, keeping itself to the edge of Petrel’s vision. He had yet to notice the Ghost Type was there. However, as neither Sam nor Redi made any attempts to hide themselves, the sound of their footsteps caused Petrel to force himself to recover and snap his gaze their way.

For some reason, Gengar disappeared instead of bringing Petrel down once again. Petrel shook his head, unaware of the red eyes behind him, and glowered at Sam and Redi, narrowing his eyes.

His face was red with both rage and exhaustion.

“You,” he hissed.

He shakily pushed to his feet. His black Team Rocket uniform was marred with dirt.

“Everything comes back to you, doesn’t it?” he shouted. “Goldenrod. Azalea. Violet City. And now this?”

Petrel laughed.

“Come at me, then! Try me! I’m not done just yet!”

He reached to his side as if to grab a Pokéball, but there was nothing there, and he was left blinking. Petrel looked down, completely bewildered at his empty side. The Gengar silently reappeared right behind his head and held up a certain spherical object. It mimicked snickering, but it still didn’t make any noise.

Sam suddenly felt so, so tired. He just wanted this to be over.

“Take him out with Hypnosis, Haunter,” he said. “Make sure Petrel doesn’t—”

Redi interrupted him by dashing forward.

Unexpectedly confronted by an angry, teenage girl, Petrel took a hurried step back and glanced to his side as if to search for an escape route. He looked back to gauge how much distance remained between them, but Redi was fit and had the momentum. Her speed carried her forward faster than Petrel expected.

She jumped.

Sam exhaled.

A fist impacted Petrel’s face, and the man was sent crumpling to the ground. To add insult to injury, Haunter chose that moment to use Hypnosis on him. Petrel never got a chance to respond, being sent into a deep, deep slumber.

“Alright. Now we’ve won,” Redi said.

She rubbed her fist and winced. There were red marks on her knuckles.

But it was over.

Less than a minute later, a thump marked a large Pidgeot landing back at the destroyed campsite. A goggles-wearing woman in a red vest looked around, alert. Behind her, a man jumped onto the forest floor and stared at Sam and Redi as they dragged Petrel back to everyone else.

Morty had his mouth open, but he seemed to be at a loss for words. He had jumped off that Pidgeot clearly expecting to battle. He held a Pokéball in one hand, and shadows churned under his feet.

However, the clearing was silent outside of Petrel’s unconscious groans. Morty locked his eyes onto the unconscious man wearing a Team Rocket uniform, and, disbelieving, rubbed his head to take a moment to process it.

He held a palm up in the air, and Gengar faded into being underneath it. Morty absentmindedly rubbed his Pokémon’s head.

“...So you found them?” Morty asked the Pokémon.

Gengar excitedly pointed around at all the Gastly still in the trees. Morty nodded quietly, still needing a moment to process.

“You went to where all the Ghost Types were. I see.” He paused. “...I think.”

“That’s Petrel’s Weezing and Raticate,” Sam said as he pointed to the fainted Pokémon. “And there are unconscious Koffing spread out nearby, too.”

“We’ll collect them,” Morty said. He sent a few gestured commands to the Ace Trainer with him, and she replied with a thumbs up before jumping off to tie up the sleeping Petrel, first.

“And his Golbat?” Morty asked.

Redi pointed to a tree back where they’d just brought Petrel. Several branches were broken, and an unconscious Golbat lay dangling between its leaves. Since it was providing a counterforce to keep Petrel in the air, when the Gengar snatched its passenger away, it suddenly found itself slamming into the tree, which ultimately knocked it out.

Sam wasn’t sure how he missed that.

Adrenaline, probably.

He could still feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Morty took a long moment to stare at the bat Pokémon. He stared at Petrel, the fallen Pokémon, and the ruins of the campsite around them. He opened his mouth to comment, but all that came out was a short laugh.

“Wow,” he said. “Lance can’t get upset about this.”

“We captured Petrel!” Redi said proudly.

“You did. You really did.”

He licked his lips, still needing to process what had gone on, and he held up a hand to silently ask Sam and Redi to stay there while he brought up a PokéGear.

As he stepped away to begin making several calls, Sam and Redi released Primeape and Ursaring to begin treating their wounds. Thankfully, due to all the spare healing supplies they’d brought, it wouldn’t be too hard to make sure they were in good health.

Sam knelt before his unconscious Pokémon. Like Ursaring, Primeape had bald patches and areas of burned hair, but he was otherwise fine—Explosion was a battle-legal move, after all. A few liberal uses of Super Potions meant he came to soon enough, and a vein throbbed on his head in anger. Primeape grunted, annoyed at how “easily” he had fainted, but schadenfreude passed across his face as he noticed the unconscious Petrel off to the side.

“Good job, Primeape. You managed to hold Petrel off just long enough for us to win.”

Sam hugged his Pokémon, and Primeape proudly replied with his name. Petrel almost got away in the end, but they didn't need to win directly. The whole purpose of this was to delay until they got help, and Morty’s Gengar had finished the job for them.

Though the way it held back at the end—was it purposefully giving Redi a chance to punch Petrel in the face? Did Morty tell it to do that?

For some reason, Sam thought back to Nurse Joy’s promise from back when they were first discussing the problem of Petrel.

“...Alright. I suppose I need to give you two a rundown about what happened,” Morty said, heading over once a few other Ace Trainers had arrived and began the clean-up process within these woods.

“Petrel provided Koffing to several groups and had them rob stores throughout Violet City,” Morty said. “He timed it so they all attacked at the same time, and that forced members of our patrols away, giving him gaps in which to escape. But even with that, he should have never been able to go after you here. You were meant to be a backup plan for a backup plan. I can’t apologize enough for risking—”

Sam hurriedly brought up his hands to stop Morty before he could bow in apology. He pushed back to his feet and glanced over to Redi. She was still rubbing her hurt fist, but she did so proudly.

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it has to be,” she said. “Everything worked out. And I got to punch Petrel in the face!”

“And I got to watch Petrel be punched in the face,” Sam added.

“You know you’re admitting to a—” Morty shook his head. “Nevermind. Though, I might have words with a certain someone later.”

His Gengar drifted off into the darkness of the woods, snickering as it did.

“So, like, how many Koffing did that guy have, anyway?” Redi asked. “Cause, like, he had way more than six.”

“As of our last count, thirty-three.”

A shout came from behind Morty.

“Thirty-four!”

Sam blanched at the idea of one man having so many explosive Pokémon hidden on him. Koffing were common to cities that struggled with pollution and were generally considered pests, so it wouldn’t be too hard for someone like Petrel to gather up so many with ease. Heck, with the right support, Sam was pretty sure anyone could build up a “disposable” team if they so wanted.

...He tried not to think about it.

“Regardless, Petrel risked finishing off a job and was captured as a result. This is where I’d normally send you back to the Pokémon Center to rest, but I’m not comfortable returning you to a city in which a criminal organized so many violent crimes at once. If he created a backup plan, I don’t want to risk it. No, please tell me where you want to head next.”

Sam exchanged a look with Redi. She chewed on her cheek, considering Morty’s offer.

“Our basic plan was to circle through Johto...” Sam started.

“Can you send us to Mr. Pokémon’s house?” Redi suddenly asked. “That’s not rude, is it? I heard he was always accepting guests.”

Morty considered her words before nodding his head.

“I can do that. Mr. Pokémon’s house has effectively turned into a rest stop for people traveling between Cherrygrove and Violet City. It might sound a bit weird, but it’s nothing too unusual.” He paused for a second. “But Sam. I apologize for rushing through this, but we do need to talk once you return to Ecruteak City. There are rules about carrying capacity for Ghost Types that I have a feeling you’ll need to know.”

Morty’s gaze briefly flicked up to where a few Gastly were still lingering in the trees.

“I will,” Sam said.

“And I still need to battle you! Wait for me!” Redi said, grinning at Morty and holding one of her Pokéballs forward.

The Gym Leader chuckled.

“Of course. But it might be a while before I head back. I still have... paperwork to get through.”

He shuddered.

Morty brought up a Pokéball, and a Pokémon Sam had only ever seen in the New Pokédex appeared before him. It floated in the air, taller than Morty, and it inflated and deflated every so slightly while letting out a trill.

A Drifblim.

It looked like a hot air balloon without a basket, and a pair of tiny, red eyes on its body curved up in a smile to greet everyone here.

“Drifblim, can you take these two to Mr. Pokémon’s house to the east? His home should be large enough to be visible from above,” Morty said.

The Drifblim said its name and a yellow cross on its face vibrated alongside the sound. Morty used another Pokéball—one intended for item storage—to send out a half-assembled metal basket. With ease, Drifblim floated over and used its tendrils to rapidly assemble the basket and latch onto a large, metal handle.

“Feel free to climb in,” Morty said.

Sam and Redi climbed over the edge to stand inside, and Sam felt a little jealous. Between Dusclops, Gengar, and now Drifblim, Morty had frequently sent out his Pokémon to take care of tasks, and each one had been strong enough to not be threatened by anything they faced.

He desperately wanted to become a strong enough trainer to go through the same. Silently, he vowed that one day his Pokémon would match Morty’s team and even surpass them, too.

“You’ll get your compensation for this soon enough. The League won’t be able to delay for long after tonight’s success. I’ll also call Mr. Pokémon to give him a heads-up about your arrival. Please, get some rest, and don’t worry about Petrel any longer.”

“Thank you,” Sam said.

Redi sent Morty her thanks as well.

Morty shook his head as Drifblim inflated and started to bring them into the air.

“No,” Morty said. “You two didn’t need to help, but you did. Without you... Genuinely, thank you for everything.”

And they were brought into the sky, being carried towards the end of Route 31. Sam wanted to stay up to memorize every detail of what it was like to be carried by an honest-to-goodness Ghost Type, but he hit a wall of exhaustion, and he also realized he hated being so far above the ground, too.

It honestly didn’t take long to reach the end of the Route. There, they were deposited outside of an old, Johtonian-styled compound, where a man dressed like a butler led them to a pair of available guest rooms.

The second he was in this safe space, Sam felt all his adrenaline fade away. He released his Pokémon, walked over to the bed, and let his exhaustion consume him.

Finally, the stress of having to deal with Petrel faded from his mind.

When he woke up, Petrel's head was pounding and there was an ache in his nose. He felt no injuries, but there was a lingering warmth as if he’d been recently healed. He could feel metal beneath him, and his hands were locked together behind his back. The walls and floor shook.

He was in a truck.

An armored one, most likely.

A small, metal grate separated him from the driver, who was too busy focusing on the road to notice he was awake. Petrel kept himself as still as possible to disguise his regained consciousness. He focused on what he still had on him and found little. As far as he could tell, all of his hidden Pokéballs had been removed, and he was no longer wearing his Team Rocket uniform.

Yet, when he felt something within his closed hand, he barely managed to suppress his smile.

Something small and round had been pressed into his palm while he had been asleep. With it, there was the obvious feeling of something rough and flat—a folded piece of paper. Likely, a note had been slipped to him as well.

He waited until the perfect moment, bouncing ever so slightly when the truck hit a large enough bump. His hands might have been bound behind his back, but he was still able to toss over the paper to make it visible on the bench to his side.

The message was simple, but it was clearly intended for him. As soon as he realized who it was from, he did his best to not shake.

“You have made a mess. Yet, that mess is in our favor. Trust has been established, but not without cost. Focus on recruitment for now. Do not take my leniency for granted.

“You will not fail me again.”

A cold, primal fear lingered inside Petrel, but that fear wasn’t sourced from the unconscious reaction of his hindbrain. When it came to ghosts, he feared what might happen, but when presented with this note, he now feared what would happen.

Petrel could feel the sweat on his face as he sat up on the cold, hard bench. He scooted over to sit on the note to hide it, doing his best to keep his breathing calm and controlled. He no longer bothered to hide that he was awake. He leaned back and stared at the featureless ceiling of the truck above him in an attempt to calm down.

“A mess, huh?” he mumbled.

His insides churned, but he recognized that not everyone got a second chance. For all the trouble he caused in Violet City, the Boss was still able to fix that mess and further Team Rocket’s goals.

How he had managed to do that, Petrel wasn’t sure. No one knew the true identity of the Boss, but given the mention of ‘trust,’ he could guess that the shadowy mastermind was somehow involved with the League.

And if the Boss is trusting me with that information...

Petrel breathed out when he realized that the Boss was probably in a good mood. He didn’t need to panic—at least not fully, and at least not yet.

“Already awake? And smiling? No reason for you to look like that, right now.”

Petrel met the eyes of the driver through the vehicle’s rearview mirror. His expression was mostly a disguise to hide his true feelings, and to maintain that, he sent the uniformed man a wink.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Petrel said. “Just thinking about... cleaning.”

“You’re smiling about cleaning,” the driver replied flatly.

Petrel shook his head and said nothing more, bringing his gaze back up to the smooth metal roof. His hands were still locked behind him, but not in a way that would make it impossible to escape if needed. Even more, he could feel that minimized Pokéball in his palm. What Pokémon it was, he had no clue, but whatever it was, it would surely be able to help him inside wherever he was going.

If the Boss is giving me a second chance, I can’t mess up again. I might have a Pokémon with me, but I doubt it’d let me escape without making a scene. If he wants me to build contacts...

Petrel gulped.

I guess my capture is going to put me in contact with a whole bunch of people like us, won’t it?

He was going to have to flounder in prison for a while. It didn’t matter if he was left on his own—he could absolutely keep everything he knew secret, regardless of whoever the Pokémon League sent his way. The Boss liked to punish people for their mistakes, and it seemed that punishment wouldn’t skip over him.

He would be forced to stay in a Pokémon League prison. Ordered to, more specifically, and that made Petrel chafe. Yet, though he had really screwed things up, not all hope was lost. He was still useful. Petrel hadn’t been tossed to the side just yet.

The low hum of the truck’s engine continued as the vehicle rumbled over a bumpy road. Petrel forced his reactions to be under his control as he listened to his surroundings, trying to piece together exactly where they were.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he’d find out soon enough. Now wasn’t the time to escape. He needed to make a plan and wait a while longer.

When Petrel eventually managed to find a way out, it’d likely be on the Boss’s orders, however long it took to receive them. And, with the orders he’d just been given, he likely wouldn’t be alone, either. Except, he’d need to be careful about it, but he wasn’t too worried about getting out of a restricted space. He wasn’t just anyone—he was Petrel, a professional thief.

And more than that, Petrel was a master. Not of disguise, but of something more important. He could definitely be patient to achieve a task like this. Just like what he’d done back in Violet City, everything boiled down to getting the right timing, in the end.

He just hoped that would come sooner rather than later.