Chapter Text
“Gather ‘round, gather ‘round!” A voice echoed across the crowded streets of Celadon City. “The greatest human magician you will ever witness! Though it’s definitely not because there’s no one besides me.”
A small crowd gathered around a table, leaving a circle parting, where a man stood dead centre, a grin falling on his face. He wore the classic street magician getup: A crisp white button-down beneath a sharp black vest, though he skipped the tacky top hat and white gloves. He needed his fingers free.
“Greetings to everyone here, my name is Ace, but you aren’t here for dull chatter.” He paused, his hand slipping into his pocket. “You’re here for MAGIC!”
Feeling the hardwood against his skin, Ace pulled out a wand–one comically bigger than his pocket. A small chuckle rumbled through the crowd as a larger wand just kept emerging from his pocket.
Ace’s brow furrowed, hiding a twinkle in his green eyes.
“Folks, it seems I packed too big a wand. I guess I’ll just have to settle for a card trick.”
He pulled his left arm across, using both arms to shove the wand back into his pocket and pulled out a deck of cards from the same one.
He turned and faced the crowd, a smirk settling on his face. “Any volunteers?”
No one spoke up.
His eyes scanned the sea of heads and picked out a man wearing a business suit.
“You! Please pick out a card, any card. Except for a business card. I know I’m charming and would wonderfully fit in a company, but there’s no need for that.”
Ace didn’t mind the small amounts of mocking laughter. The businessman drew a card, keeping it close to his chest.
Unbeknownst to him, Ace palmed his silver watch three seconds ago.
Hey, he’s gotta get money somehow. He provided two minutes of, in his opinion, world-class entertainment. The watch was simply his performance fee. Sure, he hadn't explicitly stated his prices, but if you stood in the splash zone, you were going to get wet.
Ace shuffled the deck. His hands were an absolute blur.
"Is this your card?" Ace asked, pulling the exact King of Diamonds from the businessman's breast pocket.
The crowd clapped. Ace took a dramatic bow.
From the shadows of an alleyway across the street, a pair of blue eyes watched him. A Zoroark lurked, its tail twitching in annoyance. It projected a Pidgey landing on Ace’s black hair, just to see if it could mess up his routine.
Ace didn't flinch. He just swatted his hand through the illusory bird, winking towards the alleyway. The Zoroark huffed, retreating deeper into the shadows.
His performance dragged on for a bit, his jokes occasionally crackling up the crowd, and his tricks earning Ooohs and Aaahs.
As it came to a close, Ace pocketed his tips and dispersed the crowd. He had already begun scanning the plaza for his next mark when he saw it.
A travelling merchant had set up a shoddy wooden stall near the department store. The man was whispering to a group of teenagers, holding up a sleek, green-and-purple wand tipped with a blooming flower aesthetic.
"Genuine Paldean magic," the merchant hissed. "Channel the power of a Meowscarada! Only ten thousand Pokédollars!"
Ace scoffed. Ten thousand for a piece of painted plastic? The guy was a scammer. And scammers didn't deserve to keep their inventory.
Ace bumped into the merchant, apologising profusely while helping the man pick up a dropped potion. By the time Ace turned the corner into a deserted alley, the wand was sitting comfortably in his jacket sleeve.
"Let's see what magic this ten-thousand-dollar knock-off can do," Ace muttered.
He pulled the wand out. It was heavier than he expected. It hummed with a strange, vibrating energy that made the hairs on his arms stand up.
“Mask of the Verdant Trickster,” Ace muttered, reading the engraving on the wand. He shrugged and gave it a sarcastic flick. “Abracadabra.”
FLASH.
The alleyway lit up with a blinding, neon-green light.
Ace didn't feel a surge of magical power. He felt his bones twist.
"Oh, you have got to be—"
His voice cracked, pitching into an odd, feline octave. He dropped the literal magic wand. Green fur burst from his skin, rapidly crawling up his arms. A thick, leafy cape sprouted from around his neck, suddenly much heavier than his jacket.
Ace stumbled back. His shoes felt painfully tight. His heels popped up, forcing him to balance entirely on his toes.
Then came the headache. A massive, pounding migraine hit him like a train. Suddenly, he just knew things. He knew how to summon a flurry of leaves. He knew how to create a flower bomb. He knew how to blend into the shadows. The knowledge was shoved into his brain with zero regard for the space it took up.
He looked down. Two green paws stared back.
He tried to take a step, tripped over his own newly joined legs, and crashed hard into a nearby dumpster.
“Okay, okay, calm down,” Ace muttered. He sounded like a cartoon cat.
He closed his eyes. He focused on his hands. He mentally grabbed whatever bizarre energy was running through his veins and shoved it down, suffocating it.
With a sharp gasp, the fur receded. His heels hit the asphalt. He was human again. Sweating, trembling, but human.
He grabbed the wand, shoved it deep into his pocket, and practically ran out of the alley. He needed to test his new powers and see what the wand had done to him.
____________________________________________________________________________
Route 16 was dead quiet at night.
Ace stood in a clearing surrounded by tall grass and thick trees. The city lights of Celadon glowed faintly in the distance. He had ditched the vest and button-down for a black t-shirt, worn blue jeans, and a faded olive-green bomber jacket. It was a much better casual outfit, yet still allowed him to blend into the dark.
He pulled out a standard deck of playing cards. He didn’t look different, but the headache from earlier had left a lingering, staticky buzz in his fingertips. He felt the moves sitting at the back of his throat.
He flicked a card toward a nearby tree.
Instead of harmlessly bouncing off the bark, the paper glowed bright green in mid-air.
Boom.
The card exploded in a shower of sharp, glowing petals, taking a sizable chunk out of the tree trunk before fading into a flurry of bright green dust. Dust from the tree and faded petals rained down onto the grass.
Ace blinked, slowly lowering his hand. “Well. That’ll help with my performances.”
But he needed to see the whole picture. He took a breath, closing his eyes. Instead of pushing the buzzing energy down as he did in the alley, he pulled it forward.
The transformation was faster this time. The migraine was still there, but duller. He opened his eyes.
The ground was closer. He looked down at his green paws, then patted his face. He found a soft, mask-like layer of fur around his eyes. A thick, leafy cape draped smoothly down his back, replacing the heavy fabric of his green jacket.
Ace twisted around, catching his reflection in a small puddle near the tree root.
He tilted his head. The Pokémon staring back was sleek, covered in green and dark leafage, and undeniably feminine. He had no idea what region this thing was from. He'd certainly never seen anything like it in Kanto.
"A bit heavy on the eyeliner," Ace muttered, his voice turning smooth, sounding as if he was purring. He flexed his paws, watching the sharp, retractable claws slide out. "But felines are known to be silent and fast. Pickpocketing is going to be an absolute breeze."
Satisfied, he shoved the energy back down. The fur melted away, his heels hitting the dirt as the olive jacket settled back over his shoulders.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned back toward the glow of Celadon City.
A chill suddenly ran down his spine. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up.
Move.
Ace instinctively threw himself hard to the right.
Thwack.
A thick, purple glob of sludge slammed into the tree trunk exactly where his torso had been a second ago, sizzling violently against the bark.
Ace hit the dirt, rolling back onto his feet.
"I wouldn't celebrate just yet."
Three figures stepped out from the treeline, cutting off his path to the city. They wore crisp, black uniforms with a massive red ‘R’ plastered across their chests.
Team Rocket.
“Continuous energy spikes,” the lead grunt said, holding up a bulky tracker that beeped rapidly. “Target confirmed. Grab him.”
Most people would run. Most people would panic. Ace just sighed.
“Listen, I feel honoured the notorious Team Rocket thinks my shows are a blast,” Ace said, dusting off his jeans with one hand while slipping a playing card out of his sleeve with the other. “But you guys don’t have to stalk me into the woods for an encore.”