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There was something absolutely maddening about finally being able to go on his journey, and yet having his path dictated by the whims of others.
He didn't even have enough time to truly enjoy his trek up the eastern part of Kanto, as he was on a busy schedule.
He was forced to spend only an hour playing with the colony of Seadra that he found on the southern part of the route.
Half an hour was all that he could allocate to helping that ranger find enough food to prevent a colony of Snorlax from going on a rampage.
All the battles he engaged in were one-on-one, and he even had to let a few very nice potential battles slip through his fingers.
That fisherman had sent out a Magikarp, Joey had beaten it and left before seeing if the next Pokemon might have been a Gyarados, which would have been perfect preparation for King.
So yeah, sue him, but he was salty.
Lavender, for its part, didn't necessarily cleanse his bad humour after he arrived a week after he'd left Fuschia behind.
The city was gloomy.
The sea was choppy.
It reeked of death.
Joey was all for curating beautiful graveyards in which the souls of the dead could find their rest, but having an entire town be centred around the concept was extremely bad feng shui.
Who'd ever heard of the biggest structure in a town being a fucking vertical graveyard for the whole region?
Was he maybe treating the place unfairly because he didn't have to be here? Most definitely. Was he going to stop? Also no.
Joey's first action upon arriving in Lavender, the gloomy, grey-purple shithole that it was, was to heal up his Pokemon at the Pokecenter.
The second was to visit the local dive bar.
"Hit me up, chief," the trainer said to the elderly bartender, looking at him with a confused look from behind the bar counter.
The old man with more memories of hair than actual hair looked around the dingy locale with confusion. The other regulars looked down at their beers and wines.
"How old are you, kid?" the bartender asked eventually.
"Old enough to kill," Joey growled menacingly and flashed his trainer license.
"You do know those things don't actually permit you to drink alcohol, right? Or kill anyone, for that matter."
Joey slammed his fist on the counter after having to jump up to sit on the barstool. "No taxation without representation," he said angrily.
A cloaked figure dressed like a discount detective sitting on one of the faraway tables loudly snorted.
"That's an entirely different issue," the bartender pointed out.
"..."
"Do you want some orange juice?"
"...Yes."
A glass of ice-cold 'range slid its way to Joey, who caught it in the palm of his hand and slammed it back in three big gulps. "Keep 'em coming," he demanded with narrowed eyes as he wiped the juice off his chin with the back of his sleeve and slammed a big bill on the counter.
Another glass quickly found its way in his palm as the bill disappeared.
Joey took a sip of his juice as he took on a brooding position on the stool.
A radio was playing soft country music in the background somewhere, and a small black and white tv mounted in the corner of the ceiling was replaying some old battles.
"What's new around these parts, chief?" he eventually asked after he'd settled himself into his position.
"Well, Cindy's Snubbull had a litter of eggs, you can pick one up if you want. Arceus knows who the father is, though, so you might just end up with a Magikarp for all I know," the bartender said as he tapped his chin with a finger.
Joey closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. "Any strange happenings, mysterious eventements?"
"My neighbour's son got into Polytechnic Saffron, which is a mystery considering I never saw the boy bring home anything higher than a C-," the old man muttered bitterly.
"That's hardly a mystery," Joey complained. "His parents likely just had some connections or made a donation. Occam's razor."
"Yeah, but it still grinds my gears," the old man complained before suddenly perking up. "Ah, actually, some people have been complaining about weird dreams recently. They all describe the same thing, however. The dreamer awakens in a landscape where all light is choked out by a black fog. You know how dreams are usually shorter than real time? Well, it seems inverted in this case, and some people say they've been wandering for years as they wake up. They remember every moment too…" He shook his head. "Crazy thing is, they sleepwalk in real life, sure scared the boogers out of me when I found my sleeping wife walking towards the bed with a knife in the middle of the night, I tell you."
Joey took a sip of his orange juice. "You couldn't have led with that?" he asked sceptically.
"It's probably just a group of ghosts playing a prank, you get used to it," the bartender said with a helpless shrug.
"When did this start?" Joey asked and counted back the number of months to the conference where Agatha had so rudely acquired his services. Five months now.
"Half a year ago I'd say," the bartender answered. "We all just started chaining ourselves to our beds as we sleep. No biggie. I still had the chains from the last incident, too, so I didn't even need to go to the store! Sure showed my wife that there's a point to keeping things rather than throwing them all the time."
"Women," Joey agreed with a nod.
The bartender didn't reply, seemingly frozen and staring at a spot over Joey's shoulder. Woodenly, mechanically, the old man walked out from behind the bar counter and joined the other patrons as they left the bar.
Left behind in the doorframe after they'd left was an unmistakable figure dressed in a purple dress and wielding a rather arcane-looking walking stick.
*Tock, tock, tock, the stick clanged on the wooden floor as Agatha entered the bar and slowly approached Joey.
"People like you are the reason why ghosts are super effective against ghosts. You know how much your call ruined my week?" Joey asked with a scowl, ignoring the multiple red eyes that were slowly popping open in the shadows thrown by chairs, tables and bottles.
"Cry me a river," Agatha said in a raspy voice as she took a seat next to the trainer.
Joey rolled his eyes and looked down at an untouched glass of orange juice. He quickly took a sip to coat the rim with his saliva. Agatha seemed like the type of woman to steal OJ from a kid.
"Enjoy your virgin screwdriver," the old lady cackled as a large Gengar materialised behind the bar counter, clad completely in the appropriate suit and tie. He promptly started skillfully combining different liqueurs inside a shaker.
Joey counted Absinthe, Chartreuse and Everclear with a splash of lime, lemon and blue curacao syrup.
Gengar shook the shaker over his head, flipped it in a series of impressive acrobatics before pouring the resulting turquoise mixture over his shoulder precisely into a coupe glass. Not a single drop spilled. Joey's eyebrow twitched. Who was this bitch aura farming for?
"You forgot the ice," Joey told the Gengar in a sarcastic voice.
"Gengar never forgets a step, or a face," Agatha said threateningly as the Gengar picked up the glass with an icy fist, which immediately caused the mixture to start cold-steaming and put it in front of its master while another ghostly hand dropped a single twig of rosemary and mint on top.
"No candied lemon?"
Agatha took a sip from her abomination of a cocktail, and it was likely only her special constitution that prevented her from dropping dead on the spot from the mixture.
"The best things in life are bitter; the earlier you learn that, the earlier you become truly free," the old woman told him.
"The only thing you're teaching is that you are what you drink. In your case, toxic," Joey retorted sharply.
Agatha gave a sigh. "You know, I do so enjoy our talks, but perhaps it's time to get to the meat of the matter."
Agatha was the type of person that if Joey said 'shoot', she'd likely pull out an actual gun, so he chose a different phrase. Not a better one, necessarily.
"Hit me," he grunted, before grunting again as the walking stick smacked him on the back of the head. "Ah fuck me!" he cursed, before freezing and throwing Agatha a suggestive wink.
"You're a bigger scoundrel than Oak," the old lady said in a low voice.
"I aim to inspire, but no, really, what's happening in this town. The bartender was blase as hell about it, but these time-dilated dreams people are having ain't normal."
Agatha said with a sigh. "We're lucky in this case that people from Lavender are more resilient to oddity than any other place in the region. Cohabitating with so many ghosts for hundreds of years does that to you, I imagine."
"Haven't seen any," Joey grunted.
"I thought the answer as to why is rather obvious," Agatha said with a roll of her eyes.
"I'm a ghost, so they're afraid of me," Joey reasoned.
Agatha slowly palmed her face theatrically. "It's daytime," she said with a sigh.
"Oh yeah, that makes more sense."
"You are by far the worst ghost I've ever heard of," Agatha eventually said.
"Ah," Joey replied with a grin. "But you have heard of me."
A frown made its way onto the old woman's face. "...Unfortunately."
"So what about the dreams? We're gonna have to sleep here to get transported into the other realm and then fight a great dark god from ages long past in their own reality to finally banish them to the afterlife?" Joey asked curiously.
Agatha blinked in surprise. "Actually, yes," she answered.
"Really?" Joey asked with a raised eyebrow.
Agatha's face turned into a scowl. "No," she said. "Now stop distracting me and actually listen for once." She glared at him. "Before I stitch your mouth shut."
Joey mimed closing his mouth.
"As you well know, ghost types are one of the few Pokemon unaffected by old age," Agatha began in a low voice. "They simply grow older infinitely, and as they do, they also become more powerful." She spread out her arms helplessly.
"You might be wondering at this point why ghost types don't rule the battling scene. After all, if a singular family could have their line continuously inherit a ghost that was growing eternally more powerful, they could rule the world."
Joey nodded and bid the Elite Four member to continue.
"This method rarely works, of course, because ghosts are sentiments given form through distortion. Ghosts are not memories, nor are they souls, but they are formed through impressions that were powerful enough to be felt in the world of distortion, which is what summons them into this world. The form that the sentiment takes determines its species. It's why a certain event might birth a Misdreavus and another a Gastly."
Joey listened in rapt attention. Ghosts were one of the most mysterious and dangerous types around, and it was rare to receive a personal lecture from one of the biggest experts currently unalive.
"A ghost's initial personality is initially linked to the sentiment that birthed them. The emotions that made them curious enough to take form in reality. Oak would laugh at me for admitting this, but the thing that changes a ghost Pokemon the most is love. It's the strongest emotion we know. Because ghosts are formless, they are easily changed. By bonding with the appropriate trainer, they change and drench their initial personality with love. Then, when the trainer inevitably dies of old age, a ghost's curiosity is usually sated, and they return to the distortion."
Joey finally sighed and said something. "I think I see where you're going with this. Under the logic of ghosts disappearing alongside their trainers in most cases, what happens when a ghost pursues strength, but never binds with anyone?"
Agatha nodded. "You catch on quicker than your face would imply," she said and continued while Joey self-consciously brought a finger up to his nose. "The issue isn't necessarily that a ghost that hasn't bonded with a trainer and thus disappeared after their death is evil by necessity. But the value system that the world was functioning under was a very different beast thousands of years ago."
"What, we're dealing with a relic from the age of the gods?" Joey asked curiously, referring to a time before humans had fully developed their ability to bond with the powerful creatures they shared the world with. Back then, any and every Pokemon had essentially been a minor deity in comparison to a human who had no Pokemon to protect themselves with.
"The tail end of it, at least, after all, they did manage to defeat the terror that once ruled Lavender Town, or whatever name it used to be known under back then."
Joey clapped a fist into his palm. "Can't kill a ghost though, can you?"
Agatha nodded slowly. "You can't indeed. You can seal it, though and hope it simply gives up at some point and returns to the distortion fully. Forgetting the memories it forged here and being reborn anew in the future as a hopefully more benign being."
"Since we're here having this conversation, I can only assume that this one didn't slip into the void as quietly as would have been most convenient for everybody else," Joey said with a sigh as he dragged a hand down his face. It tasted like orange juice… He'd spilled some earlier…
"The Black Fog was sealed away so long ago it is impossible to even tell how many years have passed. My guess? Around 3000 years."
"Bro's too pissed to die," Joey muttered.
Agatha frowned and nodded. "Bro's pissed indeed. The nightmares? They're simply a side-effect of its mere presence re-awakening. Once it fully escapes its seal, we'll be dealing with a Pokemon that transcends species. It will likely be as powerful as a legendary."
"What is it even?" Joey asked curiously.
"A Haunter," Agatha answered. "That's what the pictograms depict. Although he does seem to be the size of a truck, if the scale is intentional."
"Better hope it doesn't evolve…"
"It won't have the chance to, we'll re-seal it," Agatha said.
"Question is," Joey started. "Why'd you find me for this? I just got my seventh badge a week ago; I'm not going to be knocking down legendaries anytime soon. Where's the League?"
"The world is more dangerous than you think. You're simply living a curated experience of it," Agatha warned him. "The League is busy keeping things balanced out, and thus an expert is left to independently deal with any issues relating to their field. I've been kept busy with the matter of this ancient Haunter, while Bruno is currently trying to convince a horde of Steelix to stop invading Kanto's biggest sand mine. If those overgrown snakes get their teeth stuck in there and we're suddenly out of a critical resource necessary for the creation of Poke Balls."
"Alright, I get it, but still, you could have gotten a ranger."
Agatha shook her head. "The issue isn't the strength; the problem is that we need three channellers."
"Doesn't Lavender have a whole sect of chanellers?" Joey asked skeptically. "Those kimono-wearing weirdos."
Agatha scowled and shook her head. "Lavender would have a whole group of channellers if they hadn't abandoned the old ways. Those morons can't even perceive energy, let alone manipulate it."
Joey nodded. "And I guess Pokemon don't work because the seal was made to entrap a Pokemon. Too risky that a trio of ghosts would release the Black Fog as a joke if they had the ability."
"Exactly," Agatha agreed. "Ghost is the rarest type, even more than dragon. To my knowledge, we're the only two channellers in the region."
"Indigo or Kanto?" Joey asked. "Johto has a ghost-type gym, don't they?"
"The former gym leader died most recently in a cooking accident, something about garlic. The gym is barren until the inheritor can get himself up to snuff. Suffice to say, he's not there yet."
"Who's our third amigo then?" Joey asked curiously.
"Don't remind me," the Elite Four member muttered. "Had to go all the way to Hoenn to find her, and she's not quite there yet. I'm technically making her miss out on the Ever Grande conference, but people have stopped saying no to me many years ago."
Joey remained silent for a few seconds, wondering if he'd drop everything, even the conference, to go help out. The answer, when one considered that lives were potentially at stake, was obviously yes. "Tough luck," he said with a shrug.
"The conference is a performance. Oak would say that helping others is what being a trainer is truly about."
"Do you agree with him?" Joey asked curiously.
"No, he's an idiot," Agatha answered blithely.
"Alright," Joey said with a nod. "You know, you could have just asked for my help. I'd be horrified to learn that my inaction led to the release of an ancient horror on a town of sinfully ugly, if ultimately innocent, civilians. You didn't have to try to blackmail me."
"I know," Agatha said with a wise nod. "It was just funnier this way."
Joey could only laugh helplessly. "So, when is the last corner of our little triangle joining us?" he asked.
Agatha's eyes glazed over. "You're two days early. I guess you really hauled ass for this old lady. We'll stay at my estate as we wait. A League-assigned teleporter should be currently picking the girl up tomorrow and bringing her to Johto. After a stopover of one day to recover from the nausea, she'll join us."
"I'll just stay at the Pokecentre," Joey said casually. "No need to bust out the fine china for me."
Agatha gave him a confused look. "I don't remember asking."
"I don't remember giving a fuck," Joey shot back.
The Elite Four member shook her head. "Well, anyway, you still have a lot to learn, so you better come with me. The first task will be to find my house," she said, then fell into her own shadow and disappeared.
"Idiot," Joey commented after a minute of nothing happening. "Why would I come find you if I don't want to come with you?"
"Gengar," the bartending Pokemon answered while pointing at Joey, or rather, at Joey's pants.
Joey patted his pockets at the gesture and frowned when he found a smooth skin where there shouldn't be.
"Did she steal my pants?" he asked aloud as he gratefully found his boxers still attached.
"Geng, geng," the ghost Pokemon said with a sigh and a shrug.
"My wallet's in there, I'm calling the police," Joey decided, causing the Gengar to perk up in alarm, before pausing and laughing.
"Fuck," Joey realised. "She got my Pokenav too." He palmed his face and breathed in deeply a few times as a calming exercise. "Alright, alright, detective Joey is on the case," he eventually decided, before sighing. "Right after detective Joey puts on his second pair of pants."
He tried to take off his backpack before freezing as he realised that he wasn't wearing a backpack.
"Right after detective Joey finds a second pair of pants," he amended listlessly as he stared hopelessly at the ceiling.
The Gengar cackled one more time before disappearing too.
Right on time for the bar's previous patrons to return back inside along with the owner.
The next five minutes were spent trying to convince the clientele that no, Joey was not a pervert who'd confused everyone to leave so that he could jack off in peace and that no, he hadn't stolen anything.
A dishrag eventually covered his boxers like a toga, and Joey started his search.
-/-
It was late at night, at midnight, in fact, that Joey finally emerged through the absolutely ghost-riddled forest to the east of Lavender, onto a beach where he found a victorian style house just sitting there on the edge where forest turned to sand as if the structure wasn't of an architectural style that shouldn't even exist in this region.
"Gengar drew me the design; he's a talented architect. Said something about it coming from another world," Agatha suddenly said from behind Joey after he'd stopped to stare angrily at the small mansion.
"He's full of talent, that Gengar of yours," Joey commented acidly as he picked up the pants that had been left hanging on the wooden porch of the house and put them on. He checked his wallet and found a few more notes than he'd left in there. Agatha at least had the decency not to steal money from him.
"As they say, like trainer, like Pokemon," Agatha crowed happily and bid him to enter her abode. "Come in, come in, make yourself comfortable."
Once inside, Agatha led him into the kitchen where a hearty stew was already steaming away in a set of two bowls. A bunch of Pokemon food was also present, which prompted Joey to release his team.
"It's not poisoned, is it?" he asked suspiciously as he sat down at the table.
Agatha scoffed. "Do I seem like an old witch who poisons children?" she asked.
Joey threw her a blank look.
"Alright, fair, shut up," the hag muttered.
Before they could actually dig in, however, the front door of the house, which one could still see from the kitchen, burst open to reveal a distressed-looking Alakazam and a short, sun-kissed girl dressed in a blue sarong with floral patterns and a matching bra.
"Phoebe is in the building!" the girl shrieked loudly as the Alakazam rolled his eyes and disappeared in a flash of blue behind her.
"That stupid psychic said I couldn't do it, but who's laughing now! Two continents, one day, I am the best, the most resilient, the most-" Phoebe's tirade was suddenly cut off as her face grew green. She promptly bent over, hands on her knees and chucked up all over the floor, loudly.
Joey threw Agatha a sceptical look as he beheld their third teammate and got to see one of the sights that he'd cherish for the rest of his life.
The old woman looked at the same time horrified, dumbstruck, livid, and like she'd burst out laughing any minute now.
"Hear, hear," Joey said heartily while Phoebe finished upchucking the contents of her stomach. "The prodigal daughter returns!" he crowed with a laugh.
After hearing the encouraging words, Phoebe promptly righted herself up and started shadow boxing, a small trail of vomit running down her chin. "Exactly, land aho, we shall conquer the earth and the heavens and the heavens and the earth. Where's the bad guy? I'mma get 'em!"
Joey kept an eye on Agatha out of the corner of her eye so he caught the exact moment she looked up at the ceiling and started questioning her life choices.
All in all, he'd gotten a lot of weird looks while running around Saffron wrapped in a dishrag, the forest up till here had been full of ghosts trying to prank him, and the vomit did smell sort of bad. But maybe, maybe today had been a good day…
-/-
AN: Finish the arc faster on Patreon, or just wait patiently :P