Into the Unown (Pokemon Fanfiction OC)

Author's note:

Bonus chapter attached to Chapter 107. This was originally a much longer exclusive side story for my Patreon but I wasn't happy with the several drafts that I wrote. So I just gutted it and mixed in some main story elements to come up with this bonus chapter.

The side story will still happen, just that it'll take place post-Part Two and take on a more retrospective approach.

***

“Shadow! Purple Shadowww~” The man who called himself ‘Gold Fingers’ drawled. There was a certain slimy quality to the pock faced man’s voice that sent goosebumps down Hattori’s neck. Like someone had poured a whole bottle of baby oil down his ears.

“My friend! Congrats on paying off all that debt, musta found yerself quite the sugar mommy eh?” Gold Fingers laughed nervously as he backed himself into a corner of his office, cold sweat dripping down his temple whilst he cradled his bloodied hand that tried to reach for the alarm under his desk earlier.

“Can’t say I’m ain’t jealous…” The pimp continued, all the while his eyes fleeted from one corner to the next, trying desperately to find an avenue of escape. “Heya, didja know? I, err… I was the one who came up with the name Purple Shadow…” He stuttered, as the man in black who violently intruded upon his establishment loomed ever closer.

Outside of his office, Gold Fingers could only see a scene of bloody carnage, lightly obscured by a thin veil of purple smog. The poisonous gas felt like a living thing, a specter shadowing the menacing ronin, much like his moniker suggests. The man could have sworn he saw a sinister looking face cackling at him when he peered into its misty depths.

“‘Ol’ Fingies never misses’ they said…” Gold Finger rambled on mindlessly, but at some point, the desperation must have snapped his nerves as the man dropped onto his knees with a loud thud and looked up at his would-be executioner with pleading eyes.

“Hey man, whatever beef ya got with us, it’s all Villy, okay? He’s the boss man… We’re all just chumps trying ta make a living here…” He begged. “Ya get it, right? You were one of us! Has Ol’ Fingies ever done ya dirty? Remember that one time I footed yer bill over at Al’s clinic?” 

Gold Fingers continued talking, but Hattori showed no signs of mercy even as he stood over the snivelling coward, close enough to wrap his fingers around the pimp’s flabby neck and choke him out. Which was exactly what he did as he violently slammed the Croagunk-like man in a gaudy suit against the wall.

“Where’s Villy?” Hattori growled, menacingly, barely loosening his grip enough to allow his victim just enough air to speak.

Gold Fingers choked, trying, but failing, to let out a cough as he squeaked out a response. “I… I dunno. He squirtle’d right after ya took out his muscle…”

Evidently, Hattori was not pleased with the answer that he received, his iron grip once again tightening on his target’s windpipe.

“You and I both know that’s a load of Tauros poo, Fingers...” With a silent gesture, the purple gas trailing after Hattori coiled around his body and forcefully invaded every single one of Gold Finger’s orifices. 

“You’re like a wart on Villy’s ass.” Hattori continued. “Even if he didn’t tell you where he went, I don’t believe for a second that you don’t know the location of his hide-y holes.”

Meanwhile, Gold Fingers felt his heart palpitating as the poison invaded his veins — his skin burned and eyes throbbed, while blood began seeping out of his pores.

“That’s one of my personal recipes, by the way,” said the ronin. “Real nasty stuff, I reckon you have five hours of slow agonizing death ahead of you… Oh, but don’t worry. I used the instant stuff on your lackeys, most of them were probably all numb by the time I slit their throats. I only have so much of the good stuff available after all — gotta save it for my VIPs, y’know?”

Hattori wasn’t lying. Only he possessed the antidote for this particular concoction of his. But he might have been exaggerating its effects a little bit, the poison wasn’t guaranteed to be lethal since its intended purpose was to inflict maximum pain. But there was a good chance that someone as unhealthy as Gold Fingers would die of a heart attack before the effects wear off.

Gold Fingers was oblivious to all of this of course as he gazed frightfully upon Hattori like he was Giratina incarnate, before straining to lift a finger up to point at an unassuming little painting decorating one of the walls.

“What’s the passcode?” Hattori didn’t even need to check to know that it was a safe. It was always a safe.

“6… 69420…” Gold Fingers croaked, his fingernails digging into Hattori’s bracers as he struggled in vain to catch his breath.

With a swift kick, Hattori broke one of Gold Fingers’s knees before dropping him unceremoniously onto the floor with a pained cry and pathetic whimpers. 

Meanwhile, the ronin made his way over to the painting and ripped it off the wall to unveil a safe hidden underneath. Of course, he did his due diligence beforehand, making sure that nothing was booby trapped before touching the painting and unlocking the safe. Inside were a few Gold Nuggets, some stacks of cash, as well as a notebook and some document folders.

Hattori was uninterested in the riches, completely passing them over in favour of the paperwork he found. He flipped through them briefly to confirm their contents, most of which were lists of clients who frequented Gold Fingers’s brothel, as well as some blackmail material on a good number of the city’s bureaucratic authorities and politicians.

But more importantly, there was also information pertaining to Villy’s gang along with observations on the boss’s activities and a map of his hideouts contained within the notebook.

Satisfied with his findings, Hattori stored the documents in his backpack before returning to the incapacitated Gold Fingers and squatting down to meet the pimp’s tear-filled eyes with a cold and indifferent gaze.

“Any last words?” He asked.

“Please… I’ll do anything. Whatever ya want, ya can have — money, girls…” Gold Fingers gasped in realization. “Girls, this is about that girl ain’t it? The one you were all sweet on? Sweet enough to pay off her debt after she croaked.” The pimp’s eyes lit up with hope as he continued pleading at Hattori, probably thinking that he finally found a lifeline.

“Look man,” He continued. “If it’s girls ya want, we’ve got plenty. Even a batch of fresh merch coming in soon. I’m sure we can find something for—”

Hattori’s face twitched at the mention of “merch”, lashing out to choke at Gold Fingers, all the while watching intently as the pimp’s eyes bulged out from pressure and roll towards the back of his skull, until all semblance of life escaped the man’s grotesque body and the corpse fell limply onto the floor.

Hattori drew in a deep breath as he stood, feeling a little numb at all the death and destruction that he had just wrought on the place. He made sure to spare all of the innocent staff and victims of Gold Fingers’s operations, but some collateral was inevitable. 

The ronin chided himself for becoming sloppy and his loss of touch from lack of practice. “Can’t let yourself falter now, you fool…” He murmured to himself. “There’s still more to go, and the night ain’t over yet…” Hattori once again steeled his resolve as he broke one of the office’s windows and jumped out into the pouring rain.

***

“Well, well, well… Look what the Meowth dragged in? Are you here to get your ass kicked by Vicious Thunder again, you loser?”

Hattori scratched his chin in confusion at the person who suddenly showed up to bar his way. The one who was covered in tattoos, piercings, and overall, looking like a Miltank-human monstrosity that even a mother would struggle to love. “Right, this is that asshole from the other day — Villy’s new favorite of whatever… Did no one tell this guy that the match was rigged?” 

Hattori also noted the shiny red R that was pinned on Vicious Thunder’s jacket and frowned ever so slightly. It was no secret that the gangs of Vermilion City were all tied to Team Rocket in one way or another, but never had he seen anyone display their affiliation so openly before. 

The gangs each had their own pride after all. And while most of them were happy to maintain a working relationship with Giovanni, none of them were willing to submit themselves to his authority.

“I guess that old coot was right — something fishy is going on in Kanto’s underworld…” He mused, but Hattori’s thoughts were swiftly interrupted by Vicious Thunder expanding a Pokeball and pointing provocatively at him. 

“If you think showing up in cosplay is enough to give you an edge, then think again!” The apparent Rocket goon tossed out her Pokeball without even giving Hattori a chance to respond verbally, only to find that the red and white sphere was intercepted mid air by a net that Hattori threw out on instinct.

The net was a special tool that restrained a Pokeball and prevented it from opening. Even if the user had missed the timing, and the Pokeball was in the midst of opening, the net would still function to constrict the released Pokemon for some time in order for the user to follow up with other actions.

“Wha—” Vicious Thunder was flabbergasted at the sight, but before she could say anything, the ronin she was facing suddenly appeared right in front of her in a blur of motion and slammed a palm up her jaw, rattling her brain and completely discombobulating her.

The punk rocker felt a sharp pain in her mouth, and hot blood streaming down her throat from biting into her own tongue. But Hattori wasn’t done just yet, as he followed up his assault by slamming both his palms on Vicious Thunder’s ears to completely knock her out.

“Man, they’ll take in just about anybody these days, huh?” Hattori could have sworn that lowlives were a lot smarter back in his day. He briefly contemplated killing Vicious Thunder, who was crumpled in a heap before him, but ultimately decided not to.

This was the only blatant Team Rocket member among everyone he had taken down so far, and he thought it might be good to keep her around for interrogation. Provided Vicious Thunder didn’t die from her severed tongue first.

“Oh well, I’ll leave it up to fate I guess…” Hattori stepped over the incapacitated Rocket member with an indifferent look as he proceeded further into the building to find his ultimate target.

It took a couple of tries, but the ronin finally managed to pin down the safehouse that Villy was hiding in.

***

Hattori flicked his kunai against the shuko attached to his palm to light the cigarette between his fingers, taking a moment to breathe in the nostalgic smell before taking a drag, only to break out into an inevitable cough at the acrid smoke tickling at his lungs.

The black clad man ran a sleeve over his mouth and glared at the offensive stick of vice he was holding, unable to fathom how his sister found this suffocating experience to be enjoyable. But then again, when you were coerced into selling your body to disease riddled scumbags, any solace was a welcome one.

He was tempted to just fling the cigarette out the window, but decided against it. This was among the last few sticks of this particular brand of cigarettes that he had left from his sister. And while he did manage to scrounge up another pack from among Villy’s stash, he never did figure out where it was sourced from.

And speaking of Villy, the only thing that was left of the former gang boss was a sizzling heap on the floor. It took quite some time, but the acidic poison he doused the guy with had finally eaten through enough of his flesh to end him.

Looking at that grotesque puddle of flesh and bones, Hattori couldn’t help but feel a little melancholic. There was a gaping hole inside of him, feeling even more prominent than the day he had to bury the only family he’d ever known.

Hattori briefly entertained the idea of visiting the old orphanage where they spent a brief but blissful childhood, only to shake his head to dismiss that notion. There was nothing there for him. Even the cruel matron who had sold him to the Koga Clan and chased his sister out the moment she came of age had long since passed — not his doing, unfortunately. She died of a heart attack on her own.

For the longest time, Hattori was just mindlessly trudging along, bitterly doing the bidding of the people who drove his sister to her death, all so that he could clear her karma and finally be free to pursue his revenge. And yet, now that the deed was done, he couldn’t help but be disappointed.

Because at the end of the day, there was no catharsis to be found. Only a wretched fool steeped in blood.

Hattori sighed and lightly tossed out a Pokeball to reveal a Porygon2. “You know what to do.” He said, as the virtual Pokemon went to work scouring every inch of Villy’s safehouse to gather every scrap of data it could find. 

The Pokemon was on loan to him by his newest ‘benefactor’ for this exact purpose. Hattori didn’t mind, he owed the old man that much at least. And while the guy was dodgy as heck, he could still tell that there was nothing nefarious going on. Not that Hattori was the best judge of character.

While Porygon2 did its part, Hattori got to work manually searching the space as well, making sure to pore over any physical documents and items he could find.

He made a deliberate effort to overlook one of the corners of the room. It was hard to notice, but there was a secret panel over there that would likely open up to reveal a smaller hiding space built into the safe room. Even now, Hattori could still pick out the quiet sobs and muffled breathing of the occupants inside, using his keen, ninja trained hearing.

The wretched ronin did not mind that the two kids inside had likely witnessed the brutal murder of their father. And he had no intention of nipping their fear and hatred of him in the bud at this stage — they had every right to demand vindication from him. “I can only hope that they come looking for me when they’re actually ready, and not before…” 

“Are you done?” The Porygon2 nodded and returned itself into its Pokeball, while Hattori wrapped things up on his end as well and secured the documents he acquired into his backpack. One of which really caught his eyes — a shipping manifesto for the next round of ‘merch’ that was due to come in at some point in the following year.

“Now then, I wonder if I’ll be able to convince that old coot to lend me a hand in dealing with this?” Hattori mused, as he stepped out of the room, while willfully ignoring the sigh of relief he heard trailing from behind him.

***

Author's Note:

Some people have been a little put off by the change in tone in this most recent arc, just know that I always write with intention. So If you feel like the style shifted all of a sudden, it's usually done with a purpose, so have a little faith for now.

If I ever am unsure about a chapter or feeling a little lost, I'll write an author's note to gather feedback for a potential rewrite, just as I've always done in the past. Just note that the major plotpoints of Parts One and Two were decided since the beginning and this arc was one of them.

Part Three however, is a little murky at the moment. Though I have set a concrete end and some checkpoints I want to hit. Matter of fact, I've only written a single paragraph of Part Three so far. >.< Kind of suffering from a writer's slump at the moment. Good thing my backlog will last for another three months at least.

Anyways, next chapter will return to a more normal and casual pace.