The air in Professor Oak's office at his Pallet Town lab was thick with tension.
Oak sucked in a deep breath, his hands gripping the desk, his excitement over Gladion's bombshell—knowledge of an undiscovered Pokemon-type and a new Eevee evolution.
'This child's come prepared. A new Pokemon type, I never imagined there would be a new Pokemon type that no one has discovered yet. He said that some Pokemon already have that type which means some Pokemon are wrongly classified. I would need that information to update the Pokedex. I don't want people to have the wrong information.' he thought, his mind racing as he looked at Galdion.
'Those eyes—stubborn as his grandfather Maren, who'd rather die than abandon his soldiers. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh. But I can't let this kid rob me blind.' He leaned back, his smile measured. "Alright, Gladion, let's set terms. What exactly are you offering for the Pokédex rights?"
Gladion's voice was cool, his psychic aura steady. "I want the manufacturing and selling rights for the Pokédex—all editions, all upgrades. In return, you get everything I know about the new Pokémon type: which current Pokémon have it, their moves, type advantages and disadvantages, and an Eevee evolved into this new type." Oak's eyebrow arched, his smirk rare and sharp.
"The Pokédex is my life's work, young Gladion—decades of research, worth billions of PokéDollars in future. Why should I trade that for some new Pokemon type? Eve if I refuse, you'll publish this type yourself, and I'll just wait for the information to come out. What I want is to study the new type and the knowledge," His tone was light, but his eyes glinted with challenge, testing Gladion's resolve.
Gladion's smirk widened, his psychic aura flaring with mischief. 'He thinks he's got me.'
"Publish? Oh, I've got a better idea, Professor. I'll take this to my other grandpa, Blaine. He'd pay a fortune for it. Or maybe Silph Co., Devon Corporation—they'd jump at exclusive new Pokemon type data. I'll add a clause: no public release for two decades, then they profit. Can you wait twenty years, Professor?" Oak's smile faltered, his aura spiking with frustration.
'Damn this brat,' he thought, his scientific thirst clawing at him. 'He knows I can't resist new knowledge. He's played me like a Poké Flute.' Gladion caught the shift in Professor Oak, his smirk turning predatory. 'Gotcha, old man.'
Oak sighed, rubbing his temple. "I need Pokédex sales for my future research. The money would fund my lab." Gladion leaned forward, his voice dripping with faux generosity.
"I'd never want to halt progress, Professor. The world needs your work. How about this: I sponsor your lab with a fixed annual sum—generous, mind you. In return, every research paper you publish carries my name and my company's." Oak's eyes narrowed, seeing through the act.
'He's framing this as charity for science, but he's building his empire. Clever little Meowth.'
"Very well," Oak countered, his voice firm. "But I want a 2% royalty on every Pokédex sale. Before you argue, kid, remember you'll need me for upgrades. I'll need… motivation." He flashed a sly grin, mirroring Gladion's.
Gladion's psychic aura buzzed, weighing the deal.
'2% isn't cheap, but I'll make billions. And his upgrades keep the Pokédex relevant.'
"Done," he said, extending a hand. Oak shook it, his grip firm. "I'll send contract papers," Gladion added. "Once signed, you'll get the Fairy-type research and the Eevee's Poké Ball." Oak leaned back, his smile softening.
"Can you at least tell me the type's name? I'm itching to write some poems about it." Gladion's smirk was pure mischief. "It's called Fairy-type." Oak's eyes lit up, his voice warm.
"Fairy? That's a fine name. Whimsical, powerful—perfect."
"Now," Oak said, clapping his hands, his excitement bubbling over, "let's see that Magmortar!" Gladion tossed a Poké Ball, releasing Arsenal, whose molten hide glowed, cannons steaming.
The office warmed instantly, the air shimmering with heat. Oak, eyes wide like a kid at a Poké Mart, rushed forward, forgetting caution. "Magnificent!" he exclaimed, reaching out to touch Arsenal's arm.
A sizzle rang out, and Oak yelped, yanking his hand back, his fingers red. "Yowch!" he cried, waving his hand like a flapping Pidgey. "Hotter than a Charizard's Flamethrower!"
Arsenal huffed, embarrassed, his cannons dimming, while Gladion laughed, his psychic aura sparking. "Professor, I said 'look,' not 'grill your hand!'"
Oak, chuckling through the pain, grabbed a Sitrus Berry from the tray, pressing it to his hand. "My fault, my fault! Got too excited. This Magmortar's a beast—look at those cannons!" Arsenal preened, puffing steam, while Oak circled him, muttering about muscle density and flame output.
An assistant rushed in with a Burn Heal spray, which Oak waved off, still grinning. "No need, I've had worse from my Charizard's tantrums!" Gladion shook his head, his smirk wry. 'This guy's a kid in an old man's body.' The assistant, flustered, tripped over a stray Poké Ball, sending it rolling into Arsenal's foot. The Magmortar snorted, nudging it back, nearly singeing the assistant's shoes. "Careful!" Gladion called, while Oak laughed, "My lab's a hazard zone today!"
After Professor Oak was done taking data from Arsenal, Gladion bid him goodbye while Oak kept pestering him to send the information of the new type as soon as possible.
--Author Notes------
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