Title: Borders

Pairing: Red & Lyra/Kotone (SoulfulHeartShipping… eventually)

Rating: T for some blood/violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.

Chapter One: He Accepts

There was someone following him. He was sure of it.

His crimson eyes scanned the vehicles to his left. Then to his right. He breathed in.

There were two of them. And they were hot on his trail.

He exhaled, his warm breath sticking to the visor of his helmet. His foot impatiently tapped the brake as he waited for the signal to turn green. The sun was setting and traffic was deep into rush hour. His ruby gaze outlined the area; the crowded bustling streets and the exhausted parents on their way home.

It wasn't until he noticed a third one that he revved the engine of his bike, listened to its mighty roar, and ran a red light.

He was determined to escape them.

He dodged a rusty truck, a minivan, and a cab in the hopes that it would give him the edge against his stalkers. He glanced back to see if the chase was off. They were out of sight, but he didn't count it as a victory just yet. As an extra precaution, he turned a couple of corners and roamed a few dark alleys he was all too familiar with.

—

No Pokémon allowed.

Red clenched his teeth. The mere sight of the ungraceful wooden billboard made him sick. Plastered to the side of the entrance for all to see and obey. He resisted the urge to tear it down. His eyes trailed up to the glaring neon sign, alternating between orange and blue.

The Dragon's Lair

Saffron City's most popular basement bar; Green Oak's home away from home.

Red groaned. This wasn't his kind of place. This was a place for social busy bees—and the occasional weirdos—who needed a spot to loosen up after a hard day of work—or partying. Not for an anti-social, mountain-dwelling ex-champ.

It wasn't like he had much of a choice though. He pushed away his anxiety as he marched down the steep flight of steps.

Once inside, he blinked a few times, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There were some dim lava lamps scattered around the wooden tables—possibly the only source of light. The smell of liquor lingered accompanied by some classic rock coming from a colorful, glossy jukebox. The long ebony bar was packed with patrons, all of whom were probably regulars. Their jaded expressions proved they'd been there for a bit too long.

Red slid onto an empty bar stool beside a couple of older men. The bartender, a young woman with tousled blond hair, caught sight of him and hurried over.

She gave him a wink. "Can I get you something?"

He glared at her—unintentionally—before clearing his throat to speak. "No. I'm waiting for someone."

"I—I see." She seemed offended but quickly returned to her routine, serving a customer on the other side of the bar.

Red rested his arm on the counter, drumming his fingers in annoyance. The man beside him, who was visibly drunk, slammed his beer mug against the table.

"Those damned Johto-folks!" he hollered. "If they would just surrender, I'd still have a job!"

Another man, who also appeared to be drunk, albeit less than the previous, slammed his mug against the table—only harder. "Relax. They've got nothing on us," he said after taking a chug of his drink. "Kanto's got Lt. Surge. He's going to make sure we crush them."

Red pulled the brim of his cap over his eyes. This was by far the last thing he wanted to hear. It seemed as though wherever he went, someone was badmouthing Johto or discussing the ins and outs of the war.

A war that seemed so pointless yet so inevitable.

He felt a pat on his back followed by a chuckle he'd heard far too many times. "Look who we have here."

He turned to see Green making himself comfortable on the bar stool next to his. His auburn hair messier than usual, his jacket completely unzipped, and his eyes gleaming with smug confidence.

"Oak."

"Red." He nodded at him. "I see you got my message."

Red grumbled as the drunk man to his right began singing along to the jukebox music. "Couldn't you have picked a better spot for us to meet up at?"

"Nope." Green ran a hand through his hair, clearly amused by the drunk's antics. "Honestly, I'm surprised you showed up at all." His green eyes observed Red's blank expression. "Did Mt. Silver get too boring for you?"

"Not really," he answered. "I actually plan on going back soon."

Green smirked. "It's been over a year since we've last talked and you're already in a hurry to go back? You haven't changed one bit."

"I'm sick of hearing about this war."

"That makes two of us." Green rested his chin on his fist. "The ban on Pokémon battling leaves every gym leader out of a job. It's ridiculous. Both regions are breaking into factions, each having different ways to go about this insanity. Since battling is against the law, people are resorting to gun violence."

Red shook his head. "It's pointless. All of this."

"No kidding. I bet the new Team Rocket is somehow involved. They've got both Kanto and Johto wrapped around their little finger."

Red was tempted to ask more but noticed the bartender staring at them, no doubt eavesdropping for some juicy conspiracy gossip. Instead, he decided to drop the topic. "So why did you call me down here?"

"Ah, right…" Green snapped his fingers and reached deep into his pockets. Red watched him pull out a pack of cigarettes from one and a lighter from another.

"Green…"

Green placed one of the cigarettes to his lips and lit it in a flash. He took a draw and released a gust of smoke from his mouth. "Hm?"

With a quick wave of his gloved hand, Red dispelled the puff of secondhand smoke.

"You smoke?"

"Heh, yeah. Bad habit I picked up recently." He grinned as he slipped the lighter back into his pocket. "Anyway, there's something important I wanted to talk to you about."

Red remembered the car chase from earlier and figured it'd be best to confide in someone. "Yeah, me too."

"Oh, really? Do tell," he said, feigning excitement. "Mine can wait."

Red shifted in his seat. He pondered it for a moment. How could he word it without sounding completely insane? "Lately… I feel like there've been people following me… everywhere I go."

"Oh?" Green stifled a laugh.

He narrowed his red eyes. "I'm serious. It just happened today—on my way here. There were a few people following me in their cars."

Green touched his chin as if he were thinking it through. "Maybe it's Team Rocket out for revenge."

"You really think so?"

"Or your lack of human interaction has caused you to start hallucinating."

"Shut up."

Green let out a dry chuckle. "Giovanni is dead, you know." His expression changed from playful to serious in a mere nanosecond. "Maybe they think you killed him."

Red blinked. "What? He's dead?"

He nodded. "I don't know all the details. That was simply what I heard when I took up the post at Viridian Gym."

He dug around in his pocket once more, pulling out a shiny, metallic card. He held it up in front of Red's face. "Listen, I want you to have this."

Red watched him place it on the counter. "A pass?"

"It's a Magnet Train pass, yes." Green took another drag of his cigarette as his jade eyes darted between Red and the pass. "Come to Johto, Red. I've started a resistance group there. I could really use someone like you."

He stared at him wide-eyed. Why would he become a part of something like that? He had no interest—no desire. All he wanted to do was return to Mt. Silver and wait safely until it was all over.

Red shook his head. "No way."

Green, who realized convincing him was not going to be easy, straightened himself upright. "Oh, c'mon. I know you're dying to battle again. My group is working against the law. We're standing up to this war. You and I have the same views on this matter and I want you to join. You are the champion after all."

"No, I'm not the champion. I resigned. I want nothing to do with the war, so forget it."

"You can't just quit being champion, Red. That's not how it works."

"I'm not joining, Green."

He acknowledged Red's stubbornness and pointed to the pass. "The Magnet Train runs from Saffron City to Goldenrod City. If you change your mind, meet me there. Traveling between Kanto and Johto isn't exactly safe these days, so be careful." Green tossed his half-finished cigarette onto the floor and stamped on it. "I know you're as eager as I am to see an end to all of this nonsense—" He was cut off by a vibration in his jacket's front pocket.

To Red's relief, Green pulled out a cell phone and held it to his ear. "Hello?" he answered. He paused for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed in irritation. He glanced at Red. "Yeah, okay," he told the person on the other line, followed by "All right, I'll be there soon."

He grunted, quickly stuffing his phone back into his pocket. "Look, I have to go." Green stood up. "At least think about it. I'll be waiting." He headed for the front door, before halting in his steps to leave a few final words. "You're not a coward. Stop acting like one."

And with that, he was gone.

Red looked at the pass. He sighed.

—

Empty.

The train was almost empty. Not counting himself, there were two other passengers on board. It was only natural that people would avoid traveling with the dangers looming in the area, but Red found himself wondering if either one of them was a stalker of his. Even so, they looked normal enough, so he dismissed any unwarranted suspicion.

He took the seat closest to the door—he wanted to be the first to exit once they arrived. The eerie atmosphere was unsettling. It was practically screaming at him to get out as soon as possible. Making sure none of the passengers were watching him, he pulled off his backpack and unzipped it. Inside, six pokéballs were rolling about. His precious Pokémon.

Cautiously, Red snapped each pokéball onto his belt. If someone were to notice him gearing up for battle, he might find himself in some trouble. Of course, he had no intention of battling. Not yet anyway. It was for his own safety as he was uncertain of what Goldenrod City held in store for him. The law was against him. But rules were made to be broken, weren't they?

One of the passengers, a green-haired man, was stealing looks at him. Red's suspicion returned. He pretended not to notice the person and watched him from the corner of his eye. The man resumed his own activities, flipping through pages in a newspaper.

A bead of sweat rolled down Red's face. He started to question himself. What if he was just being paranoid? No. He couldn't doubt himself. He was sure that he had been followed for the past couple of weeks—ever since he had returned from Mt. Silver.

"Attention passengers. We have arrived at Goldenrod City Station. Please watch your step when exiting. Have a nice day."

Red stood up, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and rushed to the exit. He got off at the empty train station and listened to the doors shut behind him. He let out a sigh of relief when he heard the train dispatch.

His eyes flitted across the platform. There was no one in sight. He proceeded to take a step but immediately froze when he felt something cool and smooth touch the back of his neck.

A raspy voice echoed around him. "Stop right there."

Red's eyes widened. He slowly looked over his shoulder.

The green-haired man from the train was standing before him equipped with a handgun aimed directly towards Red's chest.

Damn it.

The man held the sleek gun firmly in his hand, ready to take action. He had the power of a god—he could take Red's life at any moment.

"Who are you?" Red questioned, his calm voice betraying his feelings of panic. He could hear his heart pulsing in his ears. The fear and confusion was overwhelming him. Green's words were pounding in his head. Since battling is against the law, people are resorting to gun violence.

"That hardly matters at this point," he sneered, his lips forming into a spiteful smile.

Red scowled. There was nothing he could do—he was completely defenseless.

"Goodnight, Red."

He pulled the trigger.