"What in the world are you doing, Michael?"
Slamming his foot on the gas as his one hand clutched the gear shaft and other turned the steering wheel, those were the first words the raven-haired man heard as he saw the building burning behind him through the rear-view mirror.
"Michael? Michael!" the voice repeated in his ear, but the man paid it no heed. He shifted into the second gear as he raced through the burning building.
No later his ears picked up the sound of several engines roaring behind him and tires screeching on the ground. He looked up in the rear-view mirror and saw a bunch of SUVs drifting around the corner and chasing after him.
"Don't you know when to give up?" Michael murmured under his breath as he raced through the warehouse. The noise of debris falling continued to fall in his ear and he looked back up, only to be shot at from the behind.
The bullet barely missed Michael and the raven-haired man ducked down, screeching back at them, "This is one of your own, assholes!"
Several bullets responded to his words as they pierced through the window behind. Cursing under his breath, Michael shifted into a lower gear, his feet releasing the gas slowly as he approached a hard corner. Suddenly, he slammed his foot on the clutch and pulled the handbrake, his hands frantically moving the wheel in the opposite direction.
"Take this, dipshit!"
His foot kicked the gas as soon as he found himself on the ramp leading to the lower level of the warehouse and his eyes darted over to the rear-view mirror. One of the SUVs crashed on the wall, another running into it at a fast speed.
Michael chuckled only momentarily before his eyes spotted another SUV safely mirroring his moves and following him.
"Asshole," he murmured and focused forward.
As the upper floors began collapsing behind him, Michael shifted into another gear. The engine roared below him as he floored the gas again, racing through the long hallway. He saw a shutter closing in front of him and gritted his teeth.
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon..." he murmured under his breath and shifted into another gear.
He was halfway through the long hallway when he heard his colleague's voice yelling and calling for him again. The collapsing rubble was nearing him faster every passing moment and the shutter was halfway down. Bullets once again pierced through the windshield until nothing was left of it. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to make it, he shifted back into a lower gear before drifting through the pillars and towards the wall, his hands rotating the wheel frantically while he tried not to scratch the ride against the wall.
Pressing the clutch again, he shifted into an upper gear and slammed the throttle, driving along the wall. He saw a small ramp in front of him, right before a giant window. He shifted the gears up again before slamming the race and pushed himself back in the seat.
"Goddamn it, Michael, will you answer for once?"
"Just shut up for a moment, Wilson!" Michael yelled, ascending on the ramp and ramming through the window. "Just shut the fuck. Up!"
The glass shattered as Michael yelled louder, his heart racing upon realising how high he was in the air. Just as he prepared himself for the painful impact from the crash, the warehouse behind him exploded with a loud bang and pushed his ride forward.
The car landed on the very edge of the roof of what appeared to be a parking area. Michael turned the wheel around to control the ride but found it spiralling out of control. The tires screeched on the ground as the car drifted on the roof. Sensing the decrease in speed, Michael pulled the handbrake, hoping to pull it back in the control but the car leaned on to one side, almost flipping around before leaning back straight on the ground.
When Michael looked up, he saw the same SUV crashing out of the window, flames ablaze inside it before it dived down. He barely heard it crashing before another explosion rung in his ears.
Stepping out of the car, Michael rushed to the edge. His chest continued to heave in and out, sweat dripping down from his forehead to chin as he stared below. The flames ablaze reflected in his eyes as he glanced at the vehicle burning below him, a hand coming out of the window.
"...Mi—can you he—Michael?"
"Yeah." Michael breathed sharply, placing one hand on his waist and another on the earpiece. "Yeah, I can hear you."
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Michael snapped back. "A whole bunch of angry mobs chasing you in fucking SUVs in a burning warehouse that's about to collapse on you any moment—what do you think I'm doing?"
"Angry mobs in fuc—what are you even talking about?" Michael opened his mouth to speak but was beaten by his colleague. "Wait—did you screw up?"
"Don't blame it on me!" Michael argued, turning around and walking back to his car. "And for the record, I succeeded. Just didn't expect them to find me so soo—"
His voice was cut off briefly when his ears picked up the sound of chopper cutting through the air and his eyes darted in its direction. His mouth opened agape and eyes widened upon the sight of a military helicopter heading his way.
"Holy shit, Michael, do you see it?"
"Yeah—" He sucked in air, gulping hard. "And it's coming my way."
"Its wha—Michael, get the hell out of there!"
"I-I am!" Michael said, entering the car and shutting the door behind. He shifted into the first gear, and the engine roared under him as he drifted around and headed towards the exit—close to the incoming danger.
"You gotta help me, Wilson!"
"I-I have a plan!" Wilson announced in a hesitant and frantic voice. "But you need to go around it. Meet me at the junction beyond the junkyard."
"Are you kidding me right now? That chopper is on my ass already!"
"Just do as I say, Michael!" Wilson exclaimed, and Michael heard a familiar roar of an engine on the other end of the earpiece. "Meet me at the junction, I have my men prepared."
"Your men?"
"Just come over here in one piece and we will handle the rest."
"Fuck you, Wilson—" Michael gritted his teeth as he glanced up in the direction of the chopper. It didn't seem to have caught him so far but at this rate, he knew it wouldn't be too long before he would be spotted.
"If I die, Wilson, I swear I will come back to life and take you with me to my grave."
"Then try to stay alive."
Michael shifted into another gear and pressed the gas harder; the scratched and dust covered green chassis was shimmering slightly under the street lights as it raced towards the entrance of a large junkyard right in front of him.
Clouds thundered in the sky as the heavy downpour continued in its frenzy rage. The sound of the raindrops scattering on the glass and rippling down the frame was melodic in its own right, but the concerns of the man in the room laid elsewhere. His attention turned towards the television screen when he heard the news once again, his eyes furrowing with anxiety.
They should have been here by now, he couldn't help but think. If they managed to escape that then they should have been here by now...
His mind didn't stop wandering in the direction he so hated. His eyes kept going back at the screen as he witnessed the military helicopter blowing into dust for the umpteenth time. There was a brief flash, a glowing, purple beam of energy was visible at the corner of the screen—Hyper Beam. He knew what it was, but he didn't know who it was. What worried him more, though, was the fact that he still didn't know who did it, or rather, why they did it.
As his mind continued to wander, a sudden sound of a door slamming open thundered in his ears. His eyes raised abruptly and he moved in its direction, and right in time to see a young, brown-haired woman rushing towards the entrance.
"Michael—"
"Where's Professor?" The woman was cut short by a raven-haired man right in time as the old man came in his view. "Professor Oak!" Upon noticing the old man, Michael hurried to him, the blond on his heels.
"Michael, Wilson," the old man spoke, relief evident in his voice. "You two are safe."
"More importantly," Michael cut him short. He hesitated for a moment and looked back at Wilson. The blond sighed and continued for him.
"The relic has been taken," he stated.
Professor Oak took a moment to process the information before his eyes narrowed with concern. "That's a problem." He turned around and walked back into the laboratory, the men following him. "I have been trying to decrypt these runes for a while now and the least I have learned so far is that there is more than one relic—it's...it's some kind of tablet or maybe a map. I don't know for sure yet."
"And they don't know it yet?" Michael inquired.
"It appears so," Wilson answered. When everyone gave him a quizzical look, he continued, "I mean think about it. They used everything they have just to make sure they get their hands on yours—" Wilson looked at Michael "—and they deduced its existence based on its other half they have. If they are this desperate then either they don't know the full story yet or they are a complete dumbass."
"I'd go for the latter."
"Arguable, but not completely inaccurate."
"In any case, we have lost our only lead," Professor Oak interrupted the two who turned back to look at him.
"Considering that the chopper on my ass was blown to dust, it's safe to assume at least they don't have it either..." Michael said.
The old man looked up the raven-haired man, but his eyes spotted the brown-haired woman standing at the door behind him, her hand on her chest and eyes filled with worry as she overheard the conversation. Before he could even let out his voice, she was joined by another woman.
"Delia, what happened? I heard the commotion and—" The woman followed Delia's gaze and saw the two men. Her shoulders relaxed but her eyes panicked at their appearance. "W-What happened?"
"Oh, this is nothing," Wilson said, brushing off her concern. "Michael, on the other hand though—" He glanced at the raven-haired man from the corner of his eyes before turning to Delia "—make sure to take a look at him later. I'm actually surprised he's even alive at all..."
"W-What did you two do?" the brunette almost screamed, panic evident in her voice.
For Michael, though, her voice seemed to fade in thin air—Professor Oak realised as a breeze sprinkled on his face. The raven-haired man glanced away from them, towards the giant glass door leading to the background. A gush of air swooshed in, swaying the curtains wildly, and was it then he noticed that the door was open. His eyes narrowed and he couldn't help but ask Professor Oak, "Hey Professor, by any chance, is Daisy still outside?"
"She is on a trip with her father. She shouldn't be back for a few days at the very least...I think." Professor Oak wore a quizzical expression as he pondered over the thought, but he brushed aside his temporary concern and looked back at the raven-haired man. "Why...is something the matter?"
Michael was visibly concerned, his eyes furrowing further. Professor Oak tried to read the mind of the raven-haired man, but the most he could do was realise that something was bothering him, as an apprehensive feeling spread in the air around them.
Professor Oak felt the hair on his skin standing up when he realised Michael had sensed something. He tried to keep his cool and approach the raven-haired man when a blustering sound suddenly echoed in the house. His mind went numb, his eyes widened, and a nerve-wracking chill rushed up his spine as he watched Michael move.
Michael rushed out of the room, towards the source of the noise. Impulsively, he held onto whatever came his way and barged into the room, towards the source of the voice, unannounced, and equally unprepared. Wilson rushed after him and so did Professor Oak, but by the time they made it to the room next door, an unexpected sighted awaited them.
Michael was crashed into a table, groaning painfully. He glanced back at the culprit, Professor Oak following his gaze, but his eyes widened upon noticing an armour clad hooded man approaching Michael, a sheath in his hand. The raven-haired man leaned aside in time to dodge the incoming sheathed sword but was elbowed in the guts before he could make a move. Groaning, he looked up, at the sheath coming his way. Briefly, he considered dodging but moved forward at the very end, grabbing the sheath instead. The next thing he knew he was wrestling the armed man for the sheath, rolling on the floor in the cramped room.
Michael struggled violently, thrashing back and forth until the man let go of the sword. The raven-haired man barely caught his breath when the man punched him in the face and pressed sword onto him. By the time Michael gained his sensed back, he realised that he had already been subdued. Though the sword was still in his hand, the sheath was opened and the blade was pointed to his neck.
"I wouldn't do that if I was you."
A familiar voice rang in the air. Professor Oak followed the voice and noticed Wilson standing behind the two, a gun aimed at the hooded man and one hand motioning the professor to stand back. The man seemingly stiffened up, his eyes narrowing. He glanced back hesitantly, or maybe it was caution, but when his eyes spotted Professor Oak behind the blond, his posture loosened up.
"Samuel Oak?" the man murmured in a low voice, earning quizzical glance from the old man, who nodded back, albeit hesitantly.
"That would be me, yes."
The man continued to look at him, observing him, before he decided to let Michael go. He stood back up and turned to face Professor Oak; all the while, Wilson kept the gun pointed at the man. "Pardon my intrusion," he began, bowing his head to the old man. "My name is Ippei. I was told to deliver this to you." The man hung the sword on his back and reached out for a small, rugged bag hanging on his waist, all the while ignoring the gun pointed at him.
Professor Oak glanced at Michael who had finally gotten up to his feet. When the raven-haired man looked at him, Professor Oak nodded. Michael turned to Ippei and took the bag in a quick motion. Sniffing and slightly rubbing his left cheek, the raven-haired man walked to the professor and handed him the bag.
"You are Michael, I presume?" Ippei spoke. The raven-haired man glanced back at him, surprised but still annoyed. Ippei took his silence as his approval and bowed apologetically to him. "I apologise for assaulting you but we weren't expecting either of you two here—"
"Two?" Wilson interrupted.
"Yes." Ippei nodded. "That includes you."
Wilson's gaze softened but his eyes remained sharp. He clicked the gun, earning a terrified gasp from Professor Oak, before asking, "And who is we?"
"Saizo, mon comrade," Ippei responded. "He's outside, watching guard in case someone were to follow us."
Wilson did not appear convinced right away, but a sense of loss was evident on his face. He sighed to himself before glancing at Professor Oak from the corner of his eyes. The old man understood the gaze and opened to bag quickly, but as soon as he looked inside, his eyes widened and a gasp escaped his throat. "Impossible..." The old man looked up, somewhat astonished as he glanced at Ippei. "H-How did you get this? Where did you get it?"
"What is it, Professor?" Michael interrupted. He took the bag from Professor Oak and looked inside as well, his eyes widening. Wilson questioned him while keeping his gun straight at still unfazed Ippei, and the raven-haired man responded in a low voice, "The relic..."
"The what?"
"I-It's the relic that I lost," Michael explained, astonished.
"You've gotta be kidding me..." Wilson murmured under his breath as he hurried to the raven-haired man and looked at the relic himself, the very same they were supposed to bring back themselves.
"So it was you." Professor Oak glanced up at Ippei, eyeing him carefully. For a brief moment, the familiar scene of the chopper blowing in the sky flashed in his eyes and he came to a concrete conclusion. "You saved them."
"Precisely so, it was Saizo who saved them. I merely secured the relic," Ippei spoke, taking the hood off his head. His black hair tied in ponytail ruffled as he shook his head and glanced back at the professor. "We were tasked to assist the resistance but our only lead was you, professor—" Ippei turned to look at Michael and Wilson. "—and your names."
"So you saved my ass, huh," Michael murmured under his breath and crossed his arms. "And twice it seems. What a pain..." He sighed, waving his hand off in a visible disappointment before walking out of the room.
Delia, who was standing behind the men with Grace, walked up to him, visibly concerned. When the brunette voiced her concern, Michael sighed, forcing a small smile. "I'm fine..."
"Look after kids, honey," Wilson told the brunette standing behind Delia. Grace nodded hesitantly before both the women left. The blond eyed them one final time before turning back to look at Ippei. Handing the gun to Michael, he murmured quietly in his direction, "Follow us."
The sound of raindrops chattering on the window filled the air as the two children occupying the quiet room continued to indulge themselves in their shenanigans. A young raven-haired boy continued to click a button on a handheld electronic device, a list rolling on the screen. Images of several Pokémon flashed in their eyes and while the raven-haired boy had a smug look on his face, the honey-haired girl sitting next to him had a look of astonishment as she peeked into it.
"Do you see this? There are so many Pokémon here!" the boy spoke. "You know what that means, right? My dad is the best!" He puffed his chest proudly at those words.
The honey-haired girl clenched her hands at his loud voice, letting our a squeaking sound. The boy looked at her, observing her for a moment before a grin spread across his face. "Do you wanna see?"
The boy offered the device to the young girl. Her eyes lit up with astonishment and she glanced up at him, asking in a small, timid voice, "C-Can I?"
The boy responded with a big, enthusiastic nod and handed the device to the girl. She immediately started scrolling through it, her eyes widening in surprise at the number of Pokémon visible on it. "Amazing..."
"Isn't it?" She almost jumped when she heard him right next to her ear, now realising that he was behind her, looking up her shoulder. "My dad has run into a lot of cool Pokémon and all of them are saved in this Pokédex!" When the honey-haired girl looked up at him, he stood up to his feet and announced, "I wanna be just like my dad and become a great Pokémon Trainer one day!"
"I'm sure you can do it, Ash..." the honey-haired girl smiled as she spoke in a small voice.
"That's right!" the boy proclaimed. He glanced down at the girl for a brief moment before lunging in her direction. She was startled when he suddenly appeared in front of her, his hands firmly clasping hers. "How about we both go on a journey together one day?"
"E-Eh...?" The girl flushed brightly, his sudden confession bewildering her. She tried to voice her words but could only stammer out incoherently. In the end, she couldn't even properly tell him a yes or no.
"C'mon, Serena!" Ash sounded like he was whining. "It'll be fun! I promise!"
The girl stifled timidly, nervous to her core. With a blush spreading across her cheeks she could barely even look into his eyes. And luck seemed to be on her side at that moment because she was saved by a loud voice—a familiar voice yelling from downstairs.
Ash's persistence seemingly vanished and a quizzical look came over his features. "Did you hear that?" he asked, and when the honey-haired girl gave a small nod, he bubbled with excitement. "Let's check it out!"
Serena did not get to have a say in the situation nonetheless as Ash quickly dragged the honey-haired girl along with him. The two rushed out of the room and down the stairs, and as they did so, the honey-haired girl caught a familiar voice calling after them. She looked back only to see Ash's mother walking after them, somewhat worried, but all she could do was watch the woman as she walked after Ash, her ears picking up a different sound. The possibility seemed minimal but she felt like it was their fathers yelling at each other.
"Don't be reckless, Michael!" Wilson yelled, yet his voice appeared somewhat calm. "At least think it through—"
"Get the fuck away from me!"
That was all the two could hear before an explosion like sound rang in the air. Ash hurried to the room and they entered right in time to witness the two men pulling a stone from each side with a concrete grip as the stone itself shone brightly.
"Whoa! What is that? What are you doing dad?" Ash let go off Serena's hand. "Serena, let's check it out!"
Ash rushed inside without a second thought, towards his father and leaving Serena behind. The honey-haired girl became perplexed but, in the end, her curiosity won over and she approached her father, holding onto him timidly.
"A-Ash?" Michael's frantic voice called out loudly when the young raven-haired boy approached him, holding onto his pants, looking up at him brightly.
"What are you and uncle Wilson doing, dad?" the boy inquired, completely oblivious to the painful expression on the raven-haired man's face. And yet Michael responded back, but not in the most friendly way he had anticipated.
"G-Get the hell out of here, Ash!" the raven-haired man screamed before his hand slipped from the relic. He fell on the floor and immediately held his head tightly, writhing and rolling on the floor. He breathed heavily, his chest heaving in and out. His eyes were sealed shut and teeth gritting. Everything happened in the blink of an eye before Ash could even understand anything. One moment, the man was seemingly crying blood and the next moment, all his movements ceased to exist. He laid there on the floor, breathing sharply as he stared up at the ceiling, his eyes tearful and sweat building up on his forehead.
Amidst the calm after the chaos, a small, disappointed voice rang in the air. "What did you do, Michael..."
The raven-haired boy looked at his father, into his eyes where an eminent fear resided. Michael placed his hand on his head and breathed in shakily. With the support from his other hand, he managed to get back up in a sitting position. He looked over at the other side and observed Wilson doing the same, however, the blond appeared calmer as if his sense of reasoning still remained intact. Briefly, he caught the eyes of the honey-haired girl sitting next to his father before finally averting his gaze.
"Ash..." A feminine voice called out, a motherly concern evident in it. The raven-haired boy turned around to find his mother entering the room. "What are you doing here? I told you not to—" But the brunette paused when she sensed the eerie air in the room. "W-What happened?"
"D-Dad was just screaming...and yelling," Ash spoke sincerely, a hint of fear in his voice. When Delia looked into his eyes, he averted his gaze to the floor.
In the silence, a hand squeezed his shoulder firmly and Ash was startled to his core. He looked up and saw his father looking down at him. Michael gave him a sincere smile and spoke, "Go back to your room, Ash. Wilson and I need to talk about something..." He paused, then added. "And take Serena with you."
"B-But—" He tried to argue but Michael shushed him. He wrapped his arm around the young boy and pulled him into a warm embrace, his one hand holding him and another running through his messy hair.
Ash did not complain but simply sat there in silence. He was very close to his father but never once did he hold him like this, out of the blue. His nerves tingled and he breathed in sharply, feeling a sense of fear dwelling inside him.
"Professor, will you look after him for a while?"
Michael's voice suddenly rang in his ears and a shiver rushed up his spine. He trusted his father. He had never questioned him before. But, at that moment, he felt ambiguous, like his father had put those words in that way to hide something. He tried to reason with himself, that that could not be the case but, in the end, his curiosity and fear won over. He couldn't help but ask in a timid voice, "Are you going somewhere...?"
Michael's hand stopped abruptly and a silence filled the room. Ash finally gathered enough courage to pull himself back and look up at his father, who stared at him blankly, his mouth opened agape. He appeared struggling, looking for right words to respond back with, but no matter how hard he tried, speaking the truth was too hard and painful for him.
"Yeah..." Michael murmured in a low voice. "Your mom and I—both of us need to go somewhere for a while. Do you...Do you mind?"
Ash shook his head but his eyes asked for more. The ambiguity in his voice hadn't left, after all, but the young Ash Ketchum couldn't realise how indefinite that was. To him, a while barely meant a small time. But yet as Ash watched in his father's eyes that night, pain, fear and dissolution so crystal clear within, he didn't realise how those words were meant to change his life forever—turn it upside down in ways he could never anticipate. After all, how a seven years old kid would have anticipated a tragedy that was about struck his home?