Blazing Ambitions

Chapter Three

***

It all happened so fast. My arms were thrust behind my back and my wrists were bound with handcuffs.

"Wait!" I cried as I was pushed out of the alley. "I didn't do anything!"

As I entered the street, I noticed everyone was staring. There were whispers, and people were pointing. They cleared a path for the three cops and I, and I was roughly thrust into the back of one cop car. The cop who was obviously in charge got into the car, and through the windows, I saw the other two men get into another car.

The police car moved slowly through the streets. We drove with the other police car flowing directly behind us. The cars drove by the site of the Pokèmon Centre that had been destroyed. There were bodies being pulled out of the wreckage- dead, alive, or too injured to tell from a distance.

I gasped weakly as I saw a body completely covered with blood being pulled carefully from under a large pile of bricks. The body was deformed, and it was obviously dead--- but even under the blood, I could tell who it was. It was the little girl from the Pokèmon battle.

I whimpered weakly, and I felt sick. Quickly, I turned away, away from all of the destruction, the blood, the death. And now everyone thought it was my fault.

The car quickly turned down a deserted side road, and then sped up considerably. After just two short minutes, we arrived in front of a large, square brick building. The car pulled up and parked right in front of it. The door was quickly pulled open, and the officer thrust me out, and pushed me quickly across the lot and up the walkway lined with bushes and flowers.

He hastily flung open the two front doors and we entered into a waiting room.

It was a boring room, with grey walls, a grey ceiling and a grey carpet underfoot. There were some black metal chairs along the wall, and there was also a glass window opposite the door which had a desk behind it. Left of the window was a door, which was opened quickly by the cop, and I was shoved through.

We entered into a hallway with cement walls, floors, and ceiling. It had four or five doors on either side, and one at the end. I was beginning to wonder why I wasn't being surrounded by cops. I had never imagined being arrested would be like this. I imagined I would be completely surrounded by cops with a gun at my head, and I would be put in chains and tied to the back wall of some dark dungeon-like cell. It was all very strange, seeing as I had just been wrongly accused of killing a bunch of innocent kids.

We half-ran down the hallway, and I was pushed into the last door on the left.

The cop and I entered into another room. There was a desk with a computer and various papers cluttering it, and a tall, thin wiry man in a blue uniform sat behind it. On the other side of the room was a small empty cell in this room, which I assumed I would be going into.

But I wasn't. I was shoved past it towards another door on the other side of the room.

"Hey Bob what's the rush?" asked the man as he looked at the cop, and then at me.

"The media," he said in his low, rough voice. "I want nothing t'be seen. No pictures, no no information. No matter 'ow clear the evidence may be, we're not certain yet. I'm gonna interrogate 'er now, and then I'll decide what 'appens next."

The man nodded and returned to his papers. The door we were standing by was then opened by the officer, and I was shoved in.

We entered into a small, cramped, dusty room with a desk and a chair behind it, as well as a chair in front of it. I was sat down on the cold metal chair in front of the desk and I waited. It was a dark room- the only light there was was that that managed to creep through the closed blinds of the large glass first-story window to the left of the desk. The cop then locked the door, and sat down in his own seat, which I assumed was much more comfortable then mine.

He waited for about a second, and put on a pair of reading glasses. I stared at what was on his desk. Tons of papers and dust, and also a small sign that read a name.

Chief Robert Barrington, it read.

I need to remember that name, I thought, so I can loathe it my entire life.

"So, girl," Barrington said harshly, "You're gonna start by givin' me your name."

"Enya," I said. "Enya Green Blaise."

I decided then to answer truthfully. I usually lied when it came to getting myself out of touble, but I knew that this time lying would only worsen my situation.

"Alright," he said slowly. "Your parents names, now."

"Full names?" I asked. "First middle and last with my mothers maiden name?"

He shook his head. "I don't need their middle names."

"Okay," I said. "My mothers' name is Green Blaise, and her maiden name is Forrest."

Barrington scribbled it down quickly and then nodded. I continued. "And my father's name is Red Blaise."

Barrington didn't seem surprised at all, and that perplexed me. Usually, when I even mentioned my last name, people would say, open mouthed: "As in Red Blaise?!" But Barrington seemed not to notice. It could, however, had to do with his age. He was a little bit younger then my mother was, and he had an accent not at all similar to anyone of Johto, Kanto or Hoenn, so I guessed that he was not from here.

"Now, where do you live?"

"Pallet Town."

"No, girl, I mean where exactly?!"

"321 Wailmer Peak lane," I replied.

"Your home phone number, now," he inquired.

"555-8067," I said. "Do you need me to repeat it?" I was trying to be as polite as possible, but it hurt. While I wasn't acting like it, I actually wanted to leap out of my chair and beat his big nose in, but I knew that that would only get me into more trouble.

Barrington shook his head. "Okay, now tell me any other ways your parents can be contacted. Your mother, first."

"Alright," I said. "My mother can be contacted at the number 555-6666. She's the secretary at a Silph office in Viridian City."

"And your father?"

"Eh-" I began. I stopped. How was I to answer this one? I didn't even know how to contact him! Only my mother did. "I'm... not quite sure. I don't think you can, really, 'cause see, he's kind of-"

"Dead?" finished Barrington.

"No!" I exclaimed. I decided to lie this time. Telling the truth and saying that he was on some sort of government business wouldn't sound very convincing. "There was a divorce, see, and, he moved out of the country, and I really don't know where he is!"

Barrington scowled. "Okay, no need to get all hysterical on me."

"I wasn't being hysterical!" I shouted. "And you were prying into my business, anyway!"

"Girl, we're not prying into your business," he said. "We're getting information so that we can alert your parents of-"

"Of what?!" I exploded. "That you falsely accused me of killing seven people?! Look, my mother knows that I would never kill a bunch of innocent kids, even if they were just a bunch of Johto brats! Why would I anyway? It's just a waste of my time, and the bombs would be a complete waste of money! And what would motivate me? I'm not mentally ill! I wouldn't just come here for fun and decide to kill people! I-"

Barrington cut me off. "Than why were ya here?"

"To-" I said. I stopped. Why was I here? "Just to look around, I guess."

"Right," he said, obviously not believing a word of it. "And maybe stab a man along the way!"

"I didn't stab him!" I yelled.

"Really? Then who did? Was it a phantom? A Ghastly perhaps?"

"No!" I said. "He stabbed himself! He threw the bombs and I saw him do it, and I trued to stop him from throwing the second one, but he tried to stab me with his dagger, an I had him pinned to the wall, and he must have heard you coming, because he stabbed himself and dropped the knife in the ground in front of me so it would look like I did it!"

"Really?" the officer said. "And do you have any proof?"

I stopped. Did I? No. Wait- I did! I looked down. "He tore my shirt with his knife when he dove at me, see?"

He inspected the large rip in the cloth of my shirt. "Girl, anyone could of done this! You could have torn it yourself! Look, I want you to stop making excuses and start telling the truth!"

"I am telling the truth!" I shouted loudly.

"Shoutin' won't get ya anywhere."

I growled and took a breather. It seemed hopeless. All the evidence was against me, plus it was obvious he knew that I was from Kanto. My only hope was that my mother would come, and them maybe somebody would recognize her and realize that the daughter of Red and Green- two of the greatest trainers in the world- would never attack some innocent children.

Barrington stood up and walked over to the door, unlocking it. He swung it open and walked out to the younger man at the desk.

"I'm not getting' anything out of her as to why she did it, but she gave me her anem and the names of her parents."

There was a pause. "Sir," said the young man. "Don't you recognize her name? She's Enya Blaise! Daughter of the Red Blaise and Green Forrets! Two of the greatest trainers to walk the planet! I really don't see how-"

"Look, I don't care who the hell her parents are," Barrington interrupted.

"But you don't understand!" said the younger man. "You don't even know who these people are! How great they were! What they did for Johto and Kanto! Surely, you don't get it!"

"Look," Barrington said firmly. "I just want you to call these numbers and tell her mother to get down to this station. Right now. You don't need to explain why, just tell her it has to do with the well-being of her daughter."

I clenched my fists behind my back. If that wasn't a threat, I'd never heard one.

"Y-yessir," the younger man said.

I heard Barrington's steps nearing the room once again, but they stopped. "Oh, and one last thing."

"Yes?"

"Send White in. If I can't get it out of her, maybe someone her own age can."

"Yessir."

Barrington's heave steps began again, and I heard the door close and the lock click. He was back in the room.

I said nothing, but began to fidget in me seat. White. I knew that name. I new it well, like as in the name of someone I had known. I had heard it many times... but I could not remember where. It was a name from my childhood- my very early years, maybe from when I was five or six. It could have been the name of a kindergarten classmate, or an old neighbor from Viridian, or something like that. I didn't quite know for sure, and it was bugging me. White... nothing came.

Barrington wasn't saying anything. He stood by his desk and was shuffling through papers as my mind wandered, wondering what was going to happen next, wondering what my mother would be thinking as soon as she received that threatening phone call Barrington had requested.

A minute later, he walked towards the door. "Okay, girl," he said. "If you won't talk to me, I'd assume you'd talk to someone your own age, right?"

"I already told the truth to you," I replied firmly. "It's just you won't believe me. And talking to some kid my age just as slow as you will not make me lie and say I killed anyone, because I didn't."

He sighed. "Well, I'm bringing him in, anyway. I hope he'll make you tell the truth..."

His voice trailed off as he opened the door once again. He walked out, but I never head it shut. I sat there staring blankly at the off-white wall; the only place I could look.

After about five minutes of waiting, I heard more footsteps, but these were soft, and a lot more clumsy, sounding alto less like that of a chubby police officer and more like a careless little kid.

The person neared the door and slowly creaked it open. He scowled and then closed the door and locked it.

He shuffled slowly towards Barrington's desk, and I could finally see him.

He was a teenage boy, about my age, maybe a little bit younger. He was too short to be older then me- about my height, which was strange. He had light blue eyes that may have sparkled, had he not been scowling. His hair was a jet black and spiky, (which contrasted his slightly pale white skin) and it partially covered one of his eyes. He was wearing a light grey hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his hands were in the pockets of his slightly baggy dark grey cargo pants.

He sat down in Barrington's chair and folded his arms. "Alright," he said. "Spill it."

"Spill what?" I asked, slightly relieved. Quite unlike Barrington, this wimpy kid was not intimidating at all. As a matter of fact, he was just that- a wimp.

"You know," he said. "You story. The truth, about why your sick mind decided to kill those kids."

Strangely enough to me, his accent wasn't Johto, or Kanto. It seemed to be a slight mix of both, except a little bit heavier on the Johto side. I stared into his eyes for a fraction of a second, and then turned away. There was something familiar about those eyes. Something... I knew. "I didn't do it."

"Quit lying," he said. "Lying doesn't get you anywhere. Or are you just stupid, so you think so?"

I clenched my fists. This kid was a jerk.

"Well, kid-" he began. I cut him off.

"My name's not 'kid'," I interrupted. "And anyway, you have no right to call me kid, runt."

"Then what is it?"

I smirked. "You should have known to ask the man at the desk, hu? Knowing my name would give you a head- I don't know yours."

He rolled his eyes. "Alright, just tell me already."

"No way," I said stubbornly. "You can ask the man at the desk."

"But that would make me look like a moron, not being-"

"Oh don't worry, It'd be real tough to make you look any stupider," I said.

"What was that?!" he exclaimed, leaping to his feet.

"I said you already look like such a moron it would be hard for anything to make you look any dumber!"

His face was turning a shade of red. I didn't really care what kind of consequences this would have on me later. This kid was soft, and extremely stupid, too.

He clenched his fist and I saw his jaw clench. The look in his eyes switched from glazed to furious, but that didn't scare me.

"You wouldn't hit a girl," I said tauntingly.

"I-" he said. He lowered his fist. "I could but-"

"But what?" I smiled impishly. "You're afraid I'd pound your face in? I could, you know, even with my hands tied behind me. You don't look so tough."

His fist rose again and he stomped his foot. He looked about to explode, but I wasn't done.

"Come on now," I scolded. "Throwing a hissy fit won't get you anywhere."

He opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped. There was a loud thud. I thought nothing of it. The clumsy fat Barrington probably tripped over his own too feet upstairs, or something. I chuckled quietly at the thought.

The boy, however, did not notice. He lunged out from behind the desk and peeked through the blinds. He squinted and then sighed, and opened them completely.

I could see now, and what I saw startled me. There was a large building crumbling, and next to it, there was a gigantic fire. In the sky in the area a few large birds with riders circled the wreckage. My interrogator gasped. "Oh... my... God..."

"Well, you can't blame this one on me," I said. "I'm tied up right here. Told you I was innocent."

"..." he said nothing and just stared blankly out the window. "The rider on that Pidgeot... he just pointed to me."

"What?" I asked. "Why? Are they looking for you?"

"I dunno," he nervously biting his lip, quickly closing the blinds. "They're coming this way!"

Suddenly, they heard a loud bang coming from above them. I looked up and gasped. The ceiling above me was crumbling. I would have leapt out of the way that second, had I not been tied up. The boy quickly scurried over to me, pulled a key out of his pocket, and unlocked my handcuffs.

And just in time, too. I had just enough time to leap out of the way when a large chunk of the ceiling smashed on the seat where I had once been sitting.

I lay on the floor, trying to catch my breath. "We gotta get out of here," I panted.

"No duh," he said, lunging for the door. He scrambled to his feet and turned the handle of the doorway.

"Hurry!" I hissed. There were more part of the ceiling crumbling, and I was hearing more and more loud booms, thuds and screams. I was trying my hardest to stay calm, but it was difficult.

I watched in impatience as he fiddled with the handle.

"Unlock it!" I exclaimed.

"I did," he snapped. "But it's stuck!"

I scrambled to my feet and raced over to the door. "Let me," I said, fed up with his incompetence.

Gripping the doorknob, I began to fiddle with it- but I had no luck. However, being the persistent type, I didn't give up. I turned the handle clumsily, then banged on the door, then fiddled with the knob some more, and smashed the door again, continuously repeating the process.

"Stoppit!" the boy shouted shouted. "You're just going to jam it more!"

"I'm being a lot more effective then you were- I think I've almost got it!"

"No you're not," he said sharply. "You're just messing around, it won't help!"

"Just shut up!" I said, annoyed.

"Hey wait- take cover!" he exclaimed, pointing to the window.

"What?!" I shouted.

Then, I saw it. Through the blinds, I could see that there was a large bird outside diving right towards the window. I cried out with surprise, bracing myself. The bird was going to hit the window- and the glass would shatter. I closed my eyed tightly and clenched my fists. I was ready.

Swish. Crash. Thud. Boom. Slash.

There was aloud cry that sounded like it had come from a bird, and also a roar of victory.

I opened my eyes. The glass from the window lay in shattered pieced on the floor. Lying amongst the glass was the limp form of a Pidgeot, and standing over it was a Charizard like I had never seen before.

It was nearly twice the size of your average Charizard. Its head was basically the only normal part of its body, but its jaws were enormous. It was missing it's right arm- in the place of it was a large metallic arm. Both of its legs were missing also- and in their place were two robotic legs. The base of its tail was also metallic, and the flame was unnaturally large. Lastly, in the place of its wings was what appeared to be something not unlike a jetpack.

This creature looked so dangerous, but in it's eyes were a look of compassion and pride. I looked back at the Pidgeot. Covered in scratches from the glass, and burns from the Charizard. One of its wings was also horribly dislocated. I shuttered and turned away.

"Enya?" I heard a voice from seemingly nowhere say. "Izzat really you?"

"Hu?" I said. The voice sounded extremely familiar, but where I had heard it before, I didn't know where.

"Whu-Enya?" I heard the voice of my interrogator say. I looked down. He was sitting on the ground next to me, covered in scratches from the glass.

Wait a minute, I thought. Why wasn't I injured?

Then, it occurred to me. My interrogator- the one I had been so rude to- must have jumped in my way and stopped me from getting injured. But why?

"Who just said Enya?" he demanded.

"Not me," I answered.

"I did," said the voice. "'Twas me."

"Who's there?" I asked. And where was he?

"The Charizard?" the boy asked thickly.

"No!" exclaimed the unidentified voice. "Me! Ugh. Never mind. I guess you can't see me from where you're standing. Maybe it's better that way. Alright Chairzard, put 'em to sleep..."

"What?!" the boy and I exclaimed together. "You're gonna put us to sleep?!"

But he got no answer. The Charizard outstretched his arm and a small hole in his palm opened. Out poured some kind of sparkly spore.

"A sleep powder!" the boy exclaimed. "Kid, hold your breath!"

"No," I said, sitting down. "Let's just accept it and hope for the best."

He shook his head. "No way. I'm not gonna give in."

I sighed. "Whatever."

And then, I took a deep breath of the spore as a felt myself slowly drifting off out of consciousness.