Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ Carry On, Blissey ❯ Hacked Syndrome ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

I hated it when Spiritomb came into the room. It's not that he's an unpleasant pokémon to work with because sometimes what he says is rich in knowledge, but whenever I see him. He will talk about how long the patient has left. He was always right. I rarely get to see him as he works different shifts to me, but the rest of my colleagues have had the same experience. At least he didn't work in the baby and egg ward otherwise they'd all be scared for life by his jiggered green grin.

Hyperacidosis Cancerous Kinetic Excessive Deformity or simply known as the Hacked Syndrome, was a disorder that has been on the rise since the boom of drugs for pokémon. Spiritomb started at this clinic about the same time as I did and became the hospital's expert at this disease. His parents both had The Hacked Syndrome and are no longer with us.

And of course he was the only pokémon nurse, aside from myself who could speak to humans in their own language. The other pokémon either have to sign or use their body language. Pokémon could communicate to other pokémon fine without any language barriers, but especially in this profession communication was not always a strong point for everybody.

All the pokémon who worked in our community hospital had been trained to understand human emotion. It was more than just medicine. We were saving lives. It wasn't common that we had to treat humans, but we still needed to give first aid sessions when dealing with both pokémon and humans. It wasn't a known fact that we shared a close bond with humans and most of our patients had pokémon trainers with them.

Spiritomb and I walked into the room with Alita and Chikorita in. Alita curled her arms around Chikorita as they both had their eyes shut tight. Spirtomb floated above the pair and studied the monitors beeping steadily.

"This Chikorita is going to be just fine," Spiritomb announced.

"That's wonderful news," I said. "I was hoping that they would both leave the hospital by tomorrow. Although Nurse Joy says they need to be supervised at all times."

"It's not easy, is it?" Spiritomb croaked. "Children are very fast and have no sense of danger. Being autistic won't make things easier. That's why I think ten years is far too young to have a trainer's license."

"Yet the Pokémon Welfare Agency believes that ten is a suitable age to become a pokémon trainer," I sighed. "But I do agree with you, ten is quite young. And to think that that some trainers have their first egg three months after they start their journey."

"Those Day Care Centres must make a fortune," Spiritomb said. "But I don't like how most of them hand pokémon eggs like cotton candy. They might not know what the trainer is like?"

"I can see your point," I told him. "They remind me of Nurse Joy in some ways. Kind, but sometimes too kind. For me the best day care centres I've been to were in Solaceon Town, Agate Village, and Eggseter."

"Agate Village don't accept pokémon with Hacked Syndrome," Spiritomb responded. "I was at placement there when I was at Pokécommunity University. That was when I learned a lot about Hacked Syndrome. After the incident with shadow pokémon, they decided that they would no longer accept pokémon with Hacked Syndrome because they didn't want to encourage ill health."

"I see..." I nodded my head and took a brief look at my paper-board. I raised my hand and said, "There was a patient I wanted you to see."

"Who is this patient?"

"It's Mr. Fierce, he's a swellow facing life confined to a wheelchair," I replied. Since we've spoken about how the disorder is mainly caused by drugs, I thought the patient would have interested Spiritomb. Not only that but his expertise would have been most useful. "He's become addicted to Action Replay pills."

Spiritomb sniffed and boomed, "sounds like my kind of case!" There was distinct chime in his accent. With that, I led him into Mr. Fierce's bedroom. The bird leered into the ghost's eyes and screeched.

"What is this?" Mr. Fierce yelled. "Are we in the circus?"

"Mr. Fierce," I said as I stood in front of Spiritomb and held onto the side of Mr. Fierce's bed. "I'd like you to meet our nurse, Spiritomb. He is an expert in drug related cases and will be here to assist my diagnosis."

"What a lot of rubbish!" Mr. Fierce barked. "He's a nurse? He looks like a clown." Spiritomb was trying hard not to chuckle as I sighed. "Surely he's got some Action Replay pills?"

"As I've told you before Mr. Fierce, we cannot give you any."

"If I may?" Spiritomb asked. "I would like to have a check up on you for some diagnosis?"

"Suit yourself," Mr. Fierce muttered.

"Mr. Fierce, how long have you been taking Action Replay?" I asked. As Spiritomb investigated the swellow I walked to his left and spoke to the patient. I could at least try and make him feel at ease. Besides, the more we know about Mr. Fierce, the more we can do to treat him.

"Ever since I was a little Taillow." He looked into my eyes and crowed. "I've always had it since he caught me. He treated me like his best friend and spoilt me rotten. Although, I haven't seen him today. Not since he was told that I may be unable to battle again. Apparently when Nurse Joy asked him about the Action Replay pills, he did a runner."

Flipping coward, I thought to myself. Not only was this abuse, but also neglect. As I predicted, Mr. Fierce had been taking this for many years.

"Did you enjoy these battles?" Spiritomb asked.

"I did," he replied. "I got an enormous buzz from battles because I get to meet all sorts of creatures. Nurse Gardevoir says you guys will do whatever I can to get my life back to normal again." Mr. Fierce looked up to the sky and said, "... I can't wait to get out of here."

"You and your trainer must have travelled a lot. What was your favourite place?"

"I would love to back to Hoenn again," Mr. Fierce answered. "It's a wonderful place. Full of interesting environments and lovely people."

"That's the diagnosis finished," Spiritomb announced.

"That was quick!" Mr Fierce gasped. "Can I go home now?"

"I'm afraid it's just as Matron Blissey feared," Spiritomb announced. "Mr. Fierce, you have indeed have The Hacked Syndrome. Because of your condition, the drugs your trainer has given you for over the years has gradually weakened your immune system and as a result your injuries are severe to the point of permanent disability."

"So I won't be able to battle..."

"I'm afraid not."

"That's why my trainer abandoned me."

It was almost as if my heart was aching for him. That trainer, I could pound him one if I could. I patted on his wounded wing and said, "Your trainer may have left you, but we won't until we feel we are in a position to let you go."

"So what happens now?" Mr Fierce asked. "What about my trainer?"

"It will be up to Nurse Joy and Matron Blissey. We will try and contact Pokémon Professors and follow their advice."

"Were there bad eggs forming inside?" I asked.

"Yes," Spiritomb confirmed. "Lots of them. It will require lots of operations to ensure they don't hatch."

"I have eggs in me?" Mr. Fierce gasped again. His eyes dropped two tears as his head shuddered.

"They're tumours known as bad eggs," I replied. I gulped and sighed. "We need to carefully get these tumours out before they hatch. If the bad egg hatch, your whole body will freeze and you may die within ten minutes."

"Why is that?" Mr. Fierce asked.

"Bad eggs contain highly cancerous cells that will quickly spread," Spiritomb said.

"It must be easy for you," Mr. Fierce sobbed.

Poor thing... It's easy to assume that these things get easier as time goes by, but it dosen't. Telling someone that they're going to die is never going to be easy. Mr. Fierce was truly a strong pokémon who didn't need those drugs. It was just a shame he was with a poor trainer.

I wish we could operate on him now, but we're not allowed to operate on pokémon without permission from the trainer. I've got to seek advice from Nurse Joy and the Social Services... fast! I'm not going to let this pokémon die because of neglect and abuse.