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Corrupt Authority: Chapter 7

by Pokemon Fanfiction Novels

Pokemon Fanfiction Novels
Kenta patted Munchlax’s head with a smile, murmured “good work,” and knelt down beside the sleeping officer.



“Just a little business to take care of, and then we’ll be off,” he announced to Hibiki, handing him the policeman’s I.D. information. “Here, find someplace to drop Officer Takinawa’s badge where he won’t find it. Maybe hold onto it until we’re back in the air, then let it fall wherever.” He pointed towards Tyranitar’s pokeball, which was lying on the ground where “Officer Takinawa” had tossed it. “Crush it to dust, Bolt,” he ordered his dragon pokémon. “I’ll give you the Pidgeot’s ball in a second. Looks like this guy only had two pokémon on him. I guess even higher-up law enforcement has to follow that new ‘two pokémon only’ regulation set down by the government. Let’s hope so, it’ll make things a little easier on us . . .”



“What’re you looking for?” asked Hibiki, standing over Kenta to see more clearly what was going on. Kenta rolled Officer Takinawa’s body over so that he was lying on his other side, then shook his head. “Weird. He hasn’t got a pistol. Do you see one, Hibiki?”



“No, but I can tell you why.” Hibiki held up a finger, happy to know something that Kenta didn’t, for once. “They said on the news that, in exchange for police officers being allowed uber pokémon, lethal arms would no longer be used for law enforcement.”



“. . . Oh.”



Hibiki looked at Kenta, trying to glimpse his face, but Kenta had turned away. “That means less people will die each year,” he said quietly, with the smallest hint of shame in his voice. “The whole of Japan is switching from guns to pokémon, because of G.R.I.P.’s actions. Maybe . . . maybe they’re not all bad in what they’re trying to do.”



“Kenta . . .” Hibiki put a consoling arm around his brother’s shoulder, despite being nearly six inches shorter than him. “It’s like you said. We’re not criminals. Let’s keep to opposing what’s bad, and hanging on to the good.”



“Yeah.” Kenta looked down at him and smiled faintly. “GRIP has some of its priorities right. We’ll do what we can to make them all right, okay?”



“Okay!” Hibiki climbed onto Bolt’s back, as the Salamence was tramping busily on the broken fragments of Pidgeot’s pokeball. “Munchlax, it’s time to go!”



***



About five minutes later, the Nyna brothers had resumed their flight as it had been before they’d been called down by the cop. Hibiki raised Officer Takinawa’s badge over his head and tossed it down into the treetops below, then leaned back and rested against Munchlax’s torso. “I’ve got a question about the battle, Kenta,” he declared, looking behind him at his older brother. Kenta looked back at him invitingly. “Fire away.”



“Bolt and that Tyranitar were about the same level, right?”



“Uh-huh.” Kenta patted the Salamence’s head fondly. “Bolt may have been a little bit higher. We’ve been through nine circles of Hell over the past few weeks.”



“Yeah, but . . .” Hibiki waved his hand impatiently. “One Brick Break knocked that Tyranitar completely out of the picture! Was that really just a regular attack?”



“Sure. It was just a little something I had a friend pick up for me in Celadon Department Store.” Kenta knocked his fists together, symbolizing impact. “But you’ve gotta realize stats and type advantages if you’re ever going to be a pokémon trainer someday, Hibiki. Bolt’s Attack stat is his pride and joy, and Brick Break is a physical move. But more importantly, it’s Fighting-type.” Kenta punched the air animatedly. “And against a pokémon with a type combination of Rock and Dark- boom! That’s a quadruple weakness. All clear?”



“So why’d you do an Aerial Ace earlier?”



“I was hoping to knock his item off.” Kenta reached into Hibiki’s bag and pulled out an oddly-shaped shell on a string. “See this? It’s a Shell Bell. This is the perfect thing to have when you’ve got a really strong fighter pokémon on your team, but no healing items to keep up its health. With every attack you make, it restores hitpoints to your pokémon.” He made a grimacing face. “If that Stone Edge of his had hit first, Bolt would’ve been crushed, and Tyranitar would have probably risen to full health. That was a closer match than you know, dude.”



Kenta’s comment set off another question in Hibiki’s mind. Still seeing no sign of Azalea Town in the distance, he let it go freely. “That sure was close. How’d you know to give Bolt a Cheri Berry in advance? I didn’t know Tyranitar could learn Thunder Wave.”



“Ah, yeah . . .” Kenta scratched the back of his head, looking uncomfortable. “Again, good thing I did, huh? Here’s what you should understand, Hibiki.” He pointed his finger upwards, to indicate he was “making a point.” “The pokémon follows its trainer’s personality, if the two are close. I’ve been told that I’m a jolly kind of guy by many people. Do you believe that?”



“I don’t know. Marina tells me you were always cold-shouldering her.”



Kenta twitched at hearing Marina’s name, turned a little red, then shook his head rapidly. “Beside the point! Anyway, Bolt here also has the ‘jolly’ nature, which appears to make his fire breath weaker than usual, but his speed higher. So he’s pretty darn agile.”



“What does this have to do with the Cheri Berry?”



“I’m getting there!” Kenta held up his finger again. “Bolt excels in speed. But if we were ever to lose that edge, we’d be toast in battle. The quickest way to do that is for the other trainer to hit him with a paralyzing effect. I never know when that’s going to happen, so I usually have Bolt keep a Cheri Berry in one of his cheeks at all times.” He saluted Hibiki briskly. “A good cop is ready for anything.”



Hibiki eyed Kenta carefully. “I’ll say you were ready . . . you must’ve anticipated being shocked by that officer’s tazer, too. How’d you avoid being fried by that?”



“Well that’s-” Kenta stopped, noticing something out of the corner of his eye, then twisted completely around so that his back was to Hibiki again. “Look!” he said distractedly. “There’s Azalea Town, dead ahead. Hold on tight, Hibiki, we’re going down. You too, Munchlax!”



***



Over its years of being a quiet little town in the middle of nowhere, Azalea had become overrun on the outskirts with thicket bushes and wildlife. Since it was the first day of January, all plant life was dead except for the surrounding evergreen pines and the cold-resilient pecha berry trees. Even the town’s Slowpoke population, which matched the humans as closely as kangaroos did Australians in numbers, was nowhere to be seen on the streets. The only signs of life were two woodcutters returning from the Azalea Forest to the west, and one middle-aged female jogger wearing headphones.



Bolt hovered to the ground in a backyard behind a particularly traditional-looking Japanese house, which appeared on first impression to be hundreds of years old. Kenta leaped off the Salamence’s back, and bade Hibiki to follow him while keeping a hand on the dragon pokémon’s head. “You stay here, Bolt. We can’t risk anyone seeing you in the open, even if there is practically nobody out today.”



They walked around to the front of the house, with Munchlax waddling slowly behind, and Kenta knocked on the door. He turned to Hibiki, poking a thumb at it. “Don’t be surprised at anything you may hear, when old Kurt answers. He’s a little out of it in his senior age. But don’t worry . . . we go back, Kurt and I.”



The door slid open, revealing a young man with a pokeball in his hand, holding a hammer in the other. He stared in shock at the two strangers on his doorstep, partially at the youth in Kenta’s brown traveler’s cloak, but primarily at Kenta himself. “Y-you!” he stammered. “But . . . but you . . .”



“Curtis!” said Kenta sternly, pointing at the pokeball in the other man’s hand, “What do you think you’re doing, answering the door with that in plain sight? Have you forgotten what I told you?”



“Uh . . . oh! Sorry. Get in, quickly!”



Kenta reached out and pulled Hibiki through the threshold of the sliding door, and Curtis pulled it shut behind them a second later. The three of them stood looking at each other for a moment, and Curtis pointed at Hibiki. “Erm . . . who’s he?”



“Oh, him?” Kenta patted Hibiki’s shoulder affectionately, giving Curtis a reassuring smile. “We can trust him. He’s my younger brother. Hibiki, this is Curtis Kuchinana, a personal friend of mine, American exchange student, and apprentice to the pokeball master craftsman, Kurt.”



“More like adopted grandson,” coughed Curtis. “Kurt’s getting on in years, and he thinks I’m his actual blood relative these days. My real last name is Sanders.” He looked at Kenta seriously. “More importantly- you’re alive! How did you survive the Silph Incident?” Curtis looked at Kenta’s choice of dress. “And why’re you wearing Brendan Birch’s clothing?”



“There’ll be time for that later,” said Kenta hastily, checking around the room to make sure all the window shutters were closed. “Curtis, is your grandpa in? I really need to talk to him about something. It’s very important!”
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