Chapter 3 – Professor Westwood and the Craftsman

Professor Oak's Dragonite gave a great roar as they continue to ascend, and Carlin felt his stomach experience another nasty churn: they were rising through the air fast, his eyes watering slightly, hair whipped back off his face. So great was his discomfort that he almost called out to the dragon to let them back down again. By the time he looked over the edge of the creature's shoulder he could no longer tell where Cherrygrove City orphanage was amongst the grey cubes and green patches that peppered the ground below. Higher and higher they climbed into the sky –

And then, out of nowhere, out of nothing, they were surrounded. At least thirty bird-like monsters, with crests of pinkish-red feathers on their heads, brandish their razor-sharp talons threateningly, formed a vast circle in the midst of which Dragonite had risen, ready to strike –

Screeches erupting, a powerful gust of wind on every side: Drayden gave a yell and Dragonite rolled over. Carlin lost any sense of where they were: Buildings above him, squawks around him, he was clinging to the side of the dragon for dear life. His leg tangled to the straps of the harness as he struggled in the panic, and his weight starts to shift too much to the side –

"No – Carlin!"

Drayden was hysterical, but he managed to seize the strap caught in Carlin's leg as Dragonite swung the right way up again. A second's pause, and the dragon let out the most deafening roar it's two passengers ever heard.

Several bird-like creatures flew away in terror, but most of them still remained, and their attacks remain unrelenting.

Dragonite zoomed forward; Carlin glimpsed the birds which now seemed really large up-close, scattering as they blasted through their circle. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the mass of bird monsters regrouping, preparing to whip up another dangerous gust of wind.

"We can't shake them off!" cried Carlin, "Dragon, do something!"

As he looked back again, he saw four fast moving shadows drop from above them, nearly slicing off his left leg: Four of the bird creatures that flew faster than the rest had broken away from the circle and were pursuing them, two of which were exceptionally larger than the rest, their eyes fixated on Carlin. Dragonite swerved, but the birds were keeping up with them; more gusts of wind shot after them, and Carlin grasped the harness even tighter.

Out of nowhere, the clear skies turned cloudy and dark, nearly obscuring the sun, the sound of rumbling thunder followed, but there were no signs of rain. A huge bolt of lightning shot down from above Dragonite, nearly missing their pursuers, and then another, and another.

Dragonites' pair of antennae twitched erratically as countless lightning bolts rained down upon the large birds. Twisting his body, Carlin watched as they frantically attempt to avoid all of them. Three of the birds were dodging them all successfully, but the forth was not so lucky: A single bolt of lightning struck it squarely on the back and it dropped like a rock from the sheer intensity of the shock, its feathers aflame. One of the birds slowed up to save it, but the group of three were shortly blown asunder as Dragonite turned around to face them in the chaos and created a twister larger than any gust of wind blown by the birds so far.

More gust attacks rushed past Carlin's head from the remaining flock of birds, who were now catching up to them; they were aiming for Dragonite. The hulking dragon responded with more twisters generated by its mighty wings: horizontal cyclones collided in mid-air with a deafening clash, and Carlin thought wildly of banging cymbals, and the people below who would have no idea what was happening –

"Here we go again, Carlin, hold on!" yelled Drayden, and he guided Dragonites' head towards the gaining pursuers, now dangerously close behind them as he commanded to Dragonite: "Use Thunder again!" Numerous lightning bolts shot down from the skies once again, but the birds were ready for it. Not only did they swerve almost in synchronization to avoid every single one, but the larger bird which had slowed to save their presumably dead companion had caught up. It bloomed suddenly from below them and with a swift motion of its wings, created an exceptionally sharp blade of thin air and sliced Dragonites' leg wide open.

With an unmistakable bellowing roar, Dragonite shut its eyes in pain, and they began to lose altitude at a tremendous rate, though the hills below still seemed remote and far away. Rushes of air blades shot past them again. Carlin had no idea which way was up and which was down anymore: His arms aching from the tight grip over Dragonites' harness; he expected to die at any second. The largest bird from the flock was feet from him, he saw its beak begin to glow –

And then Carlin saw it. A strange humanoid creature that he had never seen before materialised from thin air and gripped the harness from behind Drayden with its three-clawed hands. Before anything else could happen, Carlin's vision went dark, and he felt nothing else.

"Drayden?"

Carlin struggled to raise himself from a prone position he somehow found himself in; his hands sank into inches of muddy water as he tried to stand. They were on solid ground now. He could not understand how he got there and where the birds had gone. Something hot and wet was trickling down his chin and from his forehead. He stumbled toward the great orange mass on the ground that was Dragonite.

"Dragonite? Drayden? Drayden, talk to me –"

But the orange mass did not stir. There was no sign of Drayden.

"Easy there boy, is it Carlin? Are you Carlin?"

Carlin did not recognize the man's voice. Then a voice shouted in his head that his ears did not hear, "They've crashed, Master Westwood! I did my best but they crashed!"

Carlin's head was swimming.

"Drayden," he repeated stupidly, and his knees buckled.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back on what felt like cushions, with a sudden pricking sensation of an injection being administered to his right arm. He suddenly no longer felt dizzy, but the pain on his forehead was still throbbing.

"Drayden?"

He opened his eyes and saw that he was lying on a stretcher bed in an unfamiliar, campfire-lit cave. A fair-haired, big nosed man was watching Carlin anxiously.

"Drayden and Dragonite's fine, son," said the man, "they're being seen to now. How are you feeling? Anything broken? I've fixed the cut on your forehead and checked for internal bleeding, but I'm not so good with broken bones. I'm Westwood, by the way, Westwood the fifth – a colleague of Samuel."

Carlin sat up too quickly: Lights popped in front of his eyes and he felt sick and giddy once more.

"The birds –"

"Easy now," said Westwood, placing a hand on Carlin's shoulder and pushing him back down to the rickety bed. "That was a nasty crash you just had. What happened anyway? You and that young man decided to have a battle in the air? That cut on Samuel's Dragonite didn't look like an accident."

"No," said Carlin, as his cut pulsed softly. "A flock of birds attacked, with two bigger than us – we were chased –"

"Pidgeots?" said Westwood sharply. "What d'you mean you were chased? I thought they didn't know you were out of the orphanage today, I thought –"

"They knew," said the voice in Carlin's head once more.

Westwood turned to face the creature that saved Carlin's group earlier and gave a look of concern. The creature looked up at the stalactites on the cave ceiling as through he could see through it to the sky above. Carlin squinted his eyes to have a closer look in the dimly lit cave at this mysterious magical creature who apparently could communicate with humans without speaking.

It had two large pointed ears on the top of its head, a red star on its forehead, and wide cheeks leading down to a thin snout. Its eyes are deep-set and narrow. Extending from its snout are two long, moustache-like tufts of fur. Its torso is segmented with bulky shoulders, a thick, brown chest, and a small abdomen marked by three red, wavy lines. Attached to the monster's abdomen is a large, thick tail encircled with a brown band near its base. Its arms are thin with brown elbows, and end in three-fingered hands with white claws. Its legs have prominent knees and large, three-toed feet, also ending in white claws. However, most peculiar of all, its holding a silver spoon on its right hand, pointing it to the ceiling like a magnifying glass.

"Well, I'm very grateful for your psychic senses to be so razor-sharp as to sense the danger they were in, despite them being hundreds of metres in the air," Westwood commended the creature, "they shouldn't find us in here after you simply teleported them." The creature didn't respond, or rather, Carlin wasn't sure if it did. Westwood smiled at Carlin's confused expression but did not explain.

Questions exploded inside Carlin's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first. He felt a stronger sense of curiosity coming to his thoughts than fear or worry. Somehow, this man and his creature did not seem to harbour any malicious intent. Though they seem to know who he is, the feeling wasn't mutual. Words were about to escape his lips to start a slew of queries when another stretcher bed next to the spoon-wielding monster creaked loudly and Drayden sat up on it, his face covered in dirt and blood, rubbing the back of his head slowly but miraculously alive.

"Carlin!"

Drayden rushed over to Carlin's side and pulled him into a hug. "I'm so sorry for your first flight to be such a disaster! If Miss Lime finds out, she'll kill me!"

"I'm glad you're alright, Drayden," Carlin replied, "for magical creatures to be so dangerous and wild, no wonder you guys keep Caroline and I locked up in that crampy old place all the time."

Drayden's face turned from an expression of relieve to worry. "That wasn't my intention at all," he said, glancing at Westwood nervously, "I did warn you about the loose straps, but even I didn't expect Pidgeottos and Pidgeots to attack us on the way there. We weren't even near any of their known nests locations."

"That would be because those monsters are not from the wild," said Westwood, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Pidgeots only fly at such high altitudes during migration seasons, but it is too early for that. They are territorial creatures, like any other wild animals, but they are not known to attack intruders with such killing intent."

"If you would be so kind as not to speak so cryptically to young master Carlin and young master Drayden, I would gladly provide exposition for them, Master Westwood" rang the spoon-wielding creature's voice in Carlin's head once again. Westwood opened his mouth again to answer, but fell silent after considering what he just said explained very little about the situation. Drayden then turned to face the creature for the first time. "I could never get used to hearing your voice with my mind and not my ears, Kadabra. Why don't you speak like a normal person? Or is your species name all you can say?"

The creature stared at Drayden blankly. "Always a pleasure to see you again, young master Drayden," echoed the voice.

"Well then Carlin, I suppose the reason you've decided to go to Celadon University is because you've made a decision?" Westwood interrupted, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"Decision on what?" asked Carlin, surprised that he wasn't doing the interrupting to ask questions.

Westwood turned to Drayden and gave him a mildly annoyed look, "you never told him?" Drayden shifted his weight on the bed uncomfortably at the question and did not answer him.

"Never told me what?" said Carlin eagerly.

"I'm not sure if Carlin's ready for what you and Professor Oak have prepared for him to do," mumbled Drayden reluctantly. "I understand your intentions but he's still just a boy, can't you wait till he's a little older?"

"Ah, but he's not just any ten-year-old. Not according to Professor Oak anyway." Westwood threw Carlin a sideways glace. "Carlin, how would you like to be – "

A deafening but very familiar roar echoed throughout the cave, cutting off Westwood mid-sentence. Professor Oak's Dragonite had awoke, a freshly wrapped bandage wrapped around its injured leg, its orange paws covering its eyes as it flails its legs and tail wildly in the air, creating mini seismic quakes with each time they hit the cave floor.

"I forgot that Samuel's Dragonite is claustrophobic!" Westwood shouted in-between the roars, shielding his head from bits of rocks falling from the ceiling, "Pocus! Get us out of here before he brings the whole Cerulean cave down on us!" Westwood's Kadabra raised its spoon above its head and its eyes glowed white. For a brief moment, Carlin felt a sense of weightlessness and the cave melted out of sight, just like the birds did before. Seconds later, Carlin's feet slammed onto hard ground and he fell onto his hands and knees at the entrance of another cave. He heard a scream and the sound of something splashing into what sounds like a large puddle of water. Blinking away the dust in his eyes, Carlin stood up, swaying slightly, and saw a familiar face of a man with a slightly receding hairline running up the steps by side of the obviously man-made cave as the rest of the group, who had also collapsed on landing, clambered frantically to their feet.

"Uncle Kurt!" Carlin exclaimed, relieved to finally feel a sense of familiarity at the sight of his slightly confused face. He ran over at once and gave Kurt a hug. "Well, if it isn't our friendly neighbourhood master craftsman," said Drayden between breaths, while trying not to look worn out, "I would have hoped to see you later than sooner, but I believe that Professor Westwood's intentions seem to have overwritten mine." Kurt's eyes darted to Professor Westwood at the mention of his name, anticipating an explanation for the abrupt visit.

Professor Westwood let out a heavy sigh. "Tell him, Pocus," he gestured to his Kadabra. The creature looked at Kurt and said nothing. Kurt began to nod as the creature remained motionless, indicating that some form of communication was happening just between the two. Carlin took a quick glance at Professor Oak's Dragonite, who was now licking the bandage at the entrance of the cave, it's huge body blocking the path. A small wave of guilt overcame him. He knows the avian attackers were targeting him but he didn't know why, and Dragonite got hurt defending him. He wondered if these magical creatures understood the concept of apologies when Drayden pulled him aside, away from prying ears just like that morning.

"I'm sorry that you had to find out this way Carlin," said Drayden apologetically. "I thought that at your age, you shouldn't have to experience the things that I went through."

"I'm not a kid anymore Drayden," insisted Carlin. "Just be straight with me, what is going on?"

Before Drayden opened his mouth to answer, a long drawn out wail erupted from behind Dragonite, inside the cave. "Oh! That's my Slowpoke!" cried Kurt as he tried to squeeze past Dragonite but failed. "He finally felt the surprise of your visit, Westwood. Excuse me!" he hastily shoved Dragonite's tail aside and disappeared into the cave, reappearing seconds later with a pink, dopey looking creature in his arms, now no longer wailing. "Uncle, Kurt," Carlin started, "I think it's time I get some answers. Why am I here instead of Celadon University?"

"Well, Pocus here has kindly told me of recent events in Cerulean Cave," said Kurt thoughtfully, his head gesturing to the Kadabra while stroking the pink creature's head. "Since Professor Oak has been generously providing me with funding for my life-long research into these magical creatures and I think I've made a major breakthrough, it's time I pay my long over-due debt to my old friend." Kurt turned to face Carlin, a serious but kind expression etched on his face. "Come inside, I'll tell you everything that you'll need to know."

Kurt's cottage was a small one. An old but sturdy looking desk stood in the corner of the single room building. Next to it lay piles and piles of notes and documents, all in the same messy hand-writing. In the centre of the room stood a short but wide table, with one kneeling cushion placed on each side. On the other side of the room stood one final table, a radio and a kettle was placed on it. However, the one, or rather, two things that caught Carlin's eye fairly quickly seemed unique about Kurt's cottage. Two large bins stood at the back of the room, both filled with strange looking fruits of different shape and sizes. Carlin remembers how Kurt's cottage looked over the many visits he had together with the other orphans to Kurt, but the bins were never there before. He was curious, but it wasn't the most pressing matter on his mind at the moment, so he sat down quietly next to the short table in the middle of the room, expecting answers.

"So, my dear boy Carlin," began Kurt, taking his seat next to Carlin. "What do you know about the great war?"

"I know the war went on for a long time and my parents died in it," replied Carlin, wondering where Kurt was coming from. "Professor Oak found me in the ruins of my house when I was a baby and Ms Lime took me in."

"So, nobody told you much about the war," Kurt sighed. "The circumstances behind it, and how it has led you to this very conversation with me." Carlin did not answer, and simply shook his head.

"For the longest time, humanity has been in numerous conflicts with what we know today as magical creatures," said Kurt, gesturing to Professor Westwood's Kadabra, who was now meditating in front of the single wide window in the cottage, its claws on its knees and its spoon drifting aimlessly around its ears, and to his Slowpoke, who was now lying belly up on the short table, staring blankly at the ceiling. "We fought over territories, food and other resources. Eventually, humanity appeared to have the upper hand, and we successfully domesticate some of the less dangerous species."

"Humans domesticate them? How?"

"From birth of course, it is the current best method to train a magical creature without risk of serious injury or death."

"Then why tame them when we have the means to destroy them?"

"Because the point of becoming the dominant species of the planet is to subjugate all other species and make them serve mankind, is it not?" whispered Kurt, "and what's the point of becoming the dominant species if there are no lesser species to do your bidding?"

Carlin did not know how to respond. He didn't expect Kurt to have such a morbid opinion on magical creatures.

"But I don't fully agree on this ideology," Kurt added hurriedly, sensing the slight distress on Carlin's face. "The primary drive of humans and these magical creatures are the same after all: To survive and multiply. It is to this end that the conflict began in the first place." Kurt's face then turned serious. "But humanity did not enjoy the peace for long. We began to separate ourselves into different groups by the different territories we had. Another conflict for all groups to try to take over all territories began. It was then that I realised that the fighting will never end if humanity continues to want more and more."

"So how did the war end?" Carlin asked, now curious.

"Be patient, Carlin, I'm getting to that." Kurt said, patting Carlin on the head. "The Kanto Government had a fail-safe plan to protect its citizens after the conflict between magical creatures and humans, in the event something similar happens again. They decided to train a number of young citizens and teach them significant amounts of useful skills to help rally and rescue any and all citizens of Kanto and bring them to safe locations if fighting ever breaks out again. Since they are supposed to be the last line of defence when all others have failed, like the police and the paramedics, if the situation calls for it, they are trained to fight back any and all aggressors as well Thus they are authorised to possess military grade weapons and communication devices. They are called sleeper agents."

"Are you one of these agents?"

"I was, yes, until I got too old to keep up," said Kurt. "Unfortunately, the citizens did not agree with the governments' efforts to keep them safe with this method. The government kept too many secrets from the citizens, and these agents held too much power with little to no accountability."

"Why were we not allowed to know about you agents? Does Ms Lime and the others know?"

"No, this is the first time I've told anyone about this," said Kurt, absent-mindedly scratching Slowpoke's belly. "The only ones who knew were Professor Westwood and Samuel. It was kept a secret because there were eyes and ears from the enemy everywhere during the war. A leak of the identities of the agents, much less the existence of such a force to the enemy puts everyone in grave danger." Kurt then continued, "and so to prevent an impending revolt, the government disavowed the agents and left them to their fate after the war, despite their monumental efforts to keep the citizens unharmed. Some even believed that it was because of them that the war ended at all."

Carlin stared at Kurt blankly. This felt too heavy for an eleven-year-old to handle. Kurt looked at Carlin and explained, "just see us as people who did our jobs but were fired anyway."

"Do you guys have codenames? Like in the movies?" asked Carlin.

"We did."

"What was your codename?"

"We operated in teams. My teams' designated alphabet was "R", for rocket."