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Rattata Chapter 58: Blackmail and Gambling
🕑 Added 2025-05-17 10:27:04 +0000 UTC“Jonathan Joestar is the name of the corpse you’re wearing like a badly fitted suit. I want to know the identity of the soul piloting the bo
“Jonathan Joestar is the name of the corpse you’re wearing like a badly fitted suit. I want to know the identity of the soul piloting the body.”
Joey’s blood froze in his veins at the accusation, and he barely stopped himself from looking around to check if anyone had overheard them.
“If you’re too small-minded to understand the concept of reincarnation, then don’t accuse people of possession,” he replied angrily. “A corpse can’t grow older.”
Agatha stared at him and tapped her cane on the floor. “Regardless, a body taken over by what must be a remnant of the past, it’s concerning. It makes me believe that the veil between life and death is growing thinner. There have been worrying things happening in Lavender…” she trailed off.
“When a body dies, the soul that inhabited it is transferred to the next after being cleansed in the river of Lethe, the river of forgetfulness. It’s hard to make souls, you think the gods don’t recycle?” Joey asked rhetorically before shaking his head. “Sometimes the process, like any process, fails. That’s when you get a soul that might appear bloated for the age of its body.”
“That’s certainly an interesting explanation,” Agatha replied with a scoff.
Joey shrugged, it was the explanation that he found the most likely. It wasn’t like he’d done anything in his last life to become a reincarnator.
“What do you want anyway? Don’t the Elite Four have bigger issues to worry about? Team Rocket is running rampant, and the age of gods is starting anew,” he complained. There was no way that the world had been so tumultuous before Ash had started his journey. A region-destroying event couldn’t possibly happen every year. With the birth of that kid, something had shifted.
“What do you know of legends?” Agatha snarled, smacking her cane onto the ground.
“Smell the flowers, look at the sun, feel the wind on your skin. The world is changing. Being a ghost will only numb your senses to the call of destiny,” Joey replied cryptically.
“If you have reason to suspect that-” Agatha started before Joey interrupted her.
“Is that any way to speak to your elders?” he asked with a smirk.
Agatha suddenly gave a full-bellied laugh. “Perhaps you’re right. Out with it, respected senior.”
Joey wondered if this was his opportunity. An opportunity to take away the heavy destiny lying on a young boy’s shoulders. To alert the powers that be, the league of the impending disasters. The rampage of the legendary birds, Mewtwo, Kyogre and Groudon, Team Galactic.
But, in the media everything had worked out fine. Was he willing to risk that changing? Did it matter? Ash had clearly been prophesied, and once something was fated there was hardly that could cut the string of fate drawn millenia ago.
“I don’t truly know more than you, I only know one thing,” Joey eventually decided to say. “Fate has determined that everything will work out in the end.” This had been the case both in the games and in the movies. His belief had recently become that Pokemon simply wasn’t a grimdark world and that, thus, things tended to work out rather than not.
“What do you mean?” Agatha asked urgently.
Joey knew the prophecy by heart, and it was, after all, a significant part of the world-building he’d had to confirm when being born here. “The prophecy spoken at Shamouti: Disturb not the harmony of fire, ice or lightning, lest these titans wreak destruction upon the world in which they clash. Though the water's great guardian shall arise to quell the fighting, alone its song will fail, lest the earth shall turn to ash. O Chosen One, into thine hands, bring together all three. Their treasures combined tame the Beast of the Sea.”
“That old drivel?” Agatha interrupted with narrowed eyes. She then paused and grinned. “Well, you are old, outdated people tend to hold on to unscientific beliefs.” She cackled.
Joey could only cross his arms and sigh. Bringing up some cryptic fate stuff wasn’t working as well since Agatha still seemed to want to discuss something.
He’d never actually considered if anyone could recognise him for what he was, a reincarnation, although if anyone it likely would have been Agatha. Or Arceus maybe.
“Well, whatever,” the old crone suddenly muttered. “I’ve seen weirder, old souls with intact memories, that’s just a Sunday,” she said, referring to the fact that it was Sunday.
“There’s definitely much weirder stuff running around,” Joey agreed with a sigh, thinking of all the shenanigans that Ash Ketchum would get into once he started his journey.
“Out of curiosity, though,” Agatha started. “Why aren’t you training more ghost-type Pokemon?” she asked.
Joey gave her a blank look. The thing about the tier system, the way it worked for youngsters and trainers, was that no one could have a starter that was a ghost. The lowest-tier ghost available in Kanto was Misdreavus at tier 2. “The tier system,” he thus said, before shaking his head. “But also, I don’t want to specialise in a type. I just want Pokemon that have that never-give-up attitude, no matter their species.”
The Elite Four member scowled. “Tier system, never a more idiotic thing to be created. If someone is dumb enough to try to capture a Pokemon that’s too aggressive or powerful for them, then let them suffer the consequences. Call it a learning experience.”
“Well, you seem to agree with Oak on that one,” Joey muttered. “The tier system is stupid.”
Agatha struck her gnarly wooden cane onto the floor and scowled. “Don’t compare me to that buffoon,” she demanded loudly, before calming down again. “We’ll have to work on that,” she said quietly, hopefully referring to the tier system.
“Anyway,” Joey started. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention too much of that whole reincarnation thing to others; I don’t want it to spread around too much.”
Agatha hummed thoughtfully. “I’m quite old,” she said slowly. “It’s hard to keep track of what I say sometimes.”
Joey scowled at her. He’d never wanted to tell anyone his status as an old soul, even in a magical world where it maybe wasn’t such a big deal. Considering that ancient kings, legendary Pokemon, time travel and everything existed, one dude remembering his past life wasn’t that big a deal. As long as no one found out he remembered the plotline of several different versions of Pokemon media, he should be safe.
Still, that didn’t mean he wanted to advertise it.
“What do you want?” he asked with a sigh, receiving a smirk in return.
“You know about the aura guardians and how different trainers can access different typings of aura, mostly depending on their specialisation,” she stated.
Joey nodded. Aura guardians were rare, mostly found in Sinnoh, where they bonded with Lucario and usually did the job of a ranger. Interacting with wild Pokemon communities, saving villages from rampages, things like that. The possibility of aura attunement if one spent long enough around one particular type was well known to him as well. Psychics, as the biggest representation of the phenomena of attuned aura users, were sometimes just born that way.
“Well, it just so happens there’s something in Lavender that requires the attention of three ghost-attuned aura users to work together. Considering the rarity of our specialisations, I’ve long since given up on the idea of accomplishing it. But, meeting another ghost-attuned human means I’m only missing one other.” She paused. “I heard there’s a promising girl in Hoenn undergoing the circuit right now,” she muttered, seemingly talking to herself.
“And what is this task?” Joey asked. He didn’t know if Agatha was a Lavender native, although it would make sense. He didn’t remember much about the town, only that it housed the graveyard tower and that one needed a Silph Scope or something in the games to fight a ghost there.
Agatha scowled at him. “None of your business. Be there when I call you, and I’ll call us even,” she said before sinking to the floor and disappearing into her own shadow.
Joey stood there for a few moments, contemplating what had just happened.
People like Agatha existed, crass, selfish, forceful, but he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more to the story. She had been cagey.
Joey didn’t know much about the Pokemon Tower in Lavender, but maybe it was time to find out more. However, what in hell would require three ghost-attuned humans? It was one of the rarest aura types anyone could unlock, since ghosts were the most dangerous Pokemon type to specialise in. If anyone designed something that required three such specialists, then they likely didn’t want the task to be completed.
The whole nonsense spiel Agatha had concocted had thus just been a set-up for some light blackmail, then.
The youngster clenched his fists and stepped up to the large glass overlooking the arena. The time until the second half of the match was counting down, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Agatha had been… Not a good encounter, which just went to show why Ghost was super-effective against Ghost. Bunch of assholes.
In fact, other than the Rockets he’d fought in Cerulean, the conversation he was still reeling from had been the worst one he’d had since his rebirth in the Pokemon world.
The question remained however, what exactly did Agatha want? Depending on what the task she needed three ghost-attuned humans was, her motivations were either good or bad. But… If her motivations were good, she likely would have been more forthcoming with her information.
“A frightening woman,” a male voice suddenly commented from behind Joey, causing the boy to turn around and give Koga the stink eye.
“Yeah, I noticed you were scared alright,” he commented darkly.
The gym leader closed his eyes and nodded his head. “A ninja always knows when to fight and when to run.”
Joey huffed. “What do you know about the Pokemon Tower in Lavender?” he asked.
Fuschia was close enough, right?
Koga hummed thoughtfully. “An old structure. It reaches back to the age when humans treated powerful Pokemon like gods, instead of partners. I know that it has served as a burial ground since before written records of it existed. Most shrine maidens of Kanto receive their education there.” He shook his head. “That’s all.”
“Good to know,” Joey muttered.
“It was nice seeing you, Jonathan,” Koga said. “I look forward to hearing about your eventual success with Metapod.” Then he was gone.
Joey stood there on his lonesome for a while longer. It seemed that no matter what however, it was time to start teaching his Pokemon anti-ghost tactics, even if it was in the hope of never needing them.
Whatever Agatha was looking for in the tower, it probably wasn’t her mom’s missing apple pie recipe.
And if Agatha herself was the problem? Well, she was a member of the Elite Four, so she could make Joey’s life very difficult if she so desired.
For now, it would be better to stay tight, train and observe.
-/-
Back in the private box he shared with Michelle and Erika, Joey dully gazed down at the battle unfolding below.
Bruno’s Onix, the one who had already suffered burns, was making short work of Blaine’s Rapidash, whose incessant uses of Bounce weren’t quite the counter-strategy to Earthquake that others might have perhaps envisioned.
The first half of the battle had been electric, partially because of his own anticipation. But now, the entire experience fell apart and he felt like his mouth was clogged with ash.
He thumbed at his PokeNav, which now held Daisy’s number, the girl finally having managed to approach him after Agatha and Koga had disappeared.
Rapidash went down with one last blast of fire, and Magcargo took to the field.
Once again, the battlefield was turned into lava, shortly after which, Onix went down.
The mood in the private box was subdued; only Erika was happy that her muscled hunk was winning.
Michelle was facing the reality that her preparations for Bruno were evaporating in thin air as it seemed like he’d win. The fighting-type master had three Pokemon left, Blaine had two.
Joey, meanwhile, was stuck thinking about his encounter with Agatha, what it meant, and what it could mean.
The rest of the battle passed in a blur. Hitmonchan managed to knock out Magcargo, which was then replaced with a Typhlosion.
Hitmonchan went down to the final evolution of the Johto starter, at which point Bruno revealed his second Onix.
The battle ended in a double knockout, Bruno winning as he had one more Pokemon left.
Blaine walked up to his younger counterpart to shake his hand and immediately after the battle, took the microphone and announced his retirement, effective by the end of the week.
The crowd respectfully applauded the resignation and cheered at the battle.
Blaine’s battle against Michelle would be his last battle in his capacity as an Elite Four member.
“Fuck,” Michelle said simply, before shaking her head, standing up, and leaving the private box without a goodbye.
Erika, similarly, but more cheerfully, told Joey goodbye before turning around and leaving.
He was left alone in the private box as the end of the introduction sequence was announced. Blaine and Bruno had opened the conference, and in an hour or so, younger and less accomplished trainers would flood the field in their search for glory.
Joey had once again increased his fortune through his betting strategy. For some odd reason, the thought left him cold.
Money wouldn’t save him right now.
What he needed most of all was power.
-/- The gambling association of Kanto
“We are in big trouble people, and I want a solution, yesterday!” Michael slammed his right palm on the meeting table in front of him to create a dramatic noise. Unfortunately, the table being made from steel rather than wood or plastic meant that his palm lost, rather than won that battle.
A dull thud, more of a squeak, really, resounded through the medium-sized meeting room composed of glass walls with its eight chairs and one white paper board with a bright, childish bar chart on it.
“Ah, Ah, Ah,” Michael muttered quietly as he hopped in place while his employees awkwardly watched, exchanging exasperated glances until the performance ended. A Drowzee seated on a red plastic chair in the corner dutifully recorded the happenings and words spoken.
Michael tousled his short black hair, awkwardly smiled at the people assembled, while hiding the swollen fist behind his back. He stiffly walked to the white paper board and pointed at it with his other hand.
“Focus, people,” he shouted dramatically. His finger traced the bar chart on the paper until it reached an odd peak at the absolute start.
“These twelve-year-olds,” Michael cut a thumb across his neck, “are butchering us.”
One of the employees raised a hand.
Michael coughed into his fist, adjusted his tie, before pointing to the blonde woman. “Yes, Savanna?” he asked.
“Michael, did you use online software to make the graph again? You know we have a licensed program for that. Competitors could steal this data,” she complained in a soft and exasperated voice. “Also, why did you use a cursive font for the title? It's unprofessional.”
The black-haired man dramatically threw his hands in the air before using both of them to point at his face, which was being mastered into a rigid mask of happiness. “I was trying to bring some levity into this office, ok? Is that alright? Am I allowed to? It’s a bit hard sometimes when a certain, SOMEONE! Keeps switching the coffee mix in the machine to decaf!” he screamed, accusingly looking at the mentally absent and slightly pudgy Stanley.
“Michael, for the last time, I am not the one switching the coffee,” the man said tiredly, seemingly used to the accusation.
“Can we get back on point? I want to go home. My daughter has rollerblading practice,” one of the other employees said with a raised hand.
Michael sighed and turned back to the board, pointing once again at the huge spike in gambling winnings in the twelve-year-old category. The whole group was earning approximately 590102 Pokedollars per year, instead of, like all other categories, losing money on average. The 50-60 age category was even losing 90100 Pokedollars a year, a new high! Or low? “I don’t know how many ways to express the severity of this situation,” he said with a long-suffering sigh. He pointed again, before looking at the gathered employees. “Muchoooo,” he drawled out, “baaddddd.” He then turned to Jim, a tallish trollish-looking guy in a sloppy suit. “What do you have to say for yourself, Jim?” he asked.
Jim blankly stared back. “Michael, I only provided you the report with the data, some of which you used to make your chart. Also, did you only read the first page?” he asked.
Michael froze, a finger raised in the air, prepped to be thrown down and dispense accusatory justice. “Of course not,” the man snorted. “I read the whole thing.”
Jim rolled his eyes. “Then you would know that I added the average gains and losses more as a joke, the median is still healthy. Sure, the average 12-year-old is making a killing, but only like, well, 5 of them gamble. One of them made a million on two lucky bets, and that's it. The other age categories outnumber the 12-year-old one by about,” he put up a hand to start counting fingers before quickly running out, “a lot,” he finished.
“So there’s no problem?” Michael asked awkwardly.
Jim shook his head before shrugging. “I just collect the data, but from my perspective, not really?”
“So I should retract that proposal I sent to the League about banning those holding a youngster's license from gambling for the sake of strengthening youth education and prosperity?”
A loud thud suddenly resounded from the room as Kleetus, head of the legal division, slammed his fist on the table. “Arceus dammit Michael!” the beefy man spat. “We fought tooth and nail to grant those poor children, most of them orphaned, their God-given right to exert their freedom as tax-paying citizens of this beautiful nation. We are not revoking their access to gambling!” he shouted manically at the end.
“Also, assuming that this one particular 12-year-old won because of his insights rather than luck, then retracting the permission would simply mean that the real 12-year-old customers would not give us any money, whereas this particular child would simply continue his spree once he turned thirteen,” Savanna added dully.
An electronic ringtone suddenly started blasting through the office. “Whatcha gon’ do with all that junk, all that junk inside your trunk? I’ma get, get, get, get you drunk. Get you love drunk off my hump. My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,” an annoying voice started singing.
Michael froze like a deer in the headlights, hands fumbling in his pants pocket to get at the phone, creating a sexual harassment claim in his pocket. Not the first object in his pockets which had that dubious honour, but we don’t need to talk about the penis enlargement pump and its unsuitability as a joke prop in a work environment.
Michael continued fumbling, dropping the phone, picking it up, dropping it again, before simply laying down on the ground and answering.
The eight employees couldn’t see what happened next as their boss was lying on the floor, but they could hear it.
“Mr. Goodshow, so great to hear from you!” Michael’s voice resounded happily.
…
“Yes, yes about that…”
…
“You say you’re very grateful?”
…
“Yes, we are thinking of the children here at the Gambling Association of Kanto. In fact, they’re all we think of, all dayyyy loonnggg.”
…
“Yes, I’m sorry, Mr. Goodshow, I will work on my phrasing.”
…
“Commemorative tickets to the Indigo Conference? Private Box?” Michael exclaimed excitedly.
…
“Yes, yes, I completely agree. Moral choice should be rewarded in this world beset on all sides by greed and a single-minded focus on increasing shareholder value!”
…
“The Gambling Association of Kanto is happy to lead the charge. Thank you for your time!”
The call ended, and Michael happily got to his feet, putting his phone back in his pocket.
Kleetus was running red in the face, and it was looking like he might have a heart attack.
Michael grinned happily and threw out his arms. “Guess who was just invited to watch the conference with the president of the League?”
-/-
“I’m sorry, but we got a notice from upstairs,” the clerk at the gambling booth in front of the Indigo stadium said to Joey as he handed out the youngster’s winnings from the Blaine vs. Bruno match. Or rather, the slip proving the winnings, the actual money having already been transferred to Joey’s bank account.
“Why are you sorry for that?” Joey asked absent-mindedly, still primarily thinking of his unpleasant conversation with Agatha.
The twenty-something clerk awkwardly rubbed his head. “We just got a notice that the Gambling Association of Kanto has finished some negotiations with the League. The Youngster License no longer allows for legal gambling activities on behalf of the holder.”
Joey blinked once, twice, before shaking his head. He’d nearly doubled his 350k, Bruno, he wasn’t really planning on betting on anything large at the moment. Lance and Agatha could go both ways to be honest, maybe the boy needed a consolidation year in the Elite Four. Also, well. “It’s ok,” he told the clerk and pulled out his license. “The season is officially over, and so is the youngster's program. I’m a trainer now,” he said, tapping the appropriate section of the license.
The clerk leaned in before laughing happily. “Good news then!” he said happily. “Would you like to place a bet while you’re here?” he asked.
The new trainer nodded, looked up at the billboard depicting the odds and saw that Lorelei, despite her relatively good chances, currently only had 1/10 odds of getting to the finals and 1/17 odds of winning. The odds would continuously get better for her as the tournament progressed, so now was the best time to make a bet. He didn’t know if she’d win now; he only knew she’d be a member of the Elite Four in four years. It could be this year or next. But, she’d probably reached the finals. The odds were only low because a lot could happen until then.
“I’ll take 120k on Lorelei getting to the finals,” Joey thus told the clerk, who nodded happily.
“If I win, then it's another million in the bank with those odds,” the boy muttered to himself as the clerk completed the requisite paperwork. “That would put me at… two million.”
“Here’s your ticket,” the clerk said as he handed Joey his slip. “It’s also logged digitally against your trainer license of course, have a nice day!” he said cheerily.
Joey waved goodbye and turned around, storing the slip in his badge case.
The clerk raised an eyebrow.
“Weird, why is he carrying a Metapod on his back?” he muttered to himself.
Comments
bor902
I going for exactly this meme, thank you.
Green0Photon
"average 12 year old wins $590102 a year" factoid actualy just statistical error. average 12 year old eats 0 spiders per year. Ghost Joey, who lives in wild & wins millions each bet, is an outlier adn should not have been counted
Gremlin Jack
I've never watched The Office but even I recognized the Michael Scott cameo. You certainly captured the energy of the original.
