Pokémon We’ll Meet At The Lighthouse | A Gay Pokemon Adventure

[lichhen]

We’ll Meet At The Lighthouse | A Gay Pokemon Adventure​

a story of dark love and cepheid stars
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Spoiler: excerpt

excerpt

"I know, damnit. I know." Bill rubbed his forehead, turning to walk into his room. "That's why I'm letting you get away with this." He balled his hands into fists. "You involved a child."


Surge's arm suddenly blocked the doorway, skin brushing Bill’s nose. Fire filled Bill, eyes whipping up to Surge’s shining pupils. Surge’s black skin was flushed with blushing twilight.


His voice sounded like it was bursting through dead loam, deep and clawing its way out. "We involved ourselves when the child would have died." Surge lowered his arm and jerked his head toward the open doorway. A shaft of light passed over his face. "Now go enjoy your penthouse. And don't play the hostage card. That’s too much, even for you."


Feeling plunged from Bill’s face. “What?”


Even for you. Did Surge know something about Bill that he didn’t?


“Okay, what gives you the right? What have I done wrong? Other than… live an average life? Invent the Pokemon Communication System? I… I’ve never… kidnapped someone at least,” Bill’s words were building up behind his hot face.


Heat vanished between them as Surge pulled away, turning quickly. "This is a well-needed vacation for you, Sonezaki." He was walking back down the hall, leaving Bill in a wide open doorway.

the light is where not to go.
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status: chapter 3 of 6 (possibly more)
next update: currently on hiatus as i edit for consistency and some other things i find to be important <3 xoxoxo

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Spoiler: drawings and references

Spoiler: about the author

lichhen, he/they/ze
holaaa! i've always struggled with finishing things. this lil fanfiction is my latest attempt to finish something. that is one reason why kind critique is appreciated over critical analysis this time around; the main goal is to finish, not to create an exceptionally good story or anything. however, i love working on my writing and am very curious to learn through outside perspectives. i am astounded at the community on this forum and the writing feedback that members actively cultivate here.

this story is fully written, but going through some heavy editing. it is currently at six chapters, but i prefer short chapters for ease of bookmarking, and i have been adding in some fun descriptions that i believe are necessary to convey this story. although i am also cutting a lot out, as brevity is one of my favorite things in writing `u`

the plan is to publish one chapter each week. thanks yall!​

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Spoiler: summary & info

summary

Bill Sonezaki, of pokemon philosophy and Pokemon Communication System (PCS) fame, and gym trainer Lieutenant Surge were involved in the creation of Mewtwo - and Mewtwo had more than just one explosive incident during development.


Bill x Surge
based loosely on Bill and Surge’s (very few) interactions in the Pokemon Special manga


characters
Bill, Lt. Surge, Magnemite, Rotom, Electabuzz, Sabrina, Koga, Dr. Fuji, Gastly, Mewtwo

additional tags (more to be added as appropriate)
au, utopian speculative fiction, characters have been altered in many ways, for example many characters use wheelchairs and it’s not always stated immediately, and other character traits, challenge assumptions or whatever, this is 300 years into the future so identity and expression is gonna be different, there is a happy ending, astronomy, heavy astronomy references that i try to explain enough to make sense, futuristic setting inspired by the pokemon world, the setting’s history draws from “real world” history, pokemon worldbuilding, pokemon lore, realistic pokemon, gender expansive characters, disabled characters, slow burn, dwarfism, nonverbal characters, wheelchair users, part-time wheelchair users, ambulatory wheelchair users, fat characters, trans characters, autism, autistic characters

content rating
realistic violence. pokemon and humans can hurt each other more seriously than in canon. mature language. there is discussion of trauma, mental illness, abuse, discrimination. sex: there is some kissing and fully-clothed touching but nothing else sexual.​

Spoiler: cool resources that inspire this story

what is accessibility?

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zsMo7SOuB1c


what is an ambulatory wheelchair user?

View: https://youtu.be/C-EG8keyKKs


what autism acceptance means to me... (discusses the importance of communication methods that do not include verbal speech)

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3n-jfxF-Juw



life with dwarfism

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T6h_2JaE6Tg

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Spoiler: chapter one

chapter one​

summary
It’s morning for Bill and the pokemon who live at the Sea Cottage. Surge is there to meet him.
​

Spoiler: additional content tags

additional tags: heavy worldbuilding chapter, slow start but it becomes eventful
brief description of unreality and hallucinations in the beginning
kidnapping​

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A Cepheid Variable​

Drops of water swelled, black, and filled the coffee pot. Bill touched the tips of his fingers to his bright reflection on the filling glass.

He thought he could hear the sounds of light twinkling off the inky water. Voices trying to reach out from behind a wall of white noise.

"......delays in both lanes on C-95, with one lane allowing movement through Nyugen Bridge. Experience the new Silphla HM Cruise, Silph's compact car and travel spa, with better gas mileage than the Flare HM-V3. Activist Kasumi Sami from Cerulean talks about why the Route 27 Act is important for anyone using public roads.The talk is one of many that Sami and other activists are having in response to the increasing number of incidents in…….."

It was the old-fashioned meowth and staryu clock radio he inherited from his mother, given a place of honor on the stone kitchen counter and framed by leaves from the bordering watercress.

A low yowl summoned Bill to look down.

"Happy dawn, darlin’,” Bill yawned in reply to the fat eevee at his feet. “Oh. Is that today's stick? What a hottie.” He leaned an elbow on the counter, jutting his hip out and crossing his legs. “I like the dead leaves on it."

Eevee padded away with a tree branch in their mouth three times their size, swooping it around.

The kitchen, like the rest of the cottage, was kept relatively clear of anything Eevee could knock into. The branch scraped all over Bill's power chair, which was currently extended into a standing position and stored against the kitchen wall by a wide, potted Honeycalm tree.

Crumbling leaves and tree shavings joined the dust and fur on the wood floor. Eevee clambered onto a high table by the window and hauled the wobbling branch to stick up from a rocky urn. The brown critter yipped and settled down by the fountain on the table, where water fell in a stream from a spicket bordered by pots of wild grasses and stones.

Leaning with his back on the counter, Bill picked up a rotom mobile device and scrolled through the headlines. "Vermillion's still recovering from the hurricane? And it's been a hot minute…"

A dwebble pushed their head into Bill’s side.

"Y’know a bunch of us came to the Cottage from the crowded streets of Vermillion," Bill stroked Dwebble's shell. "The people there… were a lot kinder than I reckoned, even though all the buildings are stacked on each other like pancakes.”

On the Rotom screen popped Bill's messages, to which he hadn't responded in:

"...Has it really been two years? Aha-ha-har!” Bill laughed awkwardly. "Eh, that's fine." He swiped Rotom's screen back to the news.

"Nothing particularly cheery going on these days…" Bill rolled his eyes. He clicked the screen off, staring into a black reflection. "Oh, Rotom. What’s a girl to do? Is there a better option than… gloomy headlines? I want to know what you think…”

“Yarp!”

Among the large rocks decorating the kitchen counters and backsplash, another dwebble unfolded in a palmful of tiny red fingers.

Rotom was their usual quiet. Bill spoke to the dwebble while he waited for the coffee to finish, although dwebble, like most pokemon, did not communicate like humans and would not show a reponse in a way a human could easily interpret.

“You been out watching the stars tonight? Spot our familiar cepheid flickers?”

Dwebble shuffled along. The radio emanated as Bill poured coffee into his #1 BABY BOSS mug.

"...scandal of the year. Dr. Oyèrónkẹ́ Fuji, former Director of the National Institute of Genetics, has not been heard from for four months now after the Institute’s break-in and the doctor’s home was found abandoned, robbed and vandalized…' 'Well, the doctor did have reasons to disappear.' 'You mean they had enemies.' 'I mean, you don't become one of the greatest medical doctors in the world without someone deciding to dislike you…'”

“What the fueco are we listening to..?” Bill took a sip of the coffee. It was black and scorching. It ran a trail of fire down his throat and sucked him all into one point of bursting matter; it reminded him of twilight with his grandparents and Abra and their mugs of almond cream coffee.

A window spanned almost the entire kitchen wall. Through it, the world was still fading black, a stroke of sky glowing with stars, aircraft, and satellites.

He gazed into the gray-purple night in the swirl of his coffee.

For as long as he could remember, he had been at the whim of an erratic drive to create, to ask, to climb. There were periods when the ravenous desire calmed, and many periods moreover where he could hardly get himself out of bed.

His grandparents got him through his childhood in Goldenrod, Johto. Whenever he went over, his grandmom and Kadabra would show him how to use the telescope to find cepheid variable stars, stars that flicker in a reliable pattern.

"You can use them to tell where you are in the universe, Billy. The time they flicker and the amount of brightness is directly relative to its distance and place in time. Look, Kadabra will show you." They would teach Bill the mathematical language of the stars, while folding a pile of clothes on Bill's bed.

His grammy, grandmom’s wife, would make battered vegetables with gooey centers, tomato steak with mayonnaise sandwiches, and all kinds of coffee with a latte machine and a cabinet full of syrups. Eevee would spare Bill the task of eating everything by himself. His grandparents’ walls were covered in cases and frames of Bill’s creations. Science projects, art projects, photos documenting his smallest accomplishments. Mostly things that haunted him with embarrassment.

When Bill moved to the Sea Cottage, in a hidden cove a three hour drive from the nearest gas station, he struggled much less with getting out of bed. The change occurred immediately after the move from where he used to live for school, deep in central Vermillion. Now, for the first time in his life since adulthood, he willingly got up to sustain and to create. To see the flickering stars at each twilight. He achieved career success, finally, after living hell in academics. He could find the cepheids even without a telescope, because no artificial light could obscure the Cottage. The sky opened to the unfiltered galaxy, its cloudy core always loud and clear.

Eevee wanted Bill to join them for a star-gazing walk; that was their usual intention when they crooned at him while taking a step or two towards the back porch door.

“Not now, honey,” he said as he shrugged on a jacket. "I'm working with Nidorino today. You can join me on my walk to her lighthouse, though, if you don't mind waiting and missing the light of a few cepheids. ‘Least you’ll still have the shadow, though, right darlin’?"

You’ll have the shadow. Bill could hear Eevee return the colloquialism they learned from Kadabra and Grandmom.

Eevee flicked their tail, picked up Dwebble, and disappeared through the front flap door.

"Thought so." Bill stepped into his power chair. He strapped himself in and lowered it into a seated position, grabbing a lid for his coffee.

Nothing made Bill happier than to settle down in his custom wheelchair and ease into his current project, often traveling the mountains and beaches that smothered the sea cottage to meet with pokemon who had answers and better questions.

Before he opened the back door to leave, he looked up. "Abra? You and the laptop ready to go?"

Silence.

“C’mon y’all,” Bill groaned, glancing around.

"Now why on Earth are the windows still closed?" He was surprised he hadn't noticed earlier. Some pokemon or other always opened the windows before sunrise. "Abra?"

He realized something was horribly wrong, but his eyelids were suddenly too heavy to open. He was asleep before he hit the ground.


​

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Bill woke up alone in his guest room. He found every door locked and every stashed pokeball gone.

His body was aching.

He had grown up in a neighborhood on the sandy beach hills of southern Goldenrod, where crime was spoken of only in reference to the newest action film. Even when he lived in Vermillion, he always felt far away from that world. Criminals only existed as some far-off, fictional entity.

He heard crashing and banging, the cottage shaking as he feared unknown invaders took it apart.

"Excuse me…" He whispered at the door. "Hello?"

No response.

"Hello?" He shouted. "HELLO? I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM! I AM ON MY PERIOD AND IT'S GERN TO GET EVERYWHERE! I HAVE TO USE THE BAAAAATH - ROOOOOO–"

Bill gasped, falling forward as the door jerked open.

He clenched his eyes shut, flung his arms out and awaited collision with the floor.

Instead, he fell into something soft. He opened his eyes to see he had fallen on top of one of the invaders. It was a human, fat boasting from their wide shoulders and waist beneath a buttoned uniform.

Bill started to launch himself off. In a split second, he was scooped up onto his feet and shoved back inside the room. The tall sentinel stayed close to Bill, herding him with their body. Bill bounced off them multiple times as he tried to get around.

"What - let me go!" The words burst out.

"Shhh! They think you're still knocked out from that hypnosis. You'll want it to stay that way."

Bill tried to still himself, tried to keep himself from screaming. His hands slapped over his mouth. His eyes crawled up a towering face.

"Y-you don't look so bad," Bill muttered, before shoving his sweaty hands between his teeth.

Solid black sunglasses sneered below a square forehead and a shock of bleached curls. A sharp beard darkened their brown jaw. Voice low, a golden glow crackled in their cheeks:

"Appearance really doesn't mean what you think it does."

Bill was staring up, locked into place, every bit of him shivering so hard that each limb was about to separate into their own celestial body.

The intruder stiffened. They placed their arms out around Bill, close but not touching. "Walk to the bed. I'll catch you if you fall."

Bill found himself lying down, though he did not remember how he got there. He was curled up with his grammy’s quilt pulled over him. He looked up to see the intruder leaning against the wall, their face turned away.

Bill barely moved. Animal claws were tearing and twisting through his stomach; moving made it worse.

He uttered, "Are you keeping me around because you need me for my passwords? Are you stealing my research but keeping me around to finish the job before you get rid of me?"

He asked like he was talking about the weather, though his heart was punching out of his chest.

Silence.

He said, "What happened to the pokemon outside? Are they alright?"

A sniff. "Yes. They either ran or were put to sleep, just like you."

"So they'll be waking up soon."

The floor shook, heavy boots stomping in and out of the house.

The other replied, "They won't be hurt."

Bill sat up, vision purpling. "You don't know that. Where are they? They're gern fight you. And you won’t have a darned choice but to hurt them. Don't tell me you won't while you're standing here with hay out your ears. Don’t act like you got any clue what your buddies will actually do in the - at the…." Bill was breathing hard, a lump eclipsing his throat.

The intruder marched across the room and grabbed the doorknob. "I will be back in a minute." The latch quietly eased shut.

Bill felt tears building behind his eyes like giant bricks threatening to topple out of his head. He had never been alone, not for so many years now. He wished Eevee was at least here, with him, so he could ascertain that they were going to be just fine.​

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chapter two

chapter three
​

[/SPOILER]

 

[Forestoak]

Hallo! I'm here for a catnip! :3
Just going to do a half comedy half actual review

Drops of light swelled black and fell from the coffee maker’s spout.

"Happy dawn, darlin’,” Bill yawned in reply to the fat eevee at his feet. “Oh. Is that today's stick? What a hottie.” He leaned an elbow on the counter, jutting his hip out and crossing his legs. “I like the dead leaves on it."

Evee : Hey, I committed
, shouldn't cha proud about that?

"...Has it really been two years? Aha-ha-har!” Bill laughed awkwardly. "Eh, that's fine." He swiped Rotom's screen back to the news.

:whatfuckle:

He realized something was horribly wrong, but his eyelids were suddenly too heavy to open. He was asleep before he hit the ground

Uh...that ain't good.
Gahh! Welp, okay, this story is waayyy too good now to make comedy...



Okay, first, I really like the fact that Bill was locked into his guest room, and I am all in for learning who this snorlax of a human is up to, but...uh, what does he mean by..."Appearance really doesn't mean what you think it does."? Very suspicious.

Trivial matters :
Favorite character : Evee's stick
Favorite moment : When Bill is listening to the radio, purely because he interrupted it with a train of thoughts.
Grammar error here : "Appearance really doesn't mean what you think it does. (this should be a ?)"

 

[lichhen]

Hallo! I'm here for a catnip! :3
Just going to do a half comedy half actual review

View attachment 6771

Evee : Hey, I committed
View attachment 6772, shouldn't cha proud about that?


:whatfuckle:
View attachment 6773

Uh...that ain't good.
Gahh! Welp, okay, this story is waayyy too good now to make comedy...



Okay, first, I really like the fact that Bill was locked into his guest room, and I am all in for learning who this snorlax of a human is up to, but...uh, what does he mean by..."Appearance really doesn't mean what you think it does."? Very suspicious.

Trivial matters :
Favorite character : Evee's stick
Favorite moment : When Bill is listening to the radio, purely because he interrupted it with a train of thoughts.
Grammar error here : "Appearance really doesn't mean what you think it does. (this should be a ?)"

thank you friend, just the light hearted type of review i needed, thank you so much for putting this together. you've also given me some valuable insight.

 

[lichhen]

chapter two summary

Bill’s new normal - willing or otherwise - is all about a lifeform that should not, by human law, be alive.​

Spoiler: Chapter 2

Spoiler: content contains:

explosions, bone injury, being kept hostage, fainting

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The Cepheid’s Shadow

Project Delta & "Lieutenant" Surge​

It was weeks later. Bill had not seen his cottage since the day they took him.

“Soooooo…" Bill's face sunk into his palm. "Some human criminals too big for their muscle bands decided that we’re just... rungs on their yardstick. Step on us to get to the next level. They think it's alright to just kidnap folks. And then force them to figure out their little math problems? Thinking they need me, like astronomers need a shadow, to find their precious little lights.”

Bill was thinking out loud to Magnemite, who was one of three magnemite that he met here, while trapped in a dark, endless building comprised of nightmarish, abandoned biology laboratories and offices.

The magnemite were assisting him while he was ‘away from home,’ along with several other chaperones.

He asked Magnemite to help him craft some sketches of the reason they were all there: a little collection of cells floating in a bright yellow tube. The yolk-like blob was called Subject Delta.

The sketches were not necessarily required research; after all, the facility was equipped with the most advanced machinery, documentation, and photography tools known to humankind, even while the torn remains of infographic posters and signage hung like a warning on the walls.

As Magnemite held a pencil for the first time between shaking magnets, Bill described Delta’s sloughed-off cells while gazing through a microscope.

But, if given the opportunity, Bill could rattle on endlessly. “You’re doing wonderfully, darling!” He pat Magnemite on the head, who angrily jerked their pencil away from the paper and started erasing. “You know, even though I never got very good at it, I always loved doodling those little graphics from the textbooks at school, you know, like the little diagrams of cells, and DNA, molecules...” He twirled one of his tight, glimmering black curls. “And then like the macro-scale things,” he said dreamily. “Things like, like, spectroscopic maps of super galaxy clusters and, like, early universe structures. You know?”

Magnemite’s eye was straining to follow the painstaking strokes of their pencil.

Bill sighed. “I was trying to imagine the… Unimaginable. Minute and colossal objects of the universe. Through their perspective, maybe.”

Magnemite’s magnets were unwieldy and large for the setting, but the pencil wobbled on, slowly casting lines.

Bill started proudly, “I certainly would never have worked on a human’s biogenetic research of pokemon voluntarily.” He suddenly felt rather disappointed, sulking over the microscope; “Hmm.”

Another voice announced itself from the other side of Subject Delta’s workbench. “Instead of hoping for the happiness of just your pokemon…”

Bill groaned, reciting in return: “‘Wish for the happiness of all pokemon.’”

He had a doctorate partner in this forbidden biotechnological endeavor.

It was the renowned Dr. Oyèrónkẹ́ Fuji.

Bill and most of the world knew about the doctor’s biotechnology research during the Pokerus-11 pandemic, serving as a primary consultant to several world champions and saving millions of lives. Before that, Dr. Fuji was already well enough famous for developing efficient methods of measuring wind and the destruction it creates, one of those measures being the Fuji Scale. They were also a prominent figure among many pokemon communities for their compassionate activism. Bill built upon much of their work when he was in school, and when he was developing the PCS.

Thick ribbons of smoke pushed around the lab, bleeding off in tendrils toward the walls. Fuji was a broad, tall silhouette against the smoke, two hovering moon eyes glinting. They rarely removed the rotom-possessed goggles from their twice-broken nose.

Bill receded from the syrupy smoke and adjusted his face mask. Smog gathered into three clumps, churning and glowing over the room. It was Gastly - three that liked to follow Fuji around - using all the compacted power and gasses of hundreds of corpses to curl up into a ball and hide in a corner for 23 hours a day.

He had not figured out if Fuji and the gastly were being forced into this project or if they were here of their own accord. They worked as if their lives depended on it.

Bill was not sure he could like the doctor by the most basic of qualifications; they were rude, a poor listener, and did not seem to care that no one was ever on their page. However, by the nature of their situation, the scientists shared conversation, and some of their own terrible secrets that shuffled to the surface.

Fuji walked around the workbench, approaching Bill and Magnemite. Behind Fuji, an electabuzz stood with their arms crossed at the end of the table. They were both in their Physical Containment level 3 - PC3 - equipment, which included the black lab gowns covering their bodies, gloves, and a full face mask. Fuji had long locs tied and wrapped on the top of their head. Electabuzz’s yellow antennae reached just past Bill’s 4-foot height. They always grumbled as they moved, electricity crumpling in waves between muscle. They escorted Bill, woke him up, watched him eat, and sometimes poked their nose around Bill's things in the suite or labs.

Fuji glanced back at Electabuzz. Then they sighed, addressing Bill. “Would you please change the radio to something… else?” They strained a smile.

“Why, sure, doctor.” Bill turned his power chair towards the computer monitor. He activated it by looking at a specific point and blinking twice. Then, he started navigating the screen menu using more eye movements and blinks. “What else can I do for you while I’m being HELD HERE AGAINST MY WILL?”

The laboratory fell silent except for the stream of news and the buzz of machines.

A few awkward seconds, and the radio shut off. It was replaced with bird sounds.

“Amaaaaazing, thank you,” chimed Fuji as they turned around and walked away with Electabuzz. “Oh,” they stopped. “Fletchling. Correct?”

Recordings of fletchling chirped over the speakers.

Bill replied, “...Yup.”

Although he acted annoyed by Fuji’s request, the birdsong was a lot easier on his head than the news. Bill had a headache from staring at the most obnoxiously bright light constantly. It came from the glass incubator he and Fuji built with the highest quality materials he’d ever seen outside of university. The incubator glowed with orange amniotic fluid. ‘Delta’ was still a tiny dark clump in a tube to the side.

​

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Figures of all sorts watched over Bill and Fuji as they worked, and escorted them through the airlocks, sterilization rooms, decontamination, and aching hallways to a steel-skeleton elevator that clawed and scraped up its hinges.

There was one human in particular who was always working at the central labs, doing any job that needed doing. The human from the beginning of this whole thing, who Bill met in his own room. They almost always kept on some kind of mask or dark lenses. They hardly spoke verbally or at all, and sometimes wore a black jacket with a small red bow embroidered on the back collar. They cycled through different colors of the same shirt they wore every day (black, gray, beige) with a black, white-lined lightning bolt on the sleeve. Bill called them “Thunder Bow” in his head.

Sometimes, Thunder Bow would be the guard to escort Bill back to the suite at the end of the night. Bill's reticent security guards would always lead him through an unnecessary amount of turns, to double doors that swung open once a magnemite unlocked the mechanism. Within was a repulsively lavish suite with its only windows out of reach and pointed towards the cloud-white sky.

In the laboratory, Bill was taking a break, playing Glameopets.com, one of the few websites accessible on the computer by Delta’s workbench. Beside him, Magnemite still played with their sketch.

Careful clicks of heel against tile brought Bill’s attention from the screen.

Thunder Bow slowly walked around the workbenches, toward the glowing incubator and Bill. Two magnemite flew to join the one that was drawing.

Coming behind them, Thunder ripped off a piece of paper and pen from Fuji’s desk. They scribbled something, dipped their head and punched the paper towards Bill.

Need immunoassays

Painful spasms throbbed reliably in Bill’s right shoulder, his lower spine, his knees, and calves. The usual chronic culprits, even before the abduction. “Again?”

Thunder’s expression was obscured by the PC4 helmet-mask (overdoing it). Even with their face covered, they seemed extremely bothered by Bill talking. They stepped closer to Bill, almost desperately gesturing towards the paper.

“What, is Fuji just… droppin’ assays off the roof to see which falls fastest?” Bill grumbled as they stood from the desk, their face inches away from Thunder’s wide legs. Stiffly, Thunder stood there as Bill spilled by like water, walking to a wide, glass safety cabinet. “I dunno why y’all want me overseeing biochemical development. My background is in communications and computer technology! I mean, come on now.”

As always, Thunder waited reluctantly while Bill filled the silence and angrily retrieved the disc of assays. Thunder Bow’s hands were alternating, holding their head in different ways as they endured Bill’s conversation.

“Maybe, if y’all could just tell me what I’m really slaking doing here, I could actually be of some real use!” Bill suddenly spun around to chuck the container at Thunder, who, accustomed to the behavior, caught the glass disc in Bill’s hand.

Bill’s brown face darkened as he blushed, feeling such vibrant heat behind his cheeks.

Then he yanked his hand back. Shoving his nose up at the security guard, he huffed. “You’re welcome!”

Thunder did not move, when Bill fully expected them to immediately distance themself. Instead, their faces hovered in the same breath of air, two masks stilling to observe in the dark.

Thunder’s hand rose between them and made a dismissive gesture in Yoruba Sign Language - YSL - as they turned:

“My pronouns are he/him. Just so you know.”

Then the human and two magnemite wandered away toward the back airlocks of the laboratory.

Slightly dazed, Bill felt his way back to his desk, by Subject Delta.

Magnemite was concentrating on their pencil-holding technique.

As they worked, Bill started muttering. “Why do you have me here? Doing biochemistry? Why me?”

He set his eye to the microscope, perceiving nothing. “It’s kinda weird, you know. I was doing biogenetic research before, for Nidorino.” He laughed suddenly. “Wow, I miss her… Heh.” He held the microscope tightly. His tears would grow if he gave them any room. “But, not like anyone could ever know about our research. All of the work was conducted within an abandoned lighthouse, believe it or not.”

Bill leaned up, blinking against the light air. He looked at Magnemite. Magnemite understood Bill, although the pokemon could not so simply communicate back. A special case among humans, Bill had worked actively and relentlessly on forming intimate connections with pokemon, and he was often able to interpret a pokemon’s intent.

Magnemite’s current intent was to finish the current sketch, round eye innocently fixed to their pencil work.

Bill turned to the incubator and the little tube. Here now was the reason he was brought here: what he was told was the premature cells of an unborn pokemon, called Subject Delta.

The first time he woke up in the ridiculous, kidnapper-provided, penthouse suite, he was lost in a jacuzzi-sized bed, beneath a liquid-soft, black weighted blanket. He blearily opened his eyes, waking up from a dream that had him smiling oddly, last thing he could remember being that he was still in his own home.

This place... was far from his home. He could tell, because the night sky was so bright through the high windows. He could barely make out those little cepheid stars. Wherever he was being kept had to be close to the human cities.

“BUUUUUEEEENAS DIAZ! Hola! My friend, hello!”

Bill screamed upon hearing the disembodied, fast-talking voice, pulling the blankets up to his nose.

“Oh I am sorry! Are you okay there, fuse-wire? Now, I am just your room’s helpful little rotom assistant! Just your friendly live-in rotom. They call me Leftovers, kid, ‘cause you just can’t get rid of meeeeeeeEEEEEE!”

Bill looked around the room incredulously, seeing nothing but minimalist furnishings and black walls.

“Oh yeah sorry you can look at, uh, ‘me,’ if you like.”

Bill shrieked again as a shadow poured over him. He tumbled down the mattress to see that the gigantic mirror above the charcoal bed frame was now a looming Rotom screen, a twitching face in the center with a long, crooked mouth.

“There you go it’s my emotion-filled face! Okay, so, you’re gonna be helping us save this pretty rare, uh literally one-of-a-kind, pokemon that we found and uh, its egg broke prematurely because of complications with the little one inside. I mean like, REALLY really prematurely. Like the egg was literally just emerged and we found it and then it BROKE!”

Rotom’s features twisted like sand disturbed at the bottom of the ocean.

“Don’t worry, the little bit of life that was in there is still alive and well! BuUUUUUT. Well, no one in the world is equipped to ensure the pokemon’s survival after losing its egg! I mean, no one knows what this li’l lifeform needs, and will come forward with it at least. GUH GUH GUHGUHGUH!”

Rotom emitted a strange, violent laugh.

“The - the whole thing is rather silly, right?” Rotom chuckled. A pixel hand rose up the screen and tossed away a tear that had appeared on Rotom’s eye.

“But, well…” The searing blue eyes suddenly dropped. “Perhaps, with the stupendous Sonezaki…” Its face warped into a visual representation of the Pokemon Storage System. “...The human who revolutionized the utility of the pokeball even further than imagined. I mean, it’s like, you’ve already saved thousands if not millions of lives, right?”

Bill started to fill the moment of silence, but just as he opened his mouth, Rotom went on.

“Look, the project to save it is called Delta. The little bundle of cells we’ve been keeping alive is our subject. We call it Delta because, is ‘cause, uh - actually, not for any reason. The letter “delta” is the fourth letter in the Greek alphabet but that doesn’t have anything to do with ANYTHING GUH GUH GUHGUHHGUH!”

Bill flinched, somehow sending the blankets flying far from him.

“Well anyway, you know, Subject Delta is gonna need you in order to survive, Bill Sonezaki. They’ll die without you. With you on our side, at least this one-of-a-kind pokemon stands a chance at life. We just simply don’t know another wayyyyy… So you can understand why we had to acquire you in the manner that we did.”

Bill’s eyes were dry as raisins but he could not stop staring, gaping, at the giant rotom.

“Under…stand?” Bill shook his head. “No, no, I don’t understand.”

He glanced around at the impossible bedroom, with additional couches and cushions forming in waves towards the branching rooms. He could see the bathroom, multiple generously large basin sinks below a long stretch of mirror through which he could see a black stone hot tub and a wide shower stall with accessibility bar and waterproof pillow chair. There was a closed double-door closet on one wall. Then there was a hallway, where there were more sky windows and mirrors framed in orange-gold.

Bill looked down at the fluffy red blanket he was on. There were layers of warm blankets that felt like breathing animals, swathed around him like the burning halo of a black hole.

He felt so empty and tired. He muttered to himself, “Wishiwash-it, I just want to go back to sleep…”

The giant rotom face shook and lit up in response.

“Oh yeah! That’s fiiiiiine. Sleep all ya want! We’ll get to the vital, life-saving work tomorrow! After all, the life and death of another being is entirely UP TO YOOOOOU!” Rotom’s face circled and circled, morphing and blurring into something unrecognizable. The voice started to fade. “Do let me know if I can be of any assistaaaaaaaaaance!”

“Uh, wait!” Bill’s mouth hung open. He felt tears shaking on his eyelids. “W-what? Really? What…”

The smiling face blinked and interrupted with more loud and cryptic wording.

“Well, my guess is, we just don’t know yet! But try it out. Byeeeeeeee!”

Bill lay in the bed, frozen, for hours after that. Curled up in a ball. The blankets were strewn uselessly to the side. He just huddled there in the cold air. There was a sweet smell that stung the inside of Bill’s nostrils. Eventually it felt like the sugary freeze was eating the inside of his nose. He slowly moved the blanket over his face.

He tried to recall the words that Rotom said. He was going to be working on a science project to save a baby pokemon? The entire situation was surreal.

He tried to fall asleep for a while after that. When he finally poked his head from beneath the hot shred of blanket, he could not see anything. He sat up suddenly, eyes wrenched open, looking around in a panic, wondering why everything was dark.

Gradually, his pupils opened. And he took in the darkness. He sensed the windows overhead, and the night sky through it. There were the familiar constellations, and a smattering of reliable cepheid twinkles.

At the lab, Bill now stared at the murky incubator, and beside it, that little creature beating like a heart. Without the help of this place, the small life form apparently would not exist.

Was it right to just go along with all this, even if he had no choice? Or, if he had the choice to leave, now that he knew an innocent creature was trying to survive and would not succeed without him…

No. He should definitely leave, as soon as he got the chance. Not only for his own survival, but for those who would miss him if he were to never get out of this.

​

---

As Delta developed into more of a fetus-like thing, so too did the risk of hazard. The subject had destroyed its own egg, so the erratic behavior was not surprising.

On day 16 of incubation, the subject was experiencing significant distress. The laboratory was tottering around like it all stood on one foot. Sparks and wires shook loose from the ceilings, papers spilling off desks. Pressure alarms were screeching.

“F-1 acoustic waves are emitting from the incubator!” Bill grabbed a broom and started sweeping through the piles of papers and fallen supplies on the floor.

Fuji was hanging onto their desk, goggles scanning the monitor. “The waves are coming from the subject.” The doctor flung themself towards the workbench by the incubator, shuffling to keep balance amidst the quakes. “We need to do another blood draw. And make sure to do the full iron panel this time.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed as he grabbed onto the other side of the workbench and used his broom to block a wave of papers from splashing up the sides of the incubator. “I did do the full panel. Delta is a child and is stressed. We need to cover every comfort, it could even be early trauma and emotional distress.”

“Okay, yes–”

Bill continued, holding the broom close as he gazed at the incubator. “This is a crucial time for the child to shape their subconscious behavior, and we can be their training wheels!”

Fuji sighed. “Okay great, but with these readings, Delta could potentially bring down the whole place. I think we’re the ones who need training wheels, Sonezaki!”

Jittering vibrations burst from the incubator. The circuits and computers closest erupted immediately into bundles of flame. Now the fire siren joined the pressure alarms.

Bill was suddenly on the floor. He reached for a collection of cords and slammed the emergency call button.

Security was already charging in. “The whole building is shaking like a golem!” The usual human, Thunder Bow, and Electabuzz, wrapped up in their Physical Containment gear.

Bill was struggling to move, his leg was heavy –

“Oh, shit.”

Bill was staring at what was supposed to be his leg. However, it looked more like a noodle.

He clutched his chest, breath coming in shallow bursts between waves of nausea. He ripped off his mask in a desperate attempt for air. His eyes crawled over his leg like maggots in search of blood. He couldn’t feel what had happened. It was numb.

“Wormadamn-it!” Thunder’s rare, piercing voice, muffled by the mask. Bill was seized by the shoulders and propelled across the floor, slamming into a workbench. The floor shook violently as a cabinet fell and shattered where Bill had been.

Bill’s gaze scattered through the dust, desperately clinging to the moving shadows behind the veil. Feeling was coming back to his leg, and he began to realize something was drastically altered in the limb. Pain was surmounting quickly.

He heard Fuji’s laughter over the din.

"Heh. You came to save me? Thank you. But, I came here of my own free will. I am not leaving the subjects now.”

Thunder’s voice came in reply. “Tell me what I can do then!”

Bill’s body was tingling painfully, and each movement or touch amplified it. He was only falling further inside, nails breaking against cement. Something squeezed so tightly around his leg that his voice burst out against it.

Moonlight rose over the fog; a levity of easing pain - euphoria. He could sense that Fuji sat next to him. Something round and smooth vibrated against Bill's other side.

The human guard was towering over Bill. He signed in YSL:

“You move, Voltorb detonates.”

Thunder’s black jacket hung open, sharing a sliver of the human’s bare chest. Trails of ink poured over effervescent brown curves, an intricate tattoo, and Bill recognized the shape. It was the Vermillion state badge's elegant spokes shining over Thunder’s rolling skin. As if to confirm, an identical star-shaped cluster of burnt crystal twinkled from a chain around the human's neck.

Then Thunder plunged back into the smog with Electabuzz and Magnemite. They were packing up Delta and all their equipment into the emergency cases.

Fuji's three gastly were hurtling around them, herding the billowing chemical smog away. Fuji was dictating loudly what they needed to prioritize.

Bill felt stuck, incredulous that the world kept turning.

What Thunder Bow wore was a badge that was only obtainable through the Vermillion City Official Gym. You had to enroll and graduate from their training curriculum, typically a 5 to 10 year commitment. Trainers from the City Gym were support workers with helpers basically everywhere throughout a city, including maintaining nature areas and roads, providing communication and safety support for civilians like fire rescue, public transportation, education, and local commerce. A trainer with an official Vermillion City Gym badge was someone who knew how to be vitally helpful to the community.

An official gym trainer - a region-renowned communicator and environmentalist - was involved in something as vile as this?

Bill had lived on the steep mountainous coast of Vermillion City. The pokemon gyms were wonderful bastions of connection and communication involving humans and pokemon, just like in Goldenrod. The Vermillion City Gym was well known nationally, and the Vermillion City New University - Bill's school - was virtually the same entity. Their campuses through town were often beside each other. And this trainer in particular - he knew them! One of the top ranking trainers in the entire city, he was, by nature of the position, an effective activist. He was called the Lightning Delegate, the trainer who protected the messages of the land’s setting heart, timeless in the crystal on his chest:

Surge.

Bill was questioning everything he knew. He could at least be certain of the fact that the kidnapping was a horrible crime; that was inarguable. He never expected an official gym trainer to be involved with such an injustice as Subject Delta, never in his life. If corruption permeated even that which was so trusted among the public, a figure that conducted standards for the lives of pokemon and humanity alike - a role model to countless... What did that mean? Bill could not deny that he was one of hundreds who lined up for the book release of Surge’s first memoir. Had it all been lies?

A ball of gastly teeth flung upwards, so close that it scraped the skin off the tip of Bill’s nose. “AH!” he gasped as the teeth suddenly dissipated and Bill was scooped up by large, soft arms.

“We’re getting out of here,” muttered Surge, who slid Bill onto an electronic stretcher with a Magnemite deposited into a port on the control panel. The other ‘mite were balancing the packed emergency kits between them.

“Wait!” Fuji was being circled by their gastly. “The others!”

Magnemite started pulling Bill’s stretcher past the workbenches. The rest of the world began to fade. “Agh… wish-wash…” he cursed groggily, barely able to keep himself up.

The next moment they were an undulating blur plunging through collapsing halls.

Bill gasped toward the fading light.​

 

[lichhen]

chapter three summary​

Lieutenant Surge.

The thought that such a figure could be a part of this blatant crime… he had no thoughts.

Bill's anger had become lonely and ruthless, convulsing as he lay fetal on a different couch each night. Bitterness ate at him, but he was no stranger to the absence of peace. The thorough claim of larger things.

☆○●​

Spoiler: content contains

mature language, hostage situation, first degree burns

Spoiler: chapter three

○●☆
The Familiar Dark​

The operation was relocated. Somewhere farther from the cities, where the night was darker.

Project Delta was back on schedule. Except that now, Bill knew who the kidnapper really was, at least one of them. One of the best - if not the best - pokemon trainers in all of Vermillion. His name was on all kinds of plaques across town.

Lieutenant Surge.

The thought that such a figure could be a part of this blatant crime… he had no thoughts.

Bill's anger had become lonely and ruthless, convulsing as he lay fetal on a different couch each night. Bitterness ate at him, but he was no stranger to the absence of peace. The thorough claim of larger things.

Sweat poured from the ceiling vents in the new laboratory. The three magnemite were blushing dark gray, sleepily powering multiple fans. Fuji’s gastly seemed to have evaporated entirely in the heat. The lab had an incomplete pressure balancing system, and many of the workers and equipment were getting too hot; they had to keep stopping and unplugging everything.

Surge had taken on even more lab tasks, out of necessity due to the additional workload.

In Vermillion, he adopted the name Lieutenant Surge. 'Lieutenant' referenced how he would easily and quietly take direction from those he helped, rather than taking charge. He had a remarkable ability to communicate with large groups and accomplish the most extraordinary things - building up the city, managing the harbor, cultivating humans’ relationship with the land and its pokemon. He was on the top team of the Vermillion City Gym. He was known across the world for his philosophy. He was knowledgeable and competent at the lab duties, as were his pokemon companions.

Despite the help, the project was going extremely poorly. Delta was in an uncertain state, and everyone was running on steam from stress.

Surge was at a workbench, preparing a centrifuge for substance extraction. Soon after he flicked it on, the centrifuge wobbled and slid off the table. It screeched and shattered across the floor.

"AAHHGH!" Surge stumbled back. His right hand drew a stream of fire, then dropped liquid flame and splashed it everywhere. A burning string flashed and dissipated over Surge's fire-resistant lab coat. Surge distanced himself from the puddles of flames.

"Rrrrrarh!" Surge whipped his hand around. It was on fire, his face wrenched.

Two magnemite faded past Surge to circle the ignited puddles. A third levitating hunk of metal knocked into Surge's head; the magnemite went spinning after the others.

Surge growled, "Mite, are you KIDDING me right now? WHOAH–!"

Surge stumbled as his hand was suddenly yanked downward. He came whirling around to stand mask-to-mask with Bill, who was applying a wet towel to Surge's wrist.

The magnemite rotated their magnets around the fire, manipulating gravity to burn away the alcohol and siphon the heat out through the ceiling vents. The fire alarm gave a delayed wail.

Bill glared at Surge's injury, shouting over the sirens. "I keep saying, stop trying to multi-task. You’ll get us all killed!"

"I'm going to do whatever I can however fast I can. We don't have a choice here," Surge signed using his free hand and head gestures.

Bill closed Surge's fingers around the towel wrapped on his wrist. He shouted, "What were you even using the centrifuge for anyway?” to which Surge shook his head and pointed at his ear.

“Can’t hear you over the fire alarm, boss,” he signed, grinning ridiculously.

Bill glared, squeezing Surge’s wrist in one hand and signing back with the other in YSL. “WHY WERE YOU USING THE CENTRIFUGE? FOR FUN? I haven't gotten the samples from Delta yet!"

"Not everything I do here has to do with you," Surge yanked his hand back to sign.

Bill glared at him, then turned to look at the broken centrifuge. He pulled on a pair of gloves and grabbed a limb extender, starting to pick up the pieces.

Surge knelt down and knocked the extender away, moving to grab the broken machine.

Bill slapped Surge's hand with the extender. "Get your gross wrist away!"

Surge frowned and signed, “You get away.”

"Let me at least see if I can get your sample out–"

"NO!" Surge smacked the centrifuge out of Bill's reach, and it went spinning into even more pieces across the floor.

The magnemite suddenly stopped and turned their three eyes in eerie unison. The voltorb on the other side of the lab became still. The siren continued.

Bill blushed, confused and embarrassed. He dropped the extender, feeling steam pumping out of his ears as he stared at the floor. His hands moved in passionate waves as he signed, "I want to get this done as quickly as possible, too. I – ugh!" He seized up, fists clenched. He took a breath and looked into the eyes of Surge’s goggles. "If you're gonna clean up this mess all on your own, you better be that much farther ahead with today’s tasks. And you better be ready for my sample." Somehow, he guided himself back to the desk by Delta.

Surge was picking up pieces of the centrifuge, snarling at the floor. "I'm ready for the sample now, so fine. We've got plenty more machines for me to break. I've been ready for this, boss.”

---

The walk back to Bill's new room was agonizing. He wanted anything other than to be near Surge. He kept his arms crossed and looked everywhere but at him.

The new location where Bill was kept was even bigger than the last one. The only view he had of the outside was up at the sky, just as before, through which he saw large birds from the mountains, pidgeot and skarmory, and multiple crobat at night.

When they reached Bill's door, he glared at the wall. "Well? How are my family? You're supposed to give me regular updates, as part of this inhumane agreement."

"Last I heard from them was when you did. Like a week ago. We’re not exactly close to your hut." Surge crossed his arms after signing as he waited for his companion, Magnemite, to open the thick, bolted door.

"It’s not a hut," Bill glared. "It's a cottage made out of the finest Cerulean adobe. The pokemon there worked very hard to make the location hospitable for me. And I want to know how they're doing. And if you can't do that, you know that I will figure it out.” He mumbled, “Just send a wish-washin’ drone or something. I've been compliant with your requests. Are you really this incompetent? Even when I worked for the capitalists, Silph - even they showed more dignity."

The door churned open. Surge waved for Bill to enter and signed, "What? You think we just have endless resources growing alongside our orans?"

Bill raised his eyebrows, then started swaying towards the doorway. "We are working with the most advanced biotechnical equipment on Earth. And this is the second location that I've seen under your use. Obviously, whoever is running this has sickening access to millions of dollars, if not billions."

Surge jabbed a reply, Bill turning to listen. "You are the one who does not seem to care about what is at stake here."

"You know what, there's a lot I don't seem to get," Bill moved forward to stare inches away from Surge's strong nose, mask removed. "Because I'm literally being held here against my will to conduct highly controversial science," he gestured with piano fingers brushing against the guard. "That seems to be almost the exact reason, by the way, why DNA research on pokemon by humans was made internationally unlawful except under very specific conditions just sixty years ago."

Surge faced Bill rigidly, too close but both unwilling to move. "You know the Bio-Manipulation Act is flawed. Subject Delta would be scrambled eggs if we didn't–"

"I know, fuck. I know." Bill rubbed his forehead. He did not look back up, and turned to walk into his room. "That's why I'm letting you get away with this unethical wish-wash." He balled his hands into fists. "You involved a child."

Surge's arm suddenly blocked the doorway, skin brushing Bill’s nose. Fire filled Bill, eyes whipping up to Surge’s shining pupils. Surge’s black skin was flushed with blushing twilight.

His voice sounded like it was bursting through dead loam, deep and clawing its way out. "We involved ourselves when the child would have become fertilizer." Surge lowered his arm and jerked his head toward the open doorway. A shaft of light passed over his face. "Now go enjoy your penthouse. And don't play the hostage card. That’s too much, even for you."

Feeling plunged from Bill’s face. “What?”

Even for you. Did Surge know something about Bill that he didn’t?

“Now hold on there shock-stuff. What gives you the right? What has li’l ol’ me done wrong? Other than… live an average life? Invent the Pokemon Communication System? I… I’ve never… kidnapped someone at least,” Bill’s words were building up behind his hot face.

Heat vanished between them as Surge pulled away, turning quickly. "This is a well-needed vacation for you, Sonezaki.” He was walking back down the hall, leaving Bill in a wide open doorway.

Then Surge stopped. He looked towards Bill, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “This is the lab you've always dreamed of, isn’t it? And the science, unhindered by ethics…” He scratched his chin lightly. “You did do your dissertation in biotechnology, but since then... you’ve done everything you can to rebrand yourself as the Communications guy.”

Bill almost felt like he was going to faint. What Surge said was technically true, but…

“That was years ago,” Bill spoke carefully. “And I am not trying to hide from my past or something so Galar-farfetch’d as that. I just found… other things more helpful… to focus on.” His eyes wavered on Surge’s angular face. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Surge shrugged. “You’ve got everything money can buy, baby. Just like always.”

He couldn’t handle any more of these random accusations. "FUEC-OFF!" Bill cried, wheeling off as the door mechanism shut tight.

 

[IFBench]

Here to review chapter 1 of this for our review exchange!

Ooooh, seems like this is based on Pokemon Special! Very neat!

I'm...honestly a bit confused on the first sentence, though I've never used a coffee maker before, so.

Like the little reference to Team Flare in the advertisement.

Vee!

Awww, they're adorable!

Bill seems...eccentric, judging by that mug.

Loved the tidbit about Bill's past! It was very lovely, and I really like how vivid the description is!

...oh dear. This seems bad.

...this honestly seems like a very polite person for someone who broke into Bill's house and knocked him out.

I am very intrigued so far! Is this person Surge? I know Surge was with Team Rocket in the manga, so I'm very interested to see where this goes!

Thank you for writing this!

 

[System Error]

Okay since I'm here for the swap I may as well read.

C1
- The use of HM here in the whatever names is a bit confusing considering that abbrevation means something else in Pokemon
- Well it's instantly clear Bill is the wheelchair guy. And here I thought it'd be crippled war veteran Surge.
- Very dramatic coffee drinking description
- Bill has one hell of an accent that isn't in canon, but shrug.
- Pokemon opening windows?
- I...period? I'm sorry, what?
- The bronzed, chiseled hunk makes his appearance. I'm just going with bronzed instead of race changes.
- Some first meeting. Surge going full criminal here a la Adventures but hey he's a soft guy.

C2
- I normally mock lowercase Pokemon names but hey very noticeable when capitalization and not is used in the same sentence
- That is a lot of diawhatever things on the letters
- They pronouns here for Fuji, huh? Different!
- THE BOW MAN.
- Glameopets is an example of trying to force the Pokemon puns too much IMO. The BIll portmanteaus on the other hand, are quirky enough and clearly a speech thing.
- Neat little explanation about why Mewtwo turned out so messed up
- The GUHUGUHGUHGUGHH bit is confusing. Did he get interrupted or is that supposed to be laughter?
- Also random thoughts, Rotom is super obnoxious since it started getting used for fucking everything even when it'd make no sense. At least you're keeping true to canon, I guess. :P Like, why would it need to go in goggles?
- Also now that it's confirmed this is Mr. Fuji, one thing: he doesn't actually have glasses. Check his in-game sprite! Liberty you took, I guess, since stereotypical scientists. Or maybe other sources have him with eyewear?
- Neat backstory with Gym Trainer stuff. Rare to see those in fics since they tend to go full anime. I do it, can only think of one other off-hand.
- A ball of gastly teeth <- And this is why lowercasing Pokemon is confusing. Do you mean the Pokemon or the adjactive?

C3
- You'd think they'd invest in AC, but I guess not.
- Wow Surge is kind of a dick.
- "Don't play the kidnapping card" CONTENT WARNINGS: kidnapping
- Like, seriously? Basically going this is for your own good?
- Bill's past is revealed. But he's gone straight! Well, in that sense.
- And just rightfully flipping out at the guy.

Well, I have to be honest here. This is pretty far from what I was expecting and hoping for from a gay Pokemon adventure. It looks like it's heading towards some stockholmy stuff more than anything. With the chapters as short as they are and six planned, I don't think you're going to turn around BillXSurge in that time because all I'm getting from it so far is a bit of broken pedestaling and Surge being a guy who thinks he knows what's best to a borderline abusive degree. Hey, maybe you got crazy stuff planned later that'll turn this around, we'll see, but not good first impressions. Right now, I'm hoping Bill ends up with someone better. :P

But that aside, I do like the idea. Team Rocket is known to have a lot of scientists, but it's logical to assume not all of them are there by choice. So a bunch of kidnapping in order to complete their ill-fated project is pretty spooky. Interesting interpretation to make Bill wheelchair-bound, and even more interesting to make him and Surge black. Guess we'll see where this goes since I got halfway.

So the swap. My original intent was Project Delta, but we haven't really gotten a description of it yet. I could just draw baby Mewtwo, but that'd be shrug. To be honest, my initial idea was Surge carrying Bill out of an exploding building action hero style. But the ship isn't really landing and I'm not that great at drawing humans anyway. So with that, my abilities, and Smeargle Swapping in mind, I present to you my interpretation of one of the coolest and wackiest mental images I've gotten in a fic. I'm not a great artist by any stretch, and have limited tools, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

He may be a kidnapped scientist in a smoky room, but if a gaze could devour a soul better than his ghosts, his would. Lucky for Team Rocket he can't.