Chapter no.30 Aftermath

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Brock sat outside the Pewter City Gym, enjoying a rare moment of solitude. It felt good to be alone sometimes, away from the noise, the constant pressure of being a Gym Leader, and the expectations everyone had of him. The evening air was cool, and the quiet wrapped around him like a blanket. He popped open a can of iced tea, the crisp sound cutting through the stillness. For a brief second, he let himself relax.

Then, the peace shattered. A police siren blared, sharp and urgent, making him jump. Red and blue lights flashed in the distance, and he tensed. Something was wrong. Officer Jenny pulled up in her car, the door flung open as she stepped out, breathless.

"Brock, an attack on Mt. Moon," she announced, her words hitting him like a punch.

"What?" he barely managed to say before another voice echoed his surprise. He turned and saw Flint—his dad—stepping out from behind some bushes. What the hell? Was he spying on me?

His brow furrowed in confusion, and he wasn't the only one. Officer Jenny's jaw practically hit the floor.

"Flint? Is that you?!" she asked, disbelief clear in her voice.

"Y-yeah," Flint replied with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head like this was all just some funny coincidence.

"I thought you were dead," Jenny blurted out, shock still evident. Brock clenched his fists, biting back the flood of emotions that stirred inside him at her words. Dead. His father might as well have been.

But that wasn't important right now. Focus, Brock.

"What about Mt. Moon?" he cut in, his voice hard, forcing himself to push aside the confusion, the anger, all of it. There was no time for family drama. "What's happening?"

"I'll tell you all the details in the car," Jenny said, urgency in her voice. "But we need to be there. Now."

He didn't hesitate. He was already moving, sliding into the passenger seat before she even finished her sentence. "Drive," he ordered, settling in, his mind already racing ahead to the worst-case scenarios. He heard her hesitate for a moment, and he knew why. She was torn, her eyes flicking between him and Flint. The tension between them was palpable. Flint was back, but Brock didn't care. Not right now.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts, though they kept circling back to his father. The man who had abandoned them. Under any other circumstance, he'd want nothing to do with him. He hadn't spoken to Flint since he disappeared, since he left Brock to take care of their family. But this wasn't about him. The people at Mt. Moon needed help. The city needed reassurance. And no matter how much it grated on him, they needed every capable trainer.

"Get in," Brock said, the words bitter on his tongue, but he forced them out anyway. For the greater good, he reminded himself. This isn't about you, Brock.

Flint's face lit up, like he didn't realize the gravity of the situation. Or maybe he was just happy Brock didn't tell him to screw off. Whatever. Brock couldn't think about that right now.

Flint climbed into the back seat, and Brock felt a wave of anger rise up again, but he shoved it down. There would be time for that later. 

"Well then, Flint, enjoy the ride," Jenny said, her tone light but firm as she slammed her foot on the gas. The car roared forward, and they sped off toward Mt. Moon. Brock glanced out the window, his thoughts already drifting to what awaited them there.

In just a few minutes, the car pulled up at the base of Mt. Moon. The scene was chaos. Reporters swarmed like a pack of Spearow, their microphones thrust forward like spears, bombarding the arriving police officers and Pokémon Rangers with questions. The area was a whirlwind of activity—medical teams rushing victims to ambulances, injured Pokémon being escorted to safety, and officers coordinating the whole effort like it was some kind of battlefield.

As Officer Jenny's car approached, she punched the horn, the blare cutting through the noise like Lugia parting the Red Sea. The reporters scattered, but only just enough to give them room to park. As soon as Brock stepped out of the car, the onslaught hit him.

"Brock, what can you tell us about the attack?"

"Is it true that wild Pokémon are involved?"

"Is it true that a gang of thieves were involved?"

"We heard something about a vigilante, what can you tell us about them?"

"How many are injured?"

"What is the response of the League in all of this?"

Their questions came at him from all directions, and Brock could feel the weight of the attention bearing down. He ignored the media, pushing his way toward the police line. There were more important things to deal with right now. The truth was, he didn't have answers yet, and until he did, he wasn't about to feed the media frenzy.

As he neared the line, a familiar voice broke through the commotion. "Brock, good to see you."

He turned and saw Greg, the Superintendent of the Pokémon Rangers. He was as imposing as ever—broad-shouldered, with that commanding presence he carried effortlessly. Before Brock could even greet him, Greg swept him up into a bear hug, lifting him slightly off the ground.

"Good to see you too," Brock managed to say, his words muffled into Greg's shoulder. "But, please put me down before the media spins this into a story about you not taking your job seriously."

Greg laughed, his booming voice cutting through the noise around them. "What, for hugging my nephew?" He set Brock down but kept a firm hand on his shoulder, giving him a good-natured squeeze.

"I wouldn't put it past them," Flint's voice cut through the tension as he walked up to them.

Greg's expression shifted instantly, his gaze darkening at the sight of Flint. Brock could practically feel the temperature drop, so he did the only thing he could think of to prevent a scene—he pinched Greg's arm, just enough to break his focus.

"The media is here," Brock muttered under his breath, hoping to remind Greg of where they were and who was watching.

Greg exhaled deeply, his broad shoulders relaxing a bit as he placed a heavy hand on Flint's shoulder. "After this is over, we will talk, best friendo."

There was a weight to his words, a promise of something more than just catching up

Flint just nodded, then turned toward the reporters, his stance shifting as he prepared to face the crowd. "I'll deal with the media so that you all can focus on this," he offered, his voice steady, almost formal.

Brock couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude wash over him. He could tell Greg felt it too, though he still looked skeptical. Greg leaned in closer, his voice barely a whisper. "Is he the same good-for-nothing father?"

Brock remained silent and watched from a distance as Flint made his way toward the reporters. His mere presence caused a ripple through the crowd, and it didn't take long for someone to recognize him.

"Wait, aren't you the Boulder?" one of them exclaimed, referring to Flint's old nickname, The Boulder of Pewter City.

Flint snorted, slipping effortlessly back into his old persona. "Yes, and the Boulder is back, baby," he declared, his voice booming with the character he used to play for the cameras. It was strange seeing him like this, larger than life, especially after what had just gone down.

"Can you tell us what you've been up to for the last few years?" another reporter asked, her microphone thrust forward eagerly.

For a moment, Flint's smile faltered. Brock could see the hesitation in his eyes as he paused, considering his answer. "The Boulder is conflicted; if he wants to tell you that information."

Brock almost rolled his eyes. Flint was putting on a show, distracting the press from what really mattered here. Greg, standing beside him, leaned in and whispered, "You know, your mother was the one who came up with that nickname."

"I didn't know that," Brock replied absently.

"Jenny gave me a bit of a rundown, but what happened in there?" Brock asked, his voice tense as he turned back to Greg.

Greg sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's complicated. We've got consolidated testimonies from the victims and some evidence from inside Mt. Moon, but... it's messy."

Brock tried to process what Greg was saying as he filled him in. His mind raced with each detail shared, particularly about the enigmatic figure at the center of it all—viewed by some as a hero, by others as a monster.

"What about this 'Bag Boy'?" Brock asked, the nickname hanging awkwardly in the air.

"Long gone by the time we got there," Greg said, shaking his head. "We think he's between ten and twelve years old, but given the level of violence and planning, he could be older, maybe suffering from dwarfism."

"That's… a hell of a guess," Brock muttered, still trying to wrap his head around the idea of a kid being behind all this. "What about his Pokémon and skills?"

"We know he had a Rattata, Eevee, and Spearow. There's a chance he had more Pokémon, but he took steps to make sure they weren't seen. From what we've pieced together, he mapped out all of Mt. Moon, executed sneak attacks on most of the grunts, and brutally overpowered the leader of the operation."

Brock froze. "Brutally overpowered?" he repeated, the words sticking in his throat.

Greg nodded grimly. "According to some rangers, the leader was as strong as a gym leader. And this kid took him down."

Brock swallowed hard, the weight of that statement settling in. Team Rocket had always been seen as a bunch of thugs—Pokémon thieves and petty criminals. But if they had someone that powerful in their ranks... it changed everything. His mind flashed to Ash. Could it be? Could he be Bag Boy? It seemed absurd, but the thought lingered for a second. Ash had a Rattata and a Spearow too…

No. Brock shook his head, dismissing the idea. Ash was just a kid, barely starting his journey. It couldn't be him.

"What was Team Rocket's goal here?" he asked, turning his attention back to the more immediate problem.

Greg's expression darkened. "We're still not sure. The captured grunts are too terrified to talk. It's like they're more afraid of Team Rocket than they are of us."

"Gang loyalty?"

"Doubt it. It's something else, something bigger." Greg glanced around, making sure no one was listening. "This 'Bag Boy,' with the way he handled those grunts and the care he showed the prisoners… he was ruthless with the leader. It feels personal, like he's driven by revenge."

Brock's gut twisted at the thought. What kind of kid would be driven by revenge like that? What could have happened to push someone so young to such extremes?

"What's our next move then?" Brock asked, feeling a little lost.

"Officially? Damage control. Unofficially, the Rangers are going to make a few people scapegoats to protect their image. It's not pretty, but that's how these things go."

Brock nodded slowly, the reality of the situation sinking in. "At least the immediate threats are neutralized. The bad guys are in custody, the victims are safe, and the injured Pokémon are being treated."

Greg sighed, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. His fingers lingered on it, but he didn't light one up. "And the media's going to have a field day with the vigilante angle. They love a mysterious hero—or anti-hero, in this case." He shook his head, clearly dreading the inevitable wave of press that would follow. "This paperwork is going to be a nightmare."

Brock couldn't help but agree. Things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated, and he had a feeling they were only going to get worse.

 [20 Minutes Ago]

Austin slipped out of the tunnels of Mt. Moon just before the authorities arrived, but there was still one last task he needed to complete.

The night air was cool, and the silence felt almost eerie as he navigated the rugged terrain of the Mt. Moon range and arrived at a secluded spot near a giant tree. That's where he had left the man earlier in the evening—bound, distressed, and wearing nothing but his underwear.

"SOMEONE HELP ME!" the man yelled, his voice breaking the quiet night. But the second he saw Austin approaching, he stopped mid-shout and squeezed his eyes shut, pretending to sleep. Like that would work.

"If I don't move, he won't see me," the man muttered, barely audible.

Austin couldn't help but snort. "That only works when a T-Rex is written by Michael Crichton."

The man sighed, realizing his pathetic attempt to hide was futile. Slowly, he opened his eyes and faced Austin, resignation settling in his expression. "Okay then, just do it quickly."

Austin shook his head, crouching down in front of him. "I'm not going to kill you," he reassured him. With deliberate care, he took Zubat's Pokéball from his belt and gently placed it in the man's lap.

"You aren't?" The man looked confused, his brow furrowing in disbelief.

"No. Zubat was willing to do anything I asked to save you. That tells me you're not all bad."

The man's voice softened, and the tension in his body loosened. "Thank you… I'm Christopher."

"Christopher, why are you with Team Rocket?"

He hesitated, then looked away, guilt tugging at his expression. "It's the money... My mother needs surgery, life-saving surgery, and it's expensive. I couldn't find any other way to get enough in time," he admitted, his voice cracking as he spoke. The desperation in his tone was hard to ignore.

"How much more do you need?" Austin asked, already thinking ahead.

"40k total. I've managed to scrape together 25k, but…" His voice trailed off, the hopelessness evident.

Without a word, Austin reached into his bag and began counting out cash. "Here's 15k Pokédollars. It's enough to cover the rest of your mother's surgery. And in exchange, you answer my questions."

Christopher's eyes widened, trembling as he stared at the money Austin offered him. It wasn't necessary—Austin could've threatened him, manipulated him. But he didn't. Christopher's lips quivered, and tears started to well up in his eyes. "What's your first question?"

"How do you get into Team Rocket?"

A few minutes later, Austin was sneaking back into Pewter City, which was still buzzing from the chaos surrounding Mt. Moon. Small groups of people were huddled around shop windows, watching news reports on television screens. The city had an air of unease, but he kept his head down, moving through the streets unnoticed.

His destination was the Pokémon Center. As he walked in, he was met by the familiar face of Cassie, the intern manning the front desk. Her pink hair was a dead giveaway, and she had that usual tomboyish vibe about her.

"Oh, if it isn't my favorite workaholic. Didn't you leave for Mt. Moon?"

He grinned, trying to play it cool. "Dude, didn't you hear what happened at Mt. Moon? Shouldn't you be glad I'm safe?"

Cassie rolled her eyes but smiled. She and Austin had grown close during his basic medical aid training here. "I am glad, but what happened?"

He had to think quickly. "Nah, I was staying at a friend's house. I was going to go in the morning." He shrugged casually, planting the alibi. If anyone started investigating the trainers heading toward Mt. Moon, he needed to be far from suspicion.

"Lucky," Cassie sighed, sounding relieved. "So what can I do for you?"

"Can I use the communication room? I need to call my mom and let her know I'm safe," he said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, though he could feel the weight of everything pressing down on him.

"Good call," she said, nodding as she motioned him toward the back.

Austin gave her a quick smile, then turned toward the communication room.

Austin dialed the Viridian City Pokémon Center, his fingers moving quickly over the phone's buttons. He left a voicemail and switched immediately to a more personal call. Dealing with Delia right now... that was going to be a challenge.

News from Mt. Moon had been all over the media. Every headline screamed about the chaos, which only added fuel to Delia's fears. As a mom, she was already overprotective, but now, with Gary involved in the whole mess too, she was a wreck. Austin could hear it before she even said a word. The moment the call connected, she was crying.

"Mom, hey... it's me," he said softly, trying to calm her down, but his voice felt far too small in the face of her tears.

For a few minutes, he just let her get it all out—how scared she was, how the media made everything sound like the apocalypse, how she thought he'd gotten himself killed out there. His mind wandered, trying to piece together his own emotions. Guilt? Maybe. But more than anything, he just felt tired. Worn out. It was like he was constantly running, never really able to catch his breath.

"I'm fine, Mom. Really. I promise," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "No injuries, no scars, not even a scratch. All my underwear is clean." Did Ash used to run his underpants up a flagpole or something? I could never figure out why she cared so much about them.

She sniffled, finally calming down. "Just... be safe, Son. Please."

"I will, I swear," he said, grateful for the distraction as he noticed another incoming call. "Look, I've got someone else on the line, but I'll call you again soon, okay?"

She sighed. "Okay, sweetie. Just... keep yourself safe."

"I will," he said again, already switching the call over to Nurse Joy from Viridian City.

The second he answered, she didn't miss a beat. "Looks like you've been busy, Bag Boy. Was Mt. Moon also the darkness that shaped you?"

He blushed. I regret ever using that Bane's speech for a distraction. .

"So, what can I do for you, hero?"

He took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to start. "Well... I'm sure you've heard about the chaos at Mt. Moon."

"In a sense, yeah. But the news isn't really saying much, just that something happened."

Of course. The media was quick to panic but slow with details. He gave her a rundown of what happened, being careful to leave out the more brutal stuff. No point in making this worse than it already was.

"So, you need me to treat your Pokémon?" she asked, getting straight to the point.

"Yeah," he admitted. "It's better to keep things low-key. Too many questions might lead Team Rocket straight to me."

She nodded thoughtfully. "But couldn't your identity as 'Bag Boy' be traced back to Viridian? And from the description of your Pokémon, they could figure out who you are."

He hadn't even thought of that.

Nurse Joy smiled slightly, her voice calm. "Don't worry. I've already removed you from the Pokémon Center database. Even if someone tries to trace your visit here, they won't find any records of you."

Relief washed over him. "You're a lifesaver," he said, and he meant it. "How long will the check-up take?"

"I'll have them ready in about fifteen minutes," she replied, her professionalism cutting through the usual banter.

Once the call ended, Austin stared at his phone for a second, mind racing. He needed to call Professor Oak. Gary was involved in this mess, and the last thing he wanted was to have that on his conscience. Dialing the professor's lab, he ended up speaking with his assistant, who told him that Oak was on his way to Pewter to check on Gary personally.

Good. At least that part of the mess was being handled.

Then, as if the universe had some cruel sense of timing, his phone rang again. It was Nurse Joy, sooner than expected. When her face appeared on the screen, his heart sank. She looked... serious.

"What kind of situation were you in?"

"Life-threatening," he admitted, feeling the weight of the words.

She sighed heavily. "Well, I've got bad news and good news. Which do you want first?"

"Which one takes longer?" he asked, stalling for time, trying to brace himself.

"Bad news," she said with slight hesitation.

"Let's go with the good news then," he decided, already feeling like he needed something positive.

She nodded. "The good news is that your Pokémon can make a full recovery. And nice job on treating Pikachu—honestly, you did better than most amateurs. If being a trainer or a hero doesn't work out, you could always work for me."

He chuckled. "I saw your intern—no thanks, slave driver."

She smirked, the tension between them easing for a moment. "I promise, I'd treat you slightly less worse than my ex-husband."

They both laughed, the moment hanging there like a calm before the storm. Austin knew he'd have to face whatever bad news was coming, but right now, it felt good to just laugh.

"The bad news is that all your Pokémon are in serious need of help," Nurse Joy began, her voice heavy. Austin's stomach dropped. She wasn't sugarcoating anything. This was going to be bad.

"Let's start with Pikachu. He's the simplest case. He had multiple lacerations on his skin and some muscle damage. Thankfully, the first aid you administered prevented infection and further deterioration."

"What's the solution?" Austin asked, bracing himself for whatever was coming.

"Pikachu needs a course of antibiotics to stave off any potential infections from the cuts. I'll also apply a regenerative gel to accelerate the healing of his skin and muscles. He'll need rest and no battles until he's fully recovered."

Austin nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Okay, that's manageable."

Nurse Joy's expression shifted, and he knew they were moving on to the harder stuff. "Rattata, on the other hand, suffered from extensive burns across her body, along with internal damage and bleeding. The healing potions you used helped stabilize her, but she needs more intensive care."

"What needs to be done?" His voice cracked. He felt like he was on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a drop that never ended.

"She's going to need to be shaved to properly treat her burns. We'll apply a special burn ointment that promotes healing and reduces scarring. She'll also need pain management and anti-inflammatory medications to deal with discomfort and internal swelling. For the internal bleeding, we'll keep her on hemostatic agents and monitor her closely."

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. At least there was a plan. At least she could recover. "Thank you," he managed, relief mixing with the anxiety still churning in his gut.

Nurse Joy's tone turned somber, almost accusatory. "Lastly, there's the issue with Spearow. To be honest, if I didn't know you, I'd consider what you did to him to be abuse."

Austin froze. Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of him. Abuse? What had I done?

"How many badges did you use on Spearow?" she asked, her eyes boring into his.

"Eight Boulder Badges on Spearow and two on Rattata," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh, that explains it."

"Explains what?"

Nurse Joy's expression was grim. "A normal Spearow's mass is about 2 kilograms. Can you guess what your Spearow's mass is now?"

He had no idea. He'd never really thought about it. "No."

"Forty kilograms."

He felt like he'd been doused in ice water. Forty kilograms? That was—what had he done?

"Spearow's drastic weight gain is extremely harmful," Nurse Joy said, her voice carrying the weight of the words like an anvil. "Normally, a Spearow's hollow bones are adapted for flight, but at 40kg, flight becomes impossible. The excessive mass puts incredible strain on its skeletal structure, risking fractures and other bone injuries. More critically, the extra weight is a massive burden on Spearow's heart, which isn't designed to support such a body mass. This could lead to severe problems and a lifespan of less than a year."

Her words slammed into Austin, guilt clawing at his insides. He covered his face with his hands, trying to block out the shame that flooded over him. How could he let this happen? He thought he was helping Spearow—making it stronger—but instead, he'd pushed it to the brink of collapse.

"There are two solutions to all of this," Nurse Joy continued, her voice softening when she saw how crushed he was. "The first is surgery, where we'll remove the increased body mass. This is typically done in cases where rich trainers irresponsibly use items to drastically alter their Pokémon's physique, often leading to... well, you know." She hesitated, not wanting to say the word. Death.

Austin winced at the idea. "But Spearow's different?" he asked, almost pleading for a way out of the guilt.

"Yes. Your Spearow is stronger than most. It's not the typical case, and it's resilient enough to live through this. But surgery is still risky."

He felt a small spark of hope flicker inside him. He wasn't a complete screw-up. Maybe Spearow could pull through.

Nurse Joy tilted her head slightly, listening as Austin described Spearow's training regimen.

"Hmm, that might explain some increase in bone density," she conceded, her eyes thoughtful. "Your training may have inadvertently strengthened Spearow's bones enough to withstand the extra mass, which is lucky—very lucky. Most normal Spearows would've snapped like twigs under this kind of pressure."

He felt a flicker of pride but quickly crushed it under the weight of the situation. "So... there's another option?"

Nurse Joy sighed. "Yes, theoretically."

That word made Austin freeze. Theoretically? "What do you mean, theoretically?"

"The second option is riskier. Most trainers—or medical professionals for that matter—don't even consider it. But because Spearow's internal structure seems stronger, I'm recommending it."

Austin leaned forward, his heart pounding. "What is it?"

Nurse Joy's expression shifted to something almost... amused. "Becoming an Alpha Pokémon."

For a second, Austin thought he'd misheard her. "Wait, what?"

"Alpha Pokémon," she repeated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Do you know what they are?"

He shook his head, feeling like a clueless kid again. "No, ma'am."

Nurse Joy explained, "In the wild, there are Pokémon bigger and stronger than the normal versions of their species—Alpha Pokémon. They're incredibly rare, almost as rare as legendaries."

Austin blinked. Alpha Pokémon? Like... real-life, beefed-up super versions of normal Pokémon? This sounded insane. "So... Spearow could become one?"

"It's possible. Statistically rare, but possible," Nurse Joy continued. "Sometimes it happens due to genetic predispositions or environmental factors. In Spearow's case, you might just be lucky—very, very lucky."

He tried to wrap his head around it. "So... what, Spearow just evolves into an Alpha Fearow?"

"Essentially, yes," Nurse Joy said with a nod. "When a Spearow evolves, its body mass normally increases significantly—from around 2kg to about 38kg. In your Spearow's case, it would grow even larger due to its current condition."

Austin felt his breath catch in his throat. "How big are we talking?"

Nurse Joy paused, doing some quick calculations in her head. "Based on its current weight and typical growth patterns, I estimate around nine feet tall with a 28-foot wingspan."

Austin jumped out of his chair. "Jesus Christ!"

Who? Nurse Joy thought but didn't say anything.

"As I said, you're very lucky," Nurse Joy added with a twinkle in her eye. "So, what's your choice?"

He didn't even need to think about it. "Spearow would love to be an Alpha Fearow."

Nurse Joy nodded approvingly. "I'm sure he will."

Austin's heart raced, but he couldn't help the excitement bubbling up beneath the anxiety. This was huge. Spearow, an Alpha? It felt surreal.

"So, what now?" he asked, trying to refocus.

"Now, I'll send back Pikachu and Spearow with their medications and detailed care instructions," Nurse Joy explained, slipping back into her professional tone. "Rattata will be sent tomorrow after we've treated her burns and assessed the damage."

Austin thanked her and ended the call, leaning back in his chair, trying to process everything. His mind was spinning with images of a nine-foot Fearow tearing through the skies—or, more likely, eating him out of house and home.

"Nine feet, huh?" he muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling.

He was gonna need to make some serious adjustments—bigger Pokéballs, more food, way more space. Managing an Alpha Pokémon would be like caring for a small dinosaur. No, scratch that—it was caring for a small dinosaur.

The thought hit him like a truck. He slammed his head onto the table. This is gonna burn through my wallet like a Snorlax at a buffet.

Fuck.

He groaned into the table, already dreading the financial nightmare that was about to unfold. What had he just signed up for?

•••••••••••••••• Author's Note: Why did you decide to give Austin an Alpha Fearow instead of having him catch a Pidgeot for Mega Evolution, as many readers suggested?

Answer: Alright, so everyone was buzzing about getting Austin a Pidgeot for that cool Mega Evolution, right? But here's the twist—I went for an Alpha Fearow to shake things up! I actually crunched the numbers, using those fancy biological scaling laws to make sure the size and growth stuff made sense for a bird like Fearow.

Birds, like many animals, roughly follow what's known as "isometric scaling" for many of their dimensions, but for more precise modeling, especially at larger sizes, "allometric scaling" is often more appropriate. 

These are very rough estimates:

Height at 700 kg: 8.5 feet. Wing span required for normal flight functionality: 28 feet.

Alpha Fearow is just a little bit smaller than a Ho-oh but much larger than 99% of all Flying Pokemon even Zapdos, Moltres and Articuno.

2. The grunt who gave Austin his Zubat was inspired by the animation YouTuber Gumbino and his characters, David and Christopher. Check it out on YouTube for some fun.

3. Why did Brock refer to Austin as Ash? It's because Austin never introduced himself by that name; Brock knew him only by his official name, Ash.

Thank you for your support and for enjoying my work. 

I hope you have a blessed rest of the day, and please share your thoughts in the comments.