The Reaper

by The Vilified

Michael, a trainer from Johto, joins a special forces group to help eliminate those who would prey upon the innocent. But he never would have believed where that very fight would lead him, or how it would affect both him and those he loves - especially his own pokémon. Contains violence/gore, swearing, and lemons (human x pokémon).

1. Chapter 1

A/N:

Well, I've decided to test out my writing skills through this story. This is my first attempt at writing anything, so any criticism is definitely appreciated. I've already got most of a significant part this story written out, so updates will not be infrequent; mostly, I'll be typing, editing, and revising content that I've already developed. What's more is that this will be one of 3-4 "books," as I have at least two sequels planned for this story. All in all, it's safe to say that this will probably be around 1,000,000 words, maybe even more.

Now, a few fair warnings. This is clearly an action-centric story, so I'm hoping it is understood that this will have violence, and some disturbing things in it. That being said, nothing here will be intolerable, but still disturbing. Sorry to say, but that's war. Another thing, lemons are going to be a difficult area for me, being such that I have never written before. Though it's going to be awkward, I will try, and if I am not good at those particular scenes, maybe I could get in touch with another writer to help me out. So that, violence and swearing clearly make this M-rated. Don't say I didn't warn you.

One thing I have noticed while reading various stories on this site is the common "don't like, don't read" warning. I would say that that is applicable to this story - for the reasons listed above, and one other thing. This story is going to also be innately political. It won't be too relevant for quite a bit, but you'll see it spring up every now and then, alongside moral ideology. So I'm sure many of you may be wondering what the siding is of this story. A lot of readers might be surprised to find out that The Reaper and the planned sequels have a conservative leaning to them. That said, there will probably be things that everyone sees here that they may not like or agree with. And that's alright; it's perfectly common for rational people to not see eye-to-eye on this kind of stuff. But I also want you all to keep this in mind: viewpoints change - sometimes even drastically. I can say without a doubt that the majority of you have embraced opinions that you didn't support years ago. Again, this is natural. Views are apt to change over time, and that will be present in this story as well. One other thing that I want to state - and this is not only important in reading this story, but also in day to day life - is that there have been shitty people from all sides of the political spectrum. Whether it be the fascists of Europe and the Middle East to the communists throughout the USSR and Asia, every extremist point on the spectrum has wrongfully spilled blood. This story also serves as a big middle finger to the intolerance and moral bankruptcy of extremists on all sides.

Alright, now that all that's out of the way, I have a few disclaimers. I know this might sound shocking, but I am not the creator or owner of Pokémon. That would be Nintendo and Game Freak, so we can be grateful to them that we even have this content to fictionalize. I have not sought revenue or recognition in the creation of this fanfic, as it was purely for entertainment. Also (not sure if I need to include this or not), I do not own any of the real-life products in this story - mainly talking about firearm brands, such as Smith and Wesson, Heckler and Koch, Israeli Weapons Industries, and CZ. Sadly, I'm not in charge of any of those companies either. :(

Now, as a side note, I am trying to make this story as realistic as possible. That being said, I have actually changed a few things from the core series, though I think you will all agree that they are not significant changes. First thing's first, think of a single Pokédollar as a US Dollar. I know that the series prices are probably more aligned with the Japanese Yen, but most of us are from North America, so I'm doing everything in terms that we more closely understand. So a regular pokéball might cost Ᵽ20 or something. Also, the dex entries... holy crap. How has anything managed to survive on the entire planet when every other pokémon can destroy skyscrapers or mountains with no effort? If the dex were even remotely accurate, the seas would be a tidal mess of destruction, cities could be toppled in two seconds, and there would probably be no mountains (also, larvitar would not be helping in this regard). Sorry, but they are all getting nerfed in this story. They are still significantly stronger than humans obviously, but they won't be able to destroy half the planet with a flick of their thumb (looking at you in particular, legendaries).

Also, some other authors and I have created a Discord server, where we talk about story ideas and generally just have a good time. If you are interested in joining, shoot me a PM, as I can't post link info on FFN for some reason.

Special thanks to OnixTymime for the cover page! I strongly suggest that you check her out if you want artwork commissioned. If you would like, I will provide you with her contact information. Just shoot me a PM.

Additional artwork and information about the story is available at the Discord server. Of course, Fanfiction limits you to one picture per story, and there are some things that I can't physically post here (such as political charts), so if you'd like to see more content, then feel free to join the Discord chat with the others and I!

Enjoy reading, because I sure enjoyed writing.

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"When you're going through hell, keep going."

- Winston Churchill

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Ch. 1 - The Making of a Militant

Sweat rolled down his face, making its way into his eyes, burning and clouding his field of vision. His knuckles were chapped from the frigid mountain air, cracked and bleeding from the continuous labor. His blurred vision could pick up the ground, before retracting away once more. His superior, however, strode across as though nothing was amiss, stopping before a fallen individual. He wasn't moving. Prodding him harshly with his foot, the man above them all motioned for another. Within seconds, the unconscious person was taken up, carried away from the rest.

He held his position - even the smallest of mistakes, and he could pay for it. Not that he wasn't already paying. His body threatened to give way as he nervously glanced at the superior, now standing above him.

"Down!" he barked. Not wanting to do anything that could increase his current misery, he went down once more. The others followed suit.

"Up!" With fire lancing throughout his muscles, he did as he was told. The superior stood, immune to the cold, immune to their suffering. His daunting, upright figure seemed to taunt them. How could anyone possibly be so indifferent to their pain? He noticed another collapse in his peripheral. The man strode up to him.

"Get up." The fallen individual muttered something unintelligible, harshly gripping the trodden snow beneath him. "Did I fucking stutter? Get the hell up!"

"I… c-can't," he gasped. "I can't…do this anymore." Another arrived, waiting for confirmation.

"Get his weak ass outta here. He's not fit for this." Just like the one before him, he too was picked up and dragged away from the others. Their numbers were dwindling, having lost seven that day. At this rate, we won't have any left.

"Down!" He did as he was instructed, short of breath. The superior, walking past him, kicked snow into his face. Even with freezing temperatures, the sweat came through from enough exertion. The cold flakes stung as they impacted him. Holding his position, he too threatened to collapse at any given moment. No, he thought, this is my doing. This is what I chose.

. . . . .

The orange, rocky outcropping and littered grasslands gave way to thick, lush woods. Few wayward trainers wandered about - some looking for battles, others traveling similarly to him. With the sun shining through the few scattered-about clouds, it was a beautiful day in Hoenn.

A seventeen year old trudged along Route 111. He cast a glance to his side, taking in the sight of his wonderful, loyal team, each going about their own activities, somewhat unfocused on the path ahead of them. Not that he could blame them; the path they had been trekking across was mostly uneventful, the only excitement being the infrequent battle or two.

Charlotte, his first partner and starter, was his braixen. She was quite bold - never intimidated by anyone that had a size advantage over her, and could definitely bring the heat in a battle. Alongside that, her cunningness brought frustration to many of her opponents. Visibly bored with their endeavor, she was twirling her stick around like a baton in an attempt to amuse herself, an almost unwavering flame confined within the fork of the stick at the end, creating a quick orange streak in the air. One wavering motion and she almost struck the adjacent glaceon, causing her to duck.

Elise yipped, shooting a questioning, even unhappy, glare at Charlotte, who simply shrugged and set the stick back in its place on her tail. Elise was very timid by nature, even around the teammates she had become so familiar with, though she had no problems felling her foes. Opting not to get burnt in the chance that Charlotte decided to continue her activities, she edged closer to her trainer, brushing against his leg.

Layla paced ahead of them, steadily putting one foot in front of the other and in a straight line, keeping both eyes closed in the process. A lucario, she was practicing her balance, showing few signs of stumbling. She looks like she's trying to pass a sobriety test, he mused to himself. Of course, using no vision at all is much harder than using disoriented vision when trying to accomplish such a task. Layla was keen of focus - a true fighter, but always gentle to her teammates and trainer.

Finally, his ace - Veronica the flygon - was gliding effortlessly through the air. She was significantly larger and stronger than the average member of her species, nearing seven and a half feet in height, and weighing well over three-hundred pounds. She was vicious in battle, and even held a hotheaded demeanor. A bit temperamental, but sweet when she wanted to be, nonetheless.

They were planning on going to Lavaridge Town to continue the Hoenn gym challenge. Four badges down, they had worked their way from the southwest corner of the region - starting at Dewford, followed by Rustboro, Petalburg, and Mauville, respectively. Though half of his team was weak to fire types, he was not concerned in the slightest about their upcoming gym battle. The girls were each strong enough to give Flannery a run for her money - combined, she wouldn't stand a chance. None of these guys are like the gym leaders back home…

No, they were not originally from the Hoenn region. This wasn't even their first league challenge. They had been forged from the competitiveness of Johto, where the gym leaders were among the best in the world. Through much effort and nearly a year's worth of traveling and training, they had managed to collect all eight gym badges, granting them access to the the Indigo League's Elite Four, so that they could prove their strength to the champion.

…And if only it had been that simple. That was probably the first crushing reality he ever got. Just like every trainer out there, he had dreams of standing alongside his team as they triumphed over the league champion. But when they got there - when they battled those people - they soon learned that Lance could not have been further away.

Despite all their hard work, they met a startling realization - a realization that most trainers that had gotten that far had undoubtedly met. These four masters had had decadesto master the art of training, while he had only been at it for one. The gym leaders were of little preparation for such battles - they were required to compete at about your level of experience, so they had to switch their teams around, depending on how many badges you had. Elite Four members, however, had no such restriction. They could use whatever pokémon they wanted, and with years of experience in the field, each of them were opponents to be feared.

Their first run through struck a hard blow to their pride, especially because they weren't used to losing. Will had given them quite the fight, but after a twenty minute long battle, Veronica had managed to outmaneuver his xatu.

After their allotted day to recover, they moved on to Koga… and didn't even make it halfway through his team. They had no type advantages aside from Veronica's ground typing, and he had played things very defensively. This wore the girls out pretty quickly, allowing him to utilize their tired states into getting crucial hits on them. It seemed that as their campaign towards the champion had started, it had ended just as quickly.

They weren't discouraged, though. They went over key flaws in their performance, seeking to better their weaknesses. So, they trained and battled for weeks in and around Victory Road, readying themselves for another attempt.

Will was surprisingly elated to see them again - wanting to see if he could manage to defeat the trainer that had gotten past him. After all, the vast majority of trainers were stopped in their tracks by him, and as such, he wasn't used to suffering a loss. In a similar manner to them, he had also wanted a rematch, so that he may see if he had overcome the faults that had let victory flee from his grasp last time. So, they clashed once more.

He too had learned from his mistakes, as evident by their battle. Just like the first one, this fight came down to the wire, and took significantly more time. But unlike last time, Will had emerged victorious. This time, they had been shut out by the very first member.

Spirits crushed, they left the league. It became obvious that they needed to reach another caliber altogether if they were to compete with the best. That was when it hit them - they were trying to beat the best, most renowned league within all of the regions. Maybe, they could fare better if they tried another region.

So, here they were in Hoenn, embarking on another campaign. Everything had been going smoothly, and they had trampled the gym leader's very best teams. With nothing standing in their way, they continued on towards Lavaridge Town.

Not looking, he stumbled over a tree root in the path, forcing himself to react quickly to keep from falling over. He stumbled forth, but then caught himself. His wallet, though, which was in the pocket on the bottom right side of his cargo shorts, fell out, releasing a few of its contents onto the ground.

He knelt down and began placing the scattered bills and various other things back inside the wallet. Lastly, he picked up his trainer card and dusted it off. The name "Michael Higgs" was displayed in prominent, bold lettering.

. . . . .

Nighttime reached them before long, bathing the mountains with silver light, making the trees an uninterrupted shadow. They pitched the large tent in a relatively small clearing in the midst of the woods, as they didn't like to set up camp in view of the main road. With some help from Charlotte, he had set up a decently sized fire, their dinner cooking above it.

With his build, Michael was able to carry a fairly large pack, and with a large dragoness on his team, there was definitely the ability to carry a good deal of supplies. With a broad frame, Michael stood at 5'10 and weighed over 210 pounds, with mostly muscle defining his features.

He set up the tent, large enough to house each of them, and set up the sleeping bags. Because of their constant traveling, they were pretty tired. On the bright side, at their current rate, it would only take one more day to reach Lavaridge. Even after one night without, a warm shower and a real bed were welcome changes, but those were things you sometimes forfeited when engaging in a trainer lifestyle.

Sleep seemed out of grasp that night. Michael, staring straight up at the crest of the tent, listened to the outside sounds. Nocturnal species filled the air with their calls, both howling and hooting permeating the silence. Unlike most people, he did not feel threatened in the slightest. Attacks on humans were incredibly rare - most pokémon wouldn't dare to try such an action. And if anything decided to try its luck, it would find a nasty surprise waiting for it - in the form of four pissed off opponents. But laying beside Michael, out of clear sight, was something that could end an enemy quicker than any other pokémon. Something that he had jumped through a lot of legal loopholes to bring with him.

A chill ran up his spine, despite the blanket keeping him plenty warm. Something didn't feel right, but he couldn't decide what it was. Figuring he wasn't going to get any sleep, Michael reflected back to their journeys. Immediately, resentful gym leaders and trainers filled his mind, as well as his failure towards the Four, which left particularly bitter traces of thought. But replacing his short term anger, memories of meeting each of the girls flooded his mind.

. . . . .

At the time he was barely sixteen, he could remember walking across the stage. His cobalt cap and gown displayed his and his classmates' achievements in graduating from Lumiose University - the school known across the regions for its rigorous academia.

Kalos had many political faults, but the education system was unrivaled from any other region's. They had designed the system for specialization rather than generalization, focusing on the classes that the students wanted. How many contractors would find use for college level chemistry courses? How many scientists used social studies? The system was also designed around the trainer lifestyle. Rather than skipping a year or two like many teens did, students at Lumiose attended full time. Six days a week, six hours a day. Their increased workload and decreased number of relative classes allowed for most of them to leave far beyond most university graduates, and early enough to undergo a long campaign in training in their teen years, if they still wished to do so. But most of them opted to go straight into the work force, some as young as fifteen.

He liked that the university figured that classes should adjust to the students, leaving them to choose what they wanted to learn and specialize in. They were granted a major and a minor, and had few other courses that were applicable to everyone - home economics, where they learned to pay bills, manage accounts, take care of a house, and the likes, as well as general history classes (though it had some noticeable bias). Other than that, though, everyone's schedule was completely dependent on their desired field. Michael chose to major in biomedical sciences, as well as minoring in mathematics. He had excelled in the biological department enough to where he had even gotten some minor recognition in the field for his entry level thesis.

Despite this, the school definitely had its downsides. Given its focus on releasing students into the work force as soon as possible, everyone attending had very tight schedules that left them without many breaks at all. Aside from a few holidays, they had none. The summers that other students across the globe received as time off seemed no different to them from the winter. They attended during both; the school was continuous throughout the year. And though he'd enjoyed his field, part of him wished that he'd been educated in a more traditional way.

When he was six, his parents, wanting the best education for him, decided upon sending him there. Granted, they visited fairly often and called just about every night, but the instructors of the school saw him just as much as his real parents. His success and critical thinking allowed for him to excel there as well, though the competition was much harder. Hitting the books, he developed a love for learning, which stuck with him throughout the years, and allowed for him to graduate as the valedictorian of his class.

He gave his speech to the rest of the class before receiving his diploma, as well as getting his picture taken with the headmaster and, surprisingly, the mayor of the city. He could not have been happier at the time, and yet, these things were not what was giving him the most joy. No - he was full of anticipation, an anticipation that resulted from Professor Sycamore's word to the class.

For being at the head of the class in one of the best schools in the regions, the top three students were offered a reward - to receive a starter. But, as he had informed them, these starters were "particularly rare members of their species." His friend and roommate Alex, who he had practically spent every day of the last ten years with, would not give the subject a rest.

Alex's anticipation likely outweighed Michael's own, though he would be choosing second. Despite being best friends and doing everything together - including studying, working out - which was kind of humorous, as Alex couldn't provide the most reliable of spotters when Michael benched, nor could Michael pace nearly as well as Alex - and hanging out in general, they had both striven competitively to be the valedictorian. Michael ended up coming on top by a hair, mostly due to a particular teacher that Alex had being a poor instructor. In fact, had Alex received a better physics teacher, Michael wasn't so sure that he'd have come out on top. Many of their courses intertwined, including several of their math and science classes, but they had chosen different majors - Alex was more interested in becoming a mechanical engineer, whereas Michael had chosen biomedical sciences as his main interest.

So, once the ceremony was finished, they left for the subway, boarding the train as it arrived in its timely manner. The interior would have put even Unova's public transportation system to shame - another field in which Kalos had diverted significant funding towards. They sat across from one another on the elongated benches, Alex rhythmically tapping the metal post that one would hold on to if required to stand.

"Would you cut that out?" Michael asked, somewhat irritated after only a short moment of tolerating it.

"Sorry man, I'm just a bit nervous," he replied.

"A bit?"

"Alright, maybe a lot."

"I can get that. I mean, we are about to choose our first partners and all." As much as he tried to conceal it, Michael was impatient as well.

"Yeah," Alex mumbled, looking slightly dazed, before snapping back into reality. "Hoping to get a froakie. What do you think that he meant when he was talking about these starters? He mentioned them being rare."

"How should I know?" Michael asked. "Not like I've seen 'em."

"True."

"But," Michael continued, "he made a pretty big to-do about it. It could be anything."

The train ride, though quite familiar, seemed to stretch out longer than either of them wanted before finally coming to a rest at their stop. They hopped off and walked to the city's laboratory, which also doubled as the professor's house. He was waiting for them, leaning against the side of the door, clad in a slightly messy lab coat, though he was always one to keep a good appearance displayed. His golden belt buckle reflected the light of the descending sun, making it shine more prominently.

"Boys! So good to see you two! Congratulations on graduating top of your class!"

"Thanks professor," Alex responded. Michael knew him well enough to know that he was doing all he could to avoid sounding like an overwhelmed child on Christmas Eve. "Say, where's Stacy? She's late." The third in the class was nowhere to be seen, which was odd, as she was almost never late.

"I don't know, I told her the exact time to arrive," Sycamore shrugged. "No use us waiting out here. Let's head inside." He opened one of the large wooden doors at the main entrance - mahogany by the looks of it - and stepped inside, the two graduates following suit and closing it behind them.

"So, how is this supposed to work?" asked Michael.

"Well," the professor replied, " I'm going to display the three Kalos starters. Once one is picked, I'll head to the back and pick up another member of its species - that way you won't be forced to settle for a starter you don't want."

"That's a good idea," Alex commented as they made their way through the lengthy building. Sycamore turned to Michael, changing the subject.

"So Michael, I must say that I am thoroughly impressed with your work. Your essay about the correspondence to genetic adaptation and unusual move inheritance was quite the rage within the local biological community. Your theories actually helped me with my research towards the pokémon in the area."

"Thank you," Michael replied. "Evolution always captured my attention… well, microevolution."

"Eh, micro, macro - same thing," he chuckled.

"But we can't prove macro in any significant organisms. It's just a theory," he retorted, though not disrespectfully.

"Wait, are you meaning to tell me you are the creationist type?" the professor asked, shocked.

"Yeah," Michael said.

"Wow, wouldn't have taken a premier youth in science to be religious…"

"Well, he's not alone on that one," Alex chipped in.

"You too?"

"Yep."

"Well, I guess I could expect that one - you engies always are the weird type," he joked. "Never know what you'll get with one of them."

"Hey!"

"Relax, I was only messing with you," Sycamore replied. "You two feel free to believe whatever you want, and I will do the same." They had finally neared his desk, which was covered in various papers, notes, reports, and a half-empty coffee cup, likely from morning. Three balls laid in plain sight in front of three tablets. He removed his lab coat and set it over his chair, furnished with fine leather. He took the balls in his hands, enlarging them to full size. "Michael, you're up first." Sycamore pushed the central buttons on the spherical containers, releasing their captives. The tablets lit up. From what Michael saw, the professor had not been exaggerating when he said the starters were rare.

At the left, a chespin stood proudly, standing as tall as he could, as though called to attention in the military. It looked average enough for a chespin, but a quick look at its arsenal of moves was enough to put that thought to rest. Sporting the moves wood hammer, solar beam, quick guard, synthesis, spikes, and shadow claw, he was ready to take on the world, almost daring anyone to underestimate him. I'd probably never have to teach him another move, thought Michael. He's all set up.

The froakie, had access to water pulse, bounce, and even camouflage, putting it on a great path as well. What set this one majorly apart, though was its color scheme. It was a shiny. Without turning around, he could almost feel Alex coveting it. How in the world did he actually manage to get one of those?

Lastly, he looked over the fennekin. Its fur was somewhat unkempt, it looked up at him, noticeably shy. No - not completely shy. Was it scared? His gaze darted to the tablet, looking for information about it. Its moves consisted of ember, scratch and tail whip, leaving it with only a standard starter's moveset. In fact, the only thing that even seemed to set this fennekin apart from other members of its species was that it was female.

"About that one…" Sycamore began. "I must apologize, but I couldn't seem to get ahold of any fennekins that had overwhelmingly rare traits like the others. Sorry about that," he nervously stated.

"Not a problem at all," Michael replied. He noticed out of his peripheral that the fennekin's ears drooped. He carefully considered his options - a superstar, a shiny, and…a female. "Give me a moment to think please."

"Take your time," the professor said. He looked over the three options, knowing that there would be no going back once he made his choice. He could imagine himself winning many battles with that chespin, knowing full well the power that it already had, and that would only continue to grow. But then again, the sheer rareness of the Froakie enthralled him. Most people went their whole lives - their only view of a shiny from the other end of a screen. And the fennekin… she could be anything. It was impossible to tell. Hmm…the froakie looks pretty appealing… but I don't think I could do that to Alex… Michael looked over at the chespin, who was still staring straight ahead. Damn, he really is a little soldier. I think that I'll pick him. He cast a glance back towards the fennekin, but noticed that it stared straight down, unable to meet his gaze. That moment, he knew that she knew that she was not his decision. She was, in all honesty, outclassed by the other two. No… I don't even care about battling. She looks like she needs it most.

"I've made my decision," Michael said.

"Alright," Sycamore replied. "Who do you pick to be your partner?" Michael looked back at the fenekkin, who was visibly saddened.

"I choose fennekin." As soon as the words left his mouth, her head snapped up, mouth agape.

"Well... alright then." the professor asked. Why in the hell should he be shocked about my decision? Deciding to let the matter go, he nodded.

"Yes, I do." Her eyes were wide, moisture welling up inside them. Is she… about to cry? With a yip, she jumped straight up into him, being caught in his arms. A large smile on the fox's face, she proceeded in licking his, making him laugh. He hugged her tightly, but not in a constricting manner to her small frame. Her head poked up near his neck, and she seemingly couldn't resist the urge to nuzzle him.

"A..alright," Sycamore stuttered. "Well, you're up next, Alex." Without a second though, he responded.

"I choose froakie!" he said, a bit louder than called for. Now, he definitely couldn't contain his joy. The professor walked over to Alex and handed him the froakie's ball before making his way towards Michael to do the same. He paused for a moment, then dropped the fennekin's ball into his hand.

"Heeeeeeey! Sorry I'm late!" It was none other than Stacy, who finally decided to show up. Sycamore, startled, faced her. "Looks like it's my turn to pick," she said with a smile.

"Yes, give me a moment," Professor Sycamore replied. "I need to get another froakie and fennekin so that you will have a choice between all three starters."

"Oh, no need for that - I always wanted a chespin." She knelt before the grass-type, who still didn't budge. "Look at you! So cute and hardcore at the same time!" Despite his attempts, the chespin couldn't withhold a small blush. She hugged him, catching him off guard. Giving in, his small tail began to wag, if only slightly.

"Well," Sycamore sighed, "I guess that settles everything." He went over to a shelf on the side wall, grabbing three devices. "Here are each of your pokédexes."

"Thanks," they replied in unison.

"Each of you be sure to treat your pokémon with love and care." The words came out with some uneasiness, much to Michael's confusion.

"You can count on it," he replied, giving the fennekin a loving rub on the head.

"Same here," Stacy said.

"Well, I'd better get back to my work. You all take care."

"Bye professor," she said. They each headed to the door, exiting out into the streets. The sun had progressed in its setting, bathing both the city and streets in red-orange hues. Stacy went off on her own way before long, leaving the other two, who began to make their way back to the station.

"Hey Michael?"

"Hmm?"

"Not to be rude to your new partner or anything… but why did you make your choice?" The froakie, who was scampering about the ground, looked up, its curiosity piqued, as did the fennekin, who turned over in his arms, swapping to a more "cradled" position so that she could look at him. He looked down at her.

"Because… picking her just felt right." She darted up to his cheek and gave him a swift lick, followed by a warm growl. "And I would say that I made the right choice," he said, rubbing her head.

. . . . .

He had gotten Elise mere days later. After graduation, his parents had departed once more for Johto, whereas he stayed back in order to get things in order for moving back. The vast majority of his belongings were packed up and shipped back to his parents' home in Blackthorn. He had all but forgotten what living there had been like, life in the mountainous area being distant memories. Still, he anticipated returning, as he had never been able to adjust to the city life, despite the "Lumiose lifestyle" ranging throughout most of his development. As such, he had decided to move back to Johto for some time.

After everything was packed up, his parents paid for a cruise for him to catch on the way back as his graduation present. A week passed by, the boat leisurely drifting about the sea. He and Charlotte had found the cruise enjoyable at first, but were eager to step off once it had docked in Olivine's ports. White paint was being eaten away from the wood, peeling off from the salt water's contact. The next day, they were to depart for Blackthorn on an all-day flight. With the night to waste away, they lounged about the market. Various stands were set up, some longer than others and with more merchandise. Products of several sorts were sold, ranging from battle items to produce, as well as some decorative items.

Holding Charlotte within folded arms, he tossed their empty cones into a nearly full trashcan. She had not particularly enjoyed her flavor, and opted to try Michael's… before proceeding to eat the rest of it. Not that he minded, but he did kind of find it humorous. They made their way along the side of the fence, deciding to turn in for the night in one of the dozens and dozens of local inns, which had made a very good business out of renting rooms to travelers.

A yip from Charlotte alerted him. He looked down, noticing her motioning over to the side. Alongside the fading white fence was a makeshift stand, consisting of nothing much more than a pair of folding tables, covered with an assortment of goods - miscellaneous pokéballs, a few TMs, a bike with a couple of dents in it. The man selling the items wore a stained t-shirt and ripped jeans. This seems sketchy… Confirming his thought was an inhabited cage, an eevee lying on its side. It was sleeping rather uneasily.

"Ya gonna buy somethin'?" the salesman, if he could even be called that, asked. His breath smelled of cheap chewing tobacco, yellowed teeth confirming the detrimental addiction. Michael shot him a questioning look.

"…Maybe…Is this even legal?" he asked. The man chuckled, though it turned into a wheezing cough.

"Completely. Bunch'a used goods and an eevee I nabbed a couple a days ago." More like stolen goods… Still, he couldn't help but look at the eevee, who had stirred upon hearing the conversation.

"How much for the eevee?" That definitely got the Pokémon to perk up.

"A thousand, no less." He thought it over - he didn't really have much more than that, his account currently containing to only a couple hundred more than that amount. Buying the eevee would surely expend most of his cash, and it certainly seemed like an illicit transaction. He made eye contact with it, noticing its dirty mane, which had adopted a more dusty appearance, its naturally white color being tarnished. Probably hasn't been bathed… "It's definitely a fair price," continued the man, "considering the fact that it's a girl." She continued to stare at him hopefully. I can't leave her here, he thought to himself.

"Alright, I'll take her," he said, pulling out his wallet. Placing most of his money on the table, he was handed the cage, as well as the key to it.

"Sorry kid, ball's extra."

"Don't worry about it," Michael muttered, "I've got some." He hurriedly made his way away from the place and towards the inn that he had booked a reservation for, highly contemplating calling the cops on the man. But…I don't have any proof that he's doing anything illicit…and he'd probably be gone by the time they found him anyways…

With the sun setting, Michael entered the lobby of the inn, checking in at the front desk. The inn had really embraced the seashore theme, with light blue wallpaper, strung seashells, and various paintings of ships, water pokémon, and Olivine's famous lighthouse complimented one another to convey what one would expect in such an environment. After receiving his room key, as well as an awkward stare, which he attributed to carrying a caged pokémon in there, he headed to his room.

Once inside, he shut the door and immediately headed to the bathroom with the cage still in hand. Charlotte trotted behind curiously. Shutting the bathroom door and with all of them inside, he unlocked the small prison. He slowly, gingerly, picked up the eevee. It felt rather light. She looks like she's been through quite a bit… I think she's malnourished… He set her aside gently and ran the water, flicking the switch, making the drain close up. Grabbing the eevee once more, he set her inside and lathered her with shampoo, scrubbing out the dirt and grime. She sighed from the treatment, letting him know he was doing something right. Within moments, he had to empty the water, with it being far too dirty to cleanse. He filled it once more, starting a cycle that last nearly fifteen minutes. He scrubbed the soap deeply within her hair, lathering her from head to toe thoroughly, though going quickly around certain areas. Finally, he emptied the water one last time. He took her out and dried her off, her hair glistening.

After that, he gave Charlotte a quick bath, though hers did not take half as long - she was not nearly as dirty. Once he had dried her off as well, he opened the door.

"You two wait here," he said, before leaving their room altogether. Before long, he reappeared, carrying two bags with him as he walked through the door. The two had been conversing with each other, but stopped once he had returned. He had ran out before they could close shop and purchased several different kinds of berries, as well as a few groceries from the nearby pokémart. He put together a quick meal for them, creating nice berry salad. The eevee quickly downed her portion; Michael topping her bowl once more. She went right back at it - as though she hadn't eaten in days. That crook really didn't take care of her. The thought of the man neglecting her in a cage infuriated him. Charlotte couldn't help but stare, he noticed, at the eevee devouring the food. He sat down with his own meal, which consisted of a burger he'd grabbed in a hurry from a fast food joint.

"Take it easy," he advised. "Wouldn't want you to make yourself sick." She looked embarrassed at her behavior. "No one's gonna take it from ya," he reassured.

After dinner, he took a shower of his own, changed into a set of pajamas, and fell back on the bed, tired from a day of nonstop traveling, though he'd face a similar predicament tomorrow. He felt that now would be a good time to talk to the eevee, to try and get her to open up. He reached down, holding his arm out for Charlotte, and brought her up to join him on the bed, as they usually did. The eevee looked at them with curiosity.

"C'mon up here with us," he said. Similarly to before, he pulled her up. "So," he began, although quietly, "I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume he didn't take good care of you…" She looked down, then shook her head, confirming his suspicions. "Well, I'm sorry that you got caught up in that situation," he said. "You are free to go where you want. You don't have to stay with us if you wanna go back into the wild." He only felt that it was fair to give her the option of whether to join his team or not, even though she cost a great deal of money. If he restricted her freedom, he reasoned, he wouldn't be any better than the man who sold her. She looked at him curiously, then looked down. "Tell ya what, go ahead and sleep on it. There's no rush to make a decision." She faintly nodded, and he decided that he'd turn in for the night. Charlotte, like she had been doing for the last few days, laid against his side, her head against the crook of his shoulder. He couldn't help but notice in the corner of his eye the eevee staring at them intensely, before curling up into a ball under the blankets.

The next morning, his alarm on his phone went off, waking them all up. The eevee looked understandably irritated at the shrill sound - that was probably the best sleep she'd gotten in awhile.

"Sorry for the alarm," he told her. "We have to get ready and catch a flight." He got his stuff together, which wasn't very time consuming, and walked up to the front desk. After checking out and turning in his key, he left the inn. Before long, the airport came into site, barely visible due to the darkness of the early hours. The woods were off to the left. He turned around and knelt, bringing him much closer to the level of the eevee.

"This is where we head off. The choice is yours whether you join us or not," he said. "If I denied you that, then I'd be just as bad as that guy who sold you. That, and if you join us, I want to know that that is what you wanted and not what you were forced into." She looked over to the woods intensely, then back at him. "I'm sorry to rush you like this," he admitted, "I know it's a pretty significant choice to make." Indeed, choosing where one would be spending their life in a matter of moments was quite pressing. Michael secretly hoped she'd tag along, but would think nothing bad of the eevee if she wanted to go back into the wild. Although, he thought, It doesn't matter what I'd think of her, since I'd likely never see her again.

She took a few steps off the path towards the woods. Looks like she's made her decision… But before he could stand up, a blur harshly impacted his chest, sending him to the ground. The eevee, both paws at the side of his head, was licking his face.

"Hahaha, okay, okay." He took her small frame into his arms and sat up. Setting her down, he dusted himself off. "You wanna come with us?" She nodded vigorously, so he pulled out a luxury ball. He kept a few on him, which he had received from a wealthier friend back in Kalos, and opted to capture any pokémon in them, as they were reportedly much nicer inside. Not that he was fond of keeping any pokémon inside one of those things without a good reason. He pressed the ball against her head, and she disappeared into the red beam with a giggle. The well-known ding sounded, confirming the capture. He immediately released her. "How do you feel about having a friend to tag along, Char?" She let out a happy yip, nuzzling into the eevee, who returned the friendly gesture.

. . . . .

Once he had arrived at Blackthorn, he signaled a cab. His parents lived in the corner of the northeast suburbs, which was about ten miles away from the central city - where the airport, pokécenter and pokémart, and gym resided. Fortunately, the only city in the region that was really packed was Goldenrod. Most people preferred the suburbs on the outskirts of the cities rather than city apartments, so large-scale urbanization had not occurred in Johto like it had in the other regions. He liked it better that way - it was much more spacious than what he had gotten used to in Lumiose. He looked through the window, Elise and Charlotte propped up on his lap and doing the same. They watched the scenery with great interest - houses, businesses, streets that had been but faint memories. Some buildings had changed, of course - that much was to be expected in ten years, but most was as it had been when he left. Despite the small nature of the urbanized sector of the city, it was still abuzz, people going about their nightly activities. This entire place would probably be like a couple blocks in Lumiose, he thought. There were only half a dozen schools, each ranging from kindergarten to high, in the entire Blackthorn, whereas Lumiose had to have close to seventy on account of its overwhelming population. City buildings gave way into houses as they transitioned into the suburbs. It was an ironic dilemma that he found himself discovering his homeland.

The taxi pulled up at the side of the street in front of the given address, his parents standing at the doorway, waiting for him, and approaching when the vehicle pulled up.

"Thanks," Michael said, paying the fee and tipping the driver. Getting out, he got his luggage out of the trunk, consisting of his backpack and a couple of suitcases.

"Welcome back son," his dad said, grabbing the two suitcases. The taxi drove away, leaving them to themselves. "I see you've gotten yourself a couple of pokémon. Hope you know how to take care of them."

"I do," he replied. "But they aren't like children - they don't need coddling, and they haven't given me any trouble." Neither of his parents had been trainers when they grew up, so he didn't expect them to know much about having a pokémon.

"Well, no use in us standing out here," his mother said. "Let's go inside. I've just finished dinner." Michael and the two girls were hungry, as they had to grab a quick breakfast before their flight, and lunch on the flight had been rather unsatisfactory, even more so considering the portions they gave to the smaller pokémon. He ended up giving most of his food to the girls, claiming that he wasn't very hungry. After they ate, Pokémon were required to go back into their balls, much to their dismay - especially since there were empty seats around him.

After they ate, they all went back to his room. Just like the rest of the house, his room had undergone several changes - mostly a bigger bed, a plasma screen TV, and an empty desk. The room had been repainted - a light beige, which was also a welcome change from it's previous color. It used to be blue if he could recall correctly.

"What do you think?" his dad asked.

"I think it's awesome. Thank you both for all this."

"No problem, honey," his mom said. "Now you three best get to sleep."

"Yeah, rest up," his dad added. "Tomorrow I'll show ya' around town." He left, reappearing a moment later with a large pet bed.

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Michael said.

"Where do you expect them to sleep?" his dad asked, visibly confused.

"In the bed with me. Where else?"

"You let them sleep with you?" his mom asked.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I? I let them sleep wherever they want."

"...Alright then. Well, goodnight," his dad said, taking the bed out with him.

"Goodnight." After a quick shower, he slipped on a pair of gym shorts to lounge around in, and unpacked most of his luggage. Both Charlotte and Elise had already darted into the bed, burrowed under the covers. He chuckled, joining them underneath. As usual, Charlotte snuggled into his side. Elise looked at him, yipping out in question.

"You want in?" She nodded shyly. "Come on," he said, giving her a friendly smile. She brushed up against him, settling into his other side. Soon, they were asleep.

. . . . .

As he had said, his father showed him around town the next day. Touring the city's ins and outs served to familiarize him with the area once more, reminding him of his real home. Kalos was an okay region by his standards (though it would be much better if most of its politicians crawled in a hole and died), but Johto, with its scenery and ideals, was the only region he would ever consider home. He was snapped out of his reverie when they pulled up to a particular store. He looked at the sign - Blackthorn Outdoor and Sporting Goods.

"Hate to tell ya' this, but.." he nodded to the eevee and fennekin. "It's store policy…"

"Girls, I'm gonna need to put you in the balls for a little bit." They sighed, a slight pout on their faces, but nodded. "Don't worry, it won't be for long." He withdrew their balls and returned them. "What is it that we're doing here?" he asked.

"You'll see," his father responded, stepping out of the truck. He followed suit, and soon they had walked into the large store, Michael treading behind his father through the aisles. They approached several large cases in the back, displaying handguns of every kind, and rifles behind the counter. "The cruise was your mom's idea for your graduation. This is mine."

"A gun?"

"Yeah. You never know when you could be involved in a situation where you need to protect yourself. You are familiar with the inter-regional acceptance laws, right?"

"Yeah." Each of the regions, though they often disagreed with each other in political decision making, agreed to acknowledge the records, privileges, and immunities as each other. Jotho was a very conservative region - the polar opposite of Kalos. The law in regards to this stated that only an adult could purchase a handgun, normally setting the age minimum to 21. However, according to Kalos - a region where he couldn't even own a handgun - he was an adult on account of being able to enter the work force, due to the advanced school in which he graduated from. Under that logic, though he hadn't thought it over, he would be given admission to purchase a handgun, though they required everyone to take a background check.

"So, pick one out," his father said, motioning to the cases. He looked over the options. He was very familiar with guns - it had become a very interesting field to him, an interest that was somewhat disliked by most Kalosians, as even hunting rifles were rare. Yes, the politicians had done a very good job of making the people incapable of defending themselves - especially if they didn't have a pokémon.

Going from case to case, he looked over the choices. Due to the large variety of weapons, he felt that it would be better to decide what kind of a handgun he would like. Of course, this led him to the classic "pistol or revolver" dilemma. Thinking it over, he decided to go with a revolver, as they were incredibly reliable, more powerful, and easier to operate. Even though they couldn't hold nearly as many bullets as a pistol could, it wasn't like he'd be fighting off swarms of people with one. No, it was unlikely he'd ever even fire a shot in a confrontational fight, but better safe than sorry. Revolver in mind, he narrowed down his options. Hmm… .357, .44, or .45 Colt… well, .357s have the cheapest and fastest ammo, and I could shoot .38 specials in it. I guess I'll go with that. Looking over the .357s in the rightmost case, he found one that really captured his attention - a S&W 686. The seven-shot revolver had a four-inch barrel, adjustable sights, and a stainless-steel finish.

"Can I hold that one?" he asked the clerk.

"Sure, but I have to hand it to your father. Liabilities, ya' know?" He took it out, opened the cylinder, and handed it to Michael's father, who handed it to Michael. He took it and looked it over. The ergonomics felt great, so he experimentally aimed it at the wall. The revolver felt like an extension of his arm - very natural and comfortable to grip. Lastly, he pulled the hammer back, which drew back without much resistance, and brought it back down gently.

"You like that one?" his father asked.

"Yeah, it looks and feels great, and I don't think anyone would like a .357 punching through them."

"Well then, is that the one you want?" Michael nodded. "Alright."

An hour and a half later, they walked out of the store with a packaged revolver and several boxes of ammunition. He had to take a background check - understandably - which required them to check into his records from Lumiose University. After seeing that he was by far mentally capable enough to carry a gun, they registered it in his name. It was his. Hopefully, he would only have to use it for target practice.

"I must say," his father commented, "you made a pretty good choice."

"You think so?"

"Yeah - revolvers are reliable, and Smiths are well known for their quality. I have several." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. He fished one out and pressed it against his car lighter, noticing Michael staring. "What?"

"How long have you been doing that?" Michael asked, pointing to the cigarette.

"Eh, 'bout three, four years," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

"It's not really good for you…" he trailed off.

"I've been goin' steady ever since I started. As long as it's done in moderation - only a couple a day - you'll be fine."

"Not really," Michael replied. "Carcinogens really screw a bunch of stuff up in your system. Each time you smoke, you roll the dice. You could get cancer anywhere in your respiratory system."

"Ah, good to see your biology degree came into play. I'll tread lightly." And that was the end of it. If Michael's father ever said something, he wouldn't budge from his position, and there was no way to make him do so. Thankfully, with the window down, he didn't catch any secondhand smoke, so the odor didn't ruin the ride on their part. On the way back, they stopped at a gas station. Michael, Elise, and Charlotte stepped out and looked around. Upon getting out of the vehicle, they noticed the local gym across the street and decided to check it out. They walked in the automatic doors and were surprised at what they saw. Clair and her dragonair stood before a trainer and his fainted feraligatr, who was recalled into his ball.

"You don't have anything to be ashamed of. Let them rest up, come back and give it another shot," the gym leader said. Michael wasn't sure, but he thought he may have heard a hint of arrogance in her voice. He turned around and left seconds later, presumably to go to the pokécenter. Clair recalled her dragonair and noticed them, walking their way. "Are you here to challenge me?" the middle-aged gym leader asked.

"Umm…" he looked down at the two girls, who looked up somewhat eagerly. "I hadn't really thought about battling," he admitted.

"You haven't battled yet?" she asked.

"No - I've only been a trainer for a little over a week."

"Hmm, fair enough. Tell ya what - why not have your first battle against me? I've got an opening in four days, and I'm sure I could teach you a thing or two." He thought it over - he hadn't really considered himself a trainer, or at least by the real definition of the word. Though he was familiar with the logistics of battling, he hadn't considered doing it himself. And what if one of the girls got hurt? But…they looked like they wanted to do it. He figured that the choice should be up to them - after all, they would be the ones fighting.

"What do you girls think?" he asked. They let out happy yips in response. "Alright, we'll do it… though I'm pretty sure we have no idea what we're doing."

"Alright, just head over there to schedule the battle," she said, motioning towards the front desk.

"Are you gonna use that dragonair by any chance?" he asked somewhat nervously.

"No, that would be cruel. League policy states that we have to compete at the caliber of our opponent - otherwise we could just crush everybody, and no one would get a badge. I will use something much closer to your level."

"That's a relief," Michael said, approaching the main desk. Clair went around and withdrew a schedule sheet, filled with various signatures, booked for different times and dates. She handed him the paper, and he signed it on the open row on the designated date.

"Well, I guess I'll see you then," she said, holding out her hand, which he shook. "I'm Clair, by the way. What's your name?"

"Michael. Nice to meet you."

"Hmm… Michael. Pretty common name around these parts. I'll try to remember it though. Anyways, you better get to training some."

"We will," he replied, before exiting. I can't believe we just booked a gym battle… Oh well, we've got to follow through with it now… They walked back to the truck, which his dad was standing against, awaiting their return.

"Where'd you head off to?" he asked.

"We went and checked out the gym. We've got a battle in four days."

"Really? You looking into the whole trainer lifestyle?" his father asked.

"…I don't really know," he admitted. "I mean, I was thinking about going to work over here - maybe for the Silph HQ in Mahogany… But, I'm not so sure right now. I guess I'll see what the girls want to do." His father nodded, but said nothing.

For the next few days, he trained the best that he could with the girls. Though he knew that Clair would only use weaker Pokémon against him, he felt that they were in for a rough time. Elise knew quick attack, swift, bite, charm, and sand attack, whereas Charlotte knew ember, tail whip, flame charge, and psybeam. Even though they had trained a fair amount and had even learned new moves, he wasn't sure if they could cut it, and he dreaded the very idea of either of them getting hurt. But the day of the battle arrived, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Of course, that was the day he decided to embrace the trainer life.

He was nervous as their fight began, as he found Charlotte pitted against a dratini - a dratini that knew aqua tail. Her fire moves would prove ineffective in stopping it, and so she would have to rely on ranged attacks with psybeam. Even though he was unsure of himself as a trainer, unsure of their abilities as a team, she showed complete confidence. That's when he realized - he owed it to them to advise them in the best manner possible, so he stepped up. Though he, quite frankly, had no idea what he was doing, he did his best. Charlotte, over the course of a few minutes, heeded his warning and stayed a fair distance away from the dratini, pulling away as he tried to advance. Never close enough for an aqua tail, he got frustrated and impatient, and began using dragon rage repetitively. One impacted her, almost making her collapse - it was a powerful move at their level, after all. But, she managed to impact him with another psybeam at closer proximity, and he fainted. A bagon took its place right after it was recalled.

"Impressive. You managed to overcome a type disadvantage in your first battle," Clair said. "Now let's see if you can finish what you started." Charlotte was noticeably tired, but refused to back out. Instead, she managed to land a few hits on her opponent before a harsh Headbutt sent her to the ground. She tried to get up, but Michael would not allow her to continue, much to her dismay.

"Look girl, you've already done over half the work, and regardless of what you think, you are not fit to continue battling. Let's leave the rest of this to Elise, okay?" With a sigh, she nodded, letting Elise take her place. Michael ordered her to pick the bagon off at a distance with swift, and nail its side with a quick attack when it came closer. The strategy worked well enough at first, but the bagon adapted, hitting her with a headbutt as she came in close. Then, getting a new idea, Michael decided to try it out. As the bagon readied a dragon breath attack, he commanded Elise to use sand attack. She did, and the cloud of dust impacted the bagon's face, sending the attack off course, and disrupting her vision. With her opponent unable to attack, Elise was able to end it with a final quick attack. Overjoyed at their victory, both girls lunged into Michael, who had readied himself as soon as he saw them charging.

"I must say, you winning your first battle against me of all people is quite a shocker," Clair said.

"Well, they did all the work," he said, rubbing their heads. "I just kinda stood here."

"Not quite. A trainer is to provide support to his team, and develop a strategy that will grant them victory as effectively as possible. You seem to be very capable of that."

"Thanks, but I still don't think I did that much."

"Well, regardless of what you think, you still did earn a badge." Clair held out her hand, presenting the Rising Badge to him, the proof of their triumph over her. He took the badge, and not having any trainer gear, simply pocketed it.

"You two did great," he told Elise and Charlotte, rubbing them affectionately.

"It's rare that a challenger defeats me at any level. I'd say that you're an eligible candidate to take the test."

"Test? What test?"

"It's an exam that's held in Dragon's Den - only those given clearance may enter. It's an honor to be selected."

"I…I don't know what to say…" he stuttered.

"Then don't say anything - just take it. I think you would do very well," she said.

"Alright…I'll do it. Where is Dragon's Den? It's been so long that I've forgotten."

"It's a good ways behind the gym, right up against the mountain. Can't miss it if you're in the area. I'll be sure to contact the guard - he'll let you in when he sees you."

"I think I'll do it. Hope it isn't anything to rigorous," he said. "I just started all this."

"It isn't - it's more so an ideological evaluation. I'm sure you'll do fine." After receiving his winnings, which totaled Ᵽ500, and exchanging numbers with Clair in case they wanted a rematch, he walked back outside. His dad had been awaiting his return, pulled up at the side of the street, window rolled down. As Michael and the two girls approached, he snuffed out a cigarette.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"We won. The girls did an amazing job out there," he replied.

"Wait, you actually won? Against Clair?"

"Yeah, we beat her," he said, showing him the badge as proof to his visibly surprised father.

"I don't believe it - she's the hardest gym leader in the region…"

"Yeah, but we fought against her low leveled team - not her usual team that screws trainers over. Anyways," Michael continued, "I'll be taking some sort of test in Dragon's Den. I was thinking I could head over there tomorrow. Mind if I borrow the truck?"

"Not at all, what time?" he asked.

"Ehh, maybe around 3:00?"

"Alright, sure thing."

Soon after, they departed, heading first to the pokécenter. He got both of the girls checked, finding only a few bruises here and there. Nothing that a little bit of rest wouldn't take care of. They left towards home, His father teased him about how overly affectionate the two girls were, comparing them to 'pups always wanting to be held.' I don't see a problem with that, he thought as he rubbed behind Elise's ears.

That night, he slept between the two, as had become their usual routine. Before he fell asleep, he found himself seriously considering pursuing a trainer campaign. Who said he had to go straight into the work force? Hell, this was his first real break ever since graduating, and it had been some of the most enjoyable time he could remember. Both the girls and he had loved every second of the battle - the intensity, the anticipation, and he found himself wanting to do it again. He would have to stock up on trainer supplies, as he only had his license and his pokédex, but that could be settled with a trip to the pokémart. he figured he would give it a shot if the two girls wanted to try it.

. . . . .

The following morning, after breakfast, he gave his two canines the proposition. It took all of about three seconds for them to yip out their approval.

"Well, I guess that settles it," he laughed. "I'll see if I can get the truck a bit earlier - that way, we can get the supplies we need before it gets dark." With a bit of coaxing to his father, Michael's request was fulfilled. He opted towards getting a much larger backpack, as he would probably need it for holding all their equipment, food, and items. He bought some potions, antidotes, and repels - the items most likely to be useful on their voyage. Also, he decided to buy treats for the girls - candies specifically designed for Pokémon, as he felt they deserved something extra. A large, portable, dark green tent that was on clearance completed his transaction, and left him slightly broker than before the gym battle. Not that he was particularly worried - with these two, he felt confident that they would have enough prize money coming in to survive, and pokécenters offered free lodging for trainers, so it wasn't like they'd be paying for everything.

After they left the store, they went back to the gym, this time heading behind it. He did find humor in the girls' action, in sticking their heads outside the window to catch the wind. Ever since Elise joined, they've been getting along so well with one another. They act like sisters, doing everything with one another. Hopefully any more newcomers will be the same way. He parked the truck, the entrance to Dragon's Den in view, a new, stone bridge granting passage to the once isolated shore against the mountain. The fennekin and eevee darted out, allowing him to shut and lock up the vehicle. As he approached the entrance, the guard spoke up.

"Only specified people may enter," he said. "What is your name?"

"Michael Higgs. Clair told me to come here after we beat her."

"Oh, you're that kid that defeated Clair the other day. You have been granted entry," the guard responded. Eyeing the revolver, he continued. "There is no way you're old enough to have that."

"Graduated from Kalos," Michael replied. "Considered an adult on the grounds of being able to enter the work force." He could already foresee having to offer that explanation dozens of times in the future…

"…Alright… but you better behave with it in there - don't piss off the dragons."

"I won't," he promised. He wouldn't dream of instigating a fight with anything in there - a magnum was powerful, but so was a dragon. The guard stepped aside, and Michael could faintly see the outline of a compact pistol at his right side. They're definitely prepared to defend the place if need be… Walking inside the cave, he and the girls took in the scenery. Stalagmites peaked through the water, forming a set of stony jaws with their ceiling-dwelling counterparts. The water seemed unnatural - almost living, as a mysterious current brought about movement. The walls were aligned with carvings and symbols, etched in with claws, as evident by the scratch marks surrounding. It had formerly been home to only members of the dratini line, but now housed a variety of species. A pair of garchomps, alongside two gibles, glared at him as he walked along, making the girls hide around his other side. Definitely creepy as hell… He approached the dock, a small rowing boat tied to the end of the post. Another guard came from behind him, walking past towards the boat.

"Here to take the test?" he asked without looking.

"Yeah, that's the plan." He motioned for him to step into the boat. Michael did so, making the wooden vessel rock back and forth in the water. The guard stepped in, and soon they were floating towards the Dragon Shrine, curving around the side. For some reason, they were avoiding the front entrance of the building, opting to go around to the back instead.

"Why are we heading around back?" he asked, meeting the gaze of a dragonair in the water, though it quickly swam away.

"That half is reserved for another purpose," he simply stated. The boat pulled up to the dock of the Dragon Shrine, and he got off. Two guards, standing in front of the double wooden doors, stepped aside. Before he could make his way through the door, one of the two stopped him.

"I don't mean to be intrusive, but…" he motioned to the revolver.

"Ah, sorry," Michael apologized. It definitely wouldn't be appropriate to open carry into the ranks of the Dragon Master. "Would you like me to leave it here?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all," he replied, removing the holster from his belt and handing him the weapon.

"Thank you for understanding. You may go in now." With the final clearance, he entered the building. The girls stayed quiet and close to his feet as he made his way to the Dragon Master. He wore a crimson robe, embroidered with silver and ivory designs, portraying basic shapes of dragon types.

"So," he began, "you're the trainer with the rising potential?"

"Seems like it," he admitted. "But a trainer is nothing without the pokémon - these two lovely ladies are the real reason we won," he said, motioning to the girls, who seemed to adopt a slight blush.

"A modest one," the master trailed off. "Humility is the quality of a great leader. Never lose that."

"Well, no need to take credit for something I didn't do."

"True. Now let's get started…"

. . . . .

It had taken longer than he had hoped, being asked a series of questions that seemed to require a lecture each to answer. Finally, though, the last question was asked.

"Strong pokémon. Weak pokémon. Which is more important?" he asked.

"I… I don't think there's a correct answer to that…"

"What do you mean?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, I don't think there is such a thing as a weak pokémon. All pokémon have potential for strength, but if they are 'weak,' then that is a result of their trainer failing them, not providing the correct instruction and support. But at the end of the day, sometimes two pokémon aren't of the same caliber. One might have more experience, or might just be a more powerful species. That doesn't make it superior to its opponent, and it might not even grant it a victory." The Dragon Master turned away, silently walking towards a table in the back, covered with several balls.

"Your words are sincere. You have passed the test."

"I did?"

"Yes.

"…So what does that mean?" he asked, slightly confused.

"It means that you can be entrusted with a dragon," the Master replied.

"Wha- really?" He paused, before looking at the girls. "How do you two feel about having another companion?" The two looked at each other, then nodded. Even though his journey as a trainer had just begun, he was already building up quite the team. "Which species?"

"Because you have shown wisdom in your answers, I will leave that choice to you." He motioned to the vast amount of pokéballs. "Currently with me, I have several bagons, a gible, a couple of goomies, a trapinch, and of course, many dratinis." He thought the options over to himself, carefully considering his choice.

"I think I'd like the trapinch." A flygon, he reasoned, would be a great addition to the team in the sheer diversity of its moveset.

"Alright, but I only think that it would be fair to warn you about something… something regarding this particular trapinch."

"What is it?" Michael asked, curious as to what could be wrong with it.

"She had a previous trainer that abandoned her here. Said that she was too much trouble for what she was worth."

"She was abandoned?"

"Yes. I'm not sure what she may have done, but the former trainer was in a rush to leave her here. That was five years ago."

"That's sad to hear. I'll definitely take her then."

"I'm sure she will be most appreciative," the Master said, handing him the worn ball. He turned away, leaving the ceremonial room, once more in the open cave. The guard who had been holding his revolver handed it back to him.

As he left the cave, he decided to release their new teammate. The trapinch materialized before them, appearing somewhat dazed by her surroundings. Michael knelt down to her level, her ball in hand. She looked at him.

"Hey there, I'm your new trainer. I heard about what happened with your last trainer, and I can assure you that I won't ever abandon you like that. I'll do whatever I can to make you happy." She looked at him intensely, before taking a single step forth. He held his hand low, attempting to coax her into approaching more, so that he could pet her. She drew close, but instead of going to his hand, she simply nudged the central button of her ball, which encompassed her once more. Alright… so far not the social type… Surely, this would be a difficult one.

. . . . .

Veronica proved to be just that, but after a few months of traveling with them, she had warmed up to the team, and had been the first to evolve. That, coincidentally enough, was during their gym battle against Whitney and her infamous miltank. She had managed to win them the badge, and trusted fully in Michael's abilities as a trainer and in herself from that point onward. They stuck around in Goldenrod, feeling that they all deserved a break from their extensive traveling. That was what allowed for them to meet Layla - the riolu that he had met under much darker circumstances that the rest of his team.

The night after the gym battle they went straight to bed - they were exhausted. The following day they went out and celebrated their victory with a nice dinner. They were all quite the team, and with victories being practically guaranteed, money was no longer an issue at all. As he walked home that night, he opted to put them in their balls, as the walk to the hotel wasn't far. The distinct sound of yelling caught his attention as he traversed the nearly empty back-roads. Deciding to investigate, he traced the origin of the sound, which came from a nearby alleyway.

"Stupid bitch!" a voice sounded. What the? A figure, sporting long, lightly torn khaki pants and a plain checkered shirt stood towards the end of the alley, in front of a dead end. He was clutching a slightly bent piece of rebar in his hand, the metal rod over a foot and a half in length. "After all I've done for you, , you still won't evolve?!" The sound of whimpering being the only response. He was hurting someone, and Michael wasn't going to stand by and let it happen. He began to make his way towards the man, mentally sizing him up. The man was much taller than him, but had a lankier build, looking to be in his mid-thirties. Before Michael could reach him, he brought the rebar down on its target, impacting his victim and making it cry out. He raised the metal rod as quickly as he had struck, readying for another. Michael caught his arm and heaved him back, away from the pokémon. A quick glance told him that it was a riolu, and had a clearly broken foot.

"Don't do that," Michael angrily said.

"Or what?" the man spat, regaining his footing. Michael thought quickly about the situation and how to put an end to it. He knew what he had to do, and prayed that he had the courage to do so. But what if he couldn't do it? Inaction at this point could very well get him or the riolu hurt or killed. Keeping that in mind, he upholstered the 686 at his side, pointing it at the man, who immediately stiffened up.

"Boy, you don't have the balls to pull that trigger," he stated.

"Don't bet on that," Michael warned. The man must have sensed the unease in his voice, and quickly stepped towards him. Though he was frightened, a thunderous sound echoed from the walls, permeating into the city night. Somehow, Michael didn't hear it. It was soon followed by a scream of pain. The man stopped in his tracks, grasping his wrist and shaking, and looked down to survey the damage. Michael kept his revolver loaded with hollow point ammunition - ideal for self defense in that it spread out rapidly in the body. That, combined with the sheer velocity of a .357 magnum round, produced quite the wound. He had hit the aggressor's right hand, near the ring finger - or where the ring finger had been. A gaping hole had taken the place of its knuckle, splintering bone outwards, and leaving the two adjacent fingers dangling by sinew and shredded muscle. Blood trailed steadily down.

"You little shit!" he yelled, trying to hide the pain in his voice, but to no avail. He rushed forth, trying to close the distance between them, which was but a few feet. Before he could reach Michael, another shot cut him off, and he fell on his side. He screamed out even louder and clutched his right knee. The yells sounded sickening to Michael, but he cared more about protecting both the riolu and himself than the man's suffering. This round had blown out his knee cap and the entire joint, which protruded out the crook of the back of his knee. Unable to withhold the tears of agony streaming down his face, he looked up at Michael, coming face-to-face with the barrel of the revolver. Michael had no trace of sympathy on his face.

"Still think I won't do it?" he asked the grunting man, who shook his head rapidly. He was more effective at hiding the terror in his own voice, but as things stood, Michael guessed that the man on the ground was far more scared than he was. "You're not as dumb as you look. Now hand over her ball," he ordered.

"W-what?" the man stammered.

"I said hand over her ball," Michael repeated. "Or did I stutter?" he said, pulling the hammer back.

"No! Please!" the man wailed. He fished an ultra ball out of his pocket and rolled it towards him. "T-take her, just please don't kill me." Michael picked up the ball and looked at it, then at the riolu, who was looking at the scene in fear. He returned his attention to the fallen aggressor, who was trying to crawl away.

"Don't move another inch."

"Wh-what? I gave you what you wanted!"

"Not fully," Michael said, keeping the gun pointed at him. "I'm sure someone called the cops after two gunshots went off. We're gonna wait for them to arrive, and have a nice chat with them about everything that happened here." After saying that, he turned to the riolu. "Listen, I'm going to put you in your ball for now. We'll sort everything out later, and get you medical attention as soon as possible." She nodded, still trembling, before he returned her.

Sure enough, the cops did arrive, aggressively commanding Michael to lower his weapon, and even going so far as to cuff him and confiscate the revolver. He understood why, though - it was just precautionary. After being fully cooperative with the cops, and proving that the gun was legally registered and his, they released him. He explained everything that happened, a story that they fully believed upon seeing the riolu and her hurt state, as well as matching the man up to past criminal records. She was immediately taken to the pokécenter for treatment, while he stayed back to finish his report. Of course, the officers were awestruck at the entirety of it - a sixteen year old had both apprehended and captured a criminal - one involved with several cases of domestic violence and a bad history with alcohol.

He couldn't sleep much that night. The girls tried to comfort him, portraying the message as best as they could that he did nothing wrong. It wasn't what he did, per se, but what he could have done that brought him unease. It was so easy…almost instinctual, to pull that trigger… He had not been aiming the first time, firing it as soon as the man showed his intentions. The second time, though…he fully calculated it, targeting his knee so that he would no longer be a threat. It was so simple, so easy, and could end a life in just the blink of an eye. Such was the nature of a firearm. But the firearm wasn't the weapon - it was the tool. The one to pull the trigger was the weapon, and he had been able to do so without any hesitation. Would he have been able to pull the trigger a third time - at his head? After the first shot, the other was just too easy. He had no doubt in his mind that he could have followed through if need be. That was one of the things that made him nervous.

The other, of course, was the state of the riolu. Clearly he had to have been an abusive trainer - his record practically confirmed that, as well as the scene that he had just witnessed. Is she going to be alright? He couldn't get her scared face - her pained expressions and whimpers - out of his head. He figured that he would check on her in the morning…or in five hours, since it was past four already.

. . . . .

When he woke up, he abode by his mental promise to himself. After fixing a quick breakfast for the girls and himself, they rushed to the pokécenter. With a somewhat brisk pace, he approached the receptionist up front.

"May I help you?" she kindly asked.

"Yes - the cops dropped off a riolu last night. I wanted to check on how she's doing," he replied.

"Oh? So you're that boy that shot the abusive trainer last night?" she asked, looking to the gun at his side.

"Errr… yeah, that would be me," he admitted.

"We got the report earlier today," she said.

"Oh…"

"I guess we should thank you. He'll be behind bars for a long time, and you helped get two other pokémon out of a horrible situation."

"He had others?" he asked.

"Yeah, but not any more. When he gets out in like twenty years or whatever, he won't even be allowed so many feet away from this center. He will never own another pokémon, so his days of abuse are over."

"That's good to hear," Michael said. He hadn't thought about it like that, but his action did keep him from continuing to hurt the riolu, so that only made sense. It actually felt kind of good - once he got over the fact that he had shot a man - to know that he had done something that had saved someone.

"She's in room four, right down that hallway," she said, pointing towards one of two hallways - the one at the right of the desk. "I think the nurse is still in there with her, so you might have to wait outside the door for a few."

"Alright, thanks a lot." He made his way over to the designated room, and sat in one of the chairs opposite to the door. Charlotte and Elise hopped into the seat beside him, while Veronica simply sat on the ground on his other side. Being close to four feet tall, she was level to him when he sat. Absentmindedly, he rubbed along her back, right above her wing joints. She released a purring sound, approving of his action, and shifted slightly to give him a better angle. Moments later, the door opened, the nurse emerging. He stood up.

"Are you here to visit?" she asked.

"Yes, I wanted to see how she was doing after what happened last night."

"Well, her foot was fractured," she said, pressing down against a crease in her dress. I expected that much, he thought. "But that should only take a few weeks to heal. Other than that, she will be fine - thanks to you, that is. Go on in. I'm sure she'd be delighted to see you." And with that, she was off, likely to help with another patient. Slowly, he walked through, followed by his team. The riolu was laying down, propped up against a pillow that was a large as she was, foot wrapped within a hard cast.

"H-hey," he stuttered, pulling up a chair to the side of her bed. "Just wanted to see how you were holding up." She growled, her anger not directed at him, but at her immobility. She looked back at him, though, and gave a slight, timid smile. She spread her arms as widely as her small frame would allow. He stooped in, receiving her embrace and returning one of his own. She surprised him by planting a small kiss on his cheek. Pulling away, he decided to give her the proposal.

"I was wondering…" he began, somewhat quietly, "if you would like to join our team." She nodded, happy as though nothing had happened… as though her foot wasn't broken… He held out the ultra ball. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to give you a new one. That way, you won't have anything left over from your last trainer." She nodded, and, dropping the ball, smashed it on the floor. He then pulled out a luxury ball, to which she pressed the central button, capturing herself.

She adapted very well to the team, like she had been there all along. With her foot being injured, he carried her around on his shoulders, and he obviously wouldn't let her battle. Before even a month had passed, and right after her foot had healed, she evolved into a lucario.

. . . . .

They had succeeded and, in the case of their Elite Four challenges, failed together. Those events had led him to where he was currently. The girls were his entire world, and he enjoyed every minute that he spent with them. Thinking back to those times always brought him great joy, and gave him peace that night in their Hoenn travels. However, he couldn't deny that he felt an ominous feeling, like something horrible was about to happen. No… just my wondering imagination. Just a dumb feeling… He drifted off, giving way to his exhaustion. Strange, unpleasant sensations were ever present in his dreams. Unfortunately, sometimes those dumb feelings are right…

. . . . .

He woke up, wiping the sleep out of his eyes and stretching out. Sitting up, he noticed that he was the third to awaken. With Layla, that was a common thing, as she habitually woke up earlier than the others to meditate. Charlotte was also awake, proceeding to roll up her sleeping bag. Elise was curled up into a ball, the slight rising and falling of her chest being the only evidence that she was even breathing. She always was a quite sleeper… Veronica, as usual, was dozing, her snoring not exactly subtle, but not loud enough to deny her teammates sleep… once they had gotten used to it, that is…

He took in his surroundings for a moment, simply enjoying them. The route had taken off in regards to vegetation, with thick brush inhabiting the once barren eastern half, and a forest (of which they were currently in) covering the western section. Thin streams of light poked through the treetops, placing miniature spotlights on everything below. The sun was shining brightly, but had not brought with it a sweltering heat, but rather was accompanied by a slight breeze, carrying the scent of pines to their noses. It was, without a doubt, the kind of day in which nothing could possibly go wrong.

He fixed them a quick breakfast, which woke Veronica up. Food always did the trick for her. They packed up camp and proceeded northward, It was no later than nine when that journey ceased to continue.

As they traveled along Route 111, nearing the intersection towards Routes 112 and 113, they couldn't help but notice the unease in their surroundings. The flying types were deep in chatter about something, and the bushes ruffling from the movement of wild pokémon throughout. Howls, chirps, and roars joined together to create a morbid cacophony, sending a chilling vibe through him. This time, he couldn't suppress his discomfort, and unconsciously gripped his revolver, not taking any chances. Finally, he noticed a lone sandshrew scurrying about, visibly distraught about something.

"Hey!" Michael called out, getting his attention. "What's going on? It sounds like a war out there." The sandshrew… had tears running down its face? He simply nodded, pointing straight into the woods.

"What's wrong?" he asked, anticipating whatever the answer to his question was, though it wasn't a positive anticipation. The sandshrew simply motioned for them to follow, albeit uncertainly. They followed him through the woods, the frightening sounds of dozens of species getting closer with each step. Their path led over heavily trampled grounds and cleared brush.

Gathered around were what seemed like hundreds of wild pokémon, all staring at the sight that they were about to witness, none paying them the least bit of attention.

It wasn't clear what had taken place there, but it was the most gruesome thing he had witnessed nonetheless. Michael had thought that Layla's ex-trainer had been one of the pinnacles of evilness - beating a small, defenseless riolu like that. He reasoned that, in order for someone to do such a thing, they had to have no conscience - simply put. But that seemed to hold nothing in comparison to the sheer cruelty that he saw before him now.

He dropped to his knees and lost his breakfast - the gruesome scenery, and especially the sheer stench, proved too much for him. Nobody seemed to notice. How could anyone do anything even remotely like this?

Some innumerable amount of bodies littered the ground, not a single one stirring. The lifeless carcasses of both humans and pokémon were spread about, with most of the surrounding grass painted in dried blood. The ones that still had recognizable faces wore twisted expressions of terror, shock, and most of all, pain.

The first individuals that he had looked at was the group of machokes. Shackled together at the necks and wrists, all of them sported bullet holes through their torsos. They were among the few "lucky" ones to be killed in such a quick way. Michael would never fully forgive himself for continuing to look around.

A small family of eevees gazed lifelessly towards where their murderers had likely once stood, most having fallen victim to flames, and several with stab wounds. A nidoqueen, near a downed nidoking, remained chained to a tree, her abdominal cavity cleanly sliced open and spilling her entrails into a rotting pile. Various cuts and burns along her body pointed to torture, and her mate had been forced to watch, unable to do a thing about it with both of his knees shot out. Beside them was a ninetales laying in a wrangled mess, her once luxurious tales frayed and bloodied. She was adjacent a gardevoir, whose natural dress had been torn to shreds. The sick feeling in his stomach multiplied when he realized that these two, along with several others, showed the mutilations of rape. A female charizard - or what was left of one - lay before three charmanders. Her wings and body were riddled with bullets, and she also displayed the signs of sexual assault. Thick yet short brass cases littered the ground, claiming responsibility to the huge gaping holes in their bodies.

Off in the corner of the clearing was a low-laying pile of bodies. Despite him knowing the names of each and every species, they looked nothing of the sort. Not after what had been done to them. Parts of their bodies - those that could go for money on the black market - had been removed strategically. He knew their anatomies, but seeing it exposed in reality was something entirely different from a textbook. Every muscle was revealed on the milotic after they had stripped her hide off.

Several cages had been left by those in charge, faithfully doing their job in keeping their prisoners contained - though that wasn't difficult any more. The inhabitants had been starters, only recognizable by trace amounts of fur, claws, or the deformed body shapes. The floor was stained black from the fires that had been set within, potent enough to kill the water and fire types just as easily as the grass.

And yet, this wasn't just a casualty for large amounts of pokémon. Dozens of humans had been shot towards the back, connected together much like the machokes. All of them were visibly starved, wearing next to nothing, and several sported deep gashes on their backs. None of them looked like they had taken a bath in weeks, even with their decaying states underway. Most had been shot in the back of the heads, with barely any brain within. More thick, short cases - .50 AEs.

He didn't remember much after that, though he did know that he was the one to call the cops. He did, admittedly, break down - right in front of his team and all the wild pokémon. Nobody seemed to be judging, though, and he certainly wasn't alone in the matter. He definitely wasn't concerned about keeping a "manly" demeanor portrayed, feeling rather that anyone that could actually do so lacked a heart. They helped where they could, but stayed as far as possible away from the bodies. Not that it mattered, anyways - they had ingrained their images into his mind. And no matter what he did, he could never truly help the victims.

It became known as the Hoenn Massacre, and it was committed by ghosts. They were clearly traffickers, terrorists that had purged the regions of inhabitants. Most of the people had been wandering trainers - just like him - and most of the pokémon wild. Their targets were those more prone to going missing, so they had covered themselves well. Over three hundred fell victim to the slaughter. From what they could tell, the traffickers had been running low in supplies, having cut across the region from Mt. Chimney, and simply killed off the "cargo" that was not likely to survive the rest of the trip. They left, continuing towards the sea. Michael and girls lost the drive to continue their campaign, fleeing the region back to Johto before it could go into a state of emergency, which could very well call for a quarantine. He ran away from it all, but it would never leave him.

He became an insomniac, spending many nights just staring at the living room ceiling, wondering why he of all people had to stumble across such an atrocity. The bodies haunted his dreams and every waking hour. He couldn't begin to imagine what had gone through their heads in their last moments.

It was a horrible reality slap. Somehow, there really were people that were that much of monsters… Now, people across the regions would live in fear of what lurked shadows. And there was nothing that he could do about it…

A bizarre, small thought manifested itself in the corner of his mind, and he looked into it. Technically, there was something he could do about it. But how would he hold up? He knew his way around guns, and had very good protective instincts, but could he cut it? Getting up, he slipped into his room, quietly, and took out his laptop, and slipped back out. He took a seat back on the couch, deciding to do some research to sate his curiosity. Scrolling through his results, he clicked on one link, figuring his possibilities. Just then, Elise walked into the room and hopped onto the couch beside him.

"You couldn't sleep either?" She shook her head, and laid down on her back, with her head in his lap. "Alright, fine." He conceded to her wish, set his laptop aside and rubbed her belly. She began nuzzling into his stomach affectionately. Bringing his hands higher, he tickled under her sides and neck, making her giggle and squirm to escape. Her noise level increased, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Seeing her laugh brought a slight smile to his face, despite the emptiness he now felt inside. Before he could continue, though, she shot up and tackled him onto his back. Pinning her trainer down, Elise settled on top of him and nuzzled into his neck. He reached around her, hugging the slightly heavy glaceon against him. He felt her tail rapidly wagging, making him feel the breeze on his legs. The glaceon darted up and gave his nose a swift lick. "Thank you. I needed that," he said, kissing her cheek. He thought back to the slaughter, thought about the hatred he would feel if anyone even tried to touch his girls, and knew that he would kill them without hesitation or remorse. He decided, at that point, that he would try to help put an end to whoever was doing this. I'll tell them tomorrow, he thought. With her there, and with his mind made up, he was finally able to get some rest.

. . . . .

He went over the thoughts in his head, waiting for the others to wake up. How exactly was he going to tell them? He took a cold shower to better focus himself, wondering if this was truly the right decision for all of them - after all, he wouldn't dream of leaving the girls behind. This choice would greatly affect them all, and there might not be any going back after he made this decision. Michael had given a great deal of thought to which division of the military he would be interested in joining. Johto had the best military in all of the regions - generally what one could expect from a strongly conservative society. The options included the army, the navy, and the air force, with several more specific groups under each category. He wasn't considering joining just any of them, though. Rather, he had taken an interest in Blackthorn's very own army special forces unit - officially called the Reconnaissance and Preemptive Engagement Regiment, abbreviated as the Reapers. Nobody really knew the things they did, as they always kept their business a secret. They apparently specialized in counter-terrorism, so he figured that if any force would grant him a shot at those responsible for the massacre, the Reapers would be it.

He went into his bedroom and, after thinking everything through, called for them. In a moment, each of them stood before him, eager to hear what he had to say.

"I wanted to talk to you girls about something," he began. "No doubt all those deaths had been weighing heavily on your minds." A short nod from each of them confirmed this. "It's horrible how there are people out there like that. Well, I've been thinking… that I'd like to make sure that those kinds of things don't happen anymore." Layla tilted her head in response, wondering at what he could possibly do about the situation. "Girls, I think I want to join the military." All of them went wide-eyed in shock. All of them tried to say something to him, though there was no way he could understand them.

"I know it will be a huge change from what we're used to… and I don't know if I'll even be able to cut it… but I want to try. I'm not going to do anything, though, that you all don't want to. I think its only fair to give you all a say in this, since it will be affecting all of us." For a moment, none of them made a sound, probably considering their next course of action. Finally, Charlotte stepped forth, placing a hand on his leg. She looked at him and nodded. One by one, they agreed to the proposition.

That week, he packed his bags, and, despite his parents' pleading not to, signed up to join the army. He never told them where he had really gone.

. . . . .

That led him to where he was now, months later, trying to battle against his own body in a fight of perseverance. He had held up well until that point, learning combat skills, better marksmanship, and stealth techniques. He had excelled in all of these areas, but right now, nobody was excelling. Now they were going through "Elimination Month" - which was named accordingly. In a final push towards filtering out the strong from the weak, the instructors had designed the most mentally and physically tormenting program possible, set to push them to their limits in the coldness of the mountains during winter. The altitude, the frigid air, and the sheer torment of the course served to dwindle the numbers in the group. One by one, he watched many of the people he had trained with for months drop out of the program. If they wanted to re-attempt, they would have to try again next year. Many of them already had some sort of military experience, and almost every single one was older than him. All but one - a friend who had moved to Johto not long after he had returned. Feeling much like Michael after hearing about the massacre in Hoenn, Alex had opted to join with him, as he and his family moved there due to the way Kalos was politically heading. Although, Michael thought, he probably isn't too happy with that decision now…

"Get up!" the instructor shouted, before making his way towards his favorite individual to pick on - Samuel was his name. He had not uttered a word that was not mandatory, never showed any sign of weakness or pain. The instructor, Michael just knew, was frustrated that there was nothing he could do to even remotely get to him. He pointed to the latest individual to drop out of the program. "This quitter looks really warm inside that truck, doesn't he?" Just as he had said, the most recent to give up had been taken into one of the supervisor's vehicles, immediately being inspected for signs of hypothermia and injury while they were all suffering. No… only physically comfortable… He wasn't even able to look up at them, ashamed that he had not been able to continue. "Who wants to join him?" The instructor did not yell, but the eerie calm in his tone was far more intimidating than screaming in their faces could have possible been. Nobody responded to his question. "Is that the case?" he snarled. "Well then, everyone on your backs - leg raises!"

Back to the cold ground. They laid on their backs, losing any warmth that they had worked up, and straightened their legs. They lifted their legs up the required height - six inches - and struggled to hold it. The instructor, to their dismay, didn't tell them to lower, so they had to hold the position. Pretty soon, he started quivering, his abs burning. His legs felt like massive weights, begging to be set down and rest, but he wouldn't oblige them.

"Down!" Grunting, they dropped their legs, savoring the few precious seconds of rest they had received. Of course, it only was a few seconds… "Up!" Barely able to continue, Michael raised his legs once more. This… this was hell.

---

A/N:

That about sums up the first chapter. This was definitely a longer chapter, I know. The chapters are organized by the events that happen in the stories, not any set by word count. Some chapters will be long, some will be "short" (by short, I mean 4-5K words).

Anyways, please leave suggestions and responses in the review section. I will gladly read over every one, and thank those of you that do leave a review for your time and thoughts.

Now, one thing that I have been asked about. It probably seems odd that Sycamore was shocked with Michael's decision. That will be important, but not now. Just be sure to remember it for later.