To my loving fans:

Hi everyone. I know it has been quite a long time since I have posted any kind of writing, and I am sorry for that. I'm going to make my explanation brief: My mom killed herself in June. These past few months have been absolute hell for me. I have lost all interest in anything I used to love. I couldn't even pretend to want to write. I couldn't stop crying for weeks at a time. Fortunately I have come to a better place in my mind this last month or so, and I felt the urge to write again. I needed an outlet to express myself once again, and I needed something to do just to keep myself distracted. And so I started this new project. I know that most of you are probably disappointed that I haven't picked up Allora Silverfield again, but have no fear, that story will be completed... eventually. I just felt like at this point in my life I needed to start something fresh, and so this story has been written from a darker, deeper place in my soul. I hope you enjoy it. I have the first few chapters written already, and I'll be posting at least those first few in 2 day increments. Please feel free to private message me with your concerns and questions, and I will gladly answer whatever you would like to know. I may not respond right away, but I'll get to you I promise.

My apologies

Silverfield

And when the walls caved in, I really didn't know where to hide. I stood, paralyzed, staring at my father, waiting for his direction. Waiting for him to tell me where to go; what to do. He was sitting at the kitchen table, a grim look on his face, hands folded in front of him. His eyes stared intently out of the hole in the wall, until he realized that I was staring at him.

"Get in the closet with Nan," he whispered harshly. I nodded, turning quickly and ducking under the cracked table and sprinting to the back of the house. There was another loud crash, and I flinched, stumbling, and slamming his bedroom door behind me.

Nan was ducked in the closet, still with her white apron on. Her face turned from one of fear, to one of motherly concern. "Come here, child," she whispered quietly, holding her arms out. I leapt into them, cowering and burying my face into her bosom, like I used to do with mom on stormy nights.

The crashing noises had stopped, and I could hear boots marching around the kitchen. Lots of boots… lots of people. There was no talking. I sat shaking, Nan petting my head and quieting me, as we listened as hard as we could.

"Go!" ordered Damien, pointing towards the fence. Lucario turned, concern in his eyes, but Damien shook his head. "I'll be fine, get over the- agh!"

Bullets ripped through the air around him, and he turned, holding his hood down over his face, bag in his left fist. The guards were too far up the hill to get a clean shot. Zoroark was on her way down, her illusion having been broken by a bullet in the side. The guards' pokemon were baring down on them, and they sprinted down the hill. Damien tightened his grip around the bag, gritting his teeth.

"Zoroark, return!" he said, whipping out her pokeball and bathing her in red light, just as another gun fired. He turned back around; Lucario still hadn't moved.

"I said get out!" he yelled, but Lucario shook his head. Damien frowned. We don't have time for this. "Don't be like this…" But his pokemon wouldn't budge. He shook his head, glancing up the hill one last time, hesitating. "Fine! Get over here."

He stopped running, with Lucario dashing and landing just in front of him. There were ten or so pokemon starting to surround them, the guards were too far up the hill for their guns to be of any use anymore. There were three poocheyena, three electrike, and four linoone. Easy, thought Damien. But we need to make this quick.

"Charmeleon, Swellow!" he called, tossing out two more pokeballs. His pokemon appeared in front of him, adrenaline pulsing through their veins. "Take care of them."

"Cha!" cried Charmeleon, unleashing a scorching hot flamethrower from his mouth. Instantly, half of the guard pokemon were down, or panicking. The grass was on fire, and the smoke was thick and black.

Damien looked at his bird pokemon and nodded. Swellow flapped her powerful wings, taking to the air, and fanning the flames on the ground. They spread, creating a wall of fire between Damien and the guard pokemon.

Damien glanced at Lucario. He could feel the aura pokemon's mind pushing against his own. He sighed, and gave a nod. Lucario grinned, charging an aura sphere, firing it into the flames. There was an explosion, the shockwave of which nearly knocking Damien off of his feet.

"Let's go!" he cried, knowing now was the time to make a getaway. He grimaced, hating having to use his pokemon in an escape. He knew that the more frequently that he used them, the more easily recognized he could be in the future.

He returned Charmeleon and Lucario, still clutching his bag, and whistled for Swellow. Since she was already out, he might as well use her to make his getaway. She dove, skimming along the ground, and he hopped up on her back.

"Shit!" he cursed, as his hood fell off his head. He reached back and pulled it back up, hoping no one saw. The smoke was thick enough, anyway. He tensed his legs, gripping onto Swellow's back, nearly falling back to the ground. But, they were long gone. The bird pokemon was extremely fast, and they had already made it over the fence.

He glanced back, watching the guards putting out the fire with their water pokemon. The building was virtually undamaged, aside from the hole in the glass he had cut, and the lock on the safe that he had broken. The only sign of him being there was… the giant fire in the courtyard. He sighed, gripping Swellow's neck, relishing in the cool breeze on his face. He took his hood off as they ascended into the clouds. Hopefully they won't remember which pokemon he used. And hopefully they hadn't seen his blonde hair when the hood of his cloak came off.

"Let's get back to Verdanturf," he said, patting his partner on the neck. Swellow nodded, angling her wings to the south.

"Mrs. Holloway?" Damien pushed the wooden door open. It was dark outside, and there wasn't a light on in the house. "Mrs. Holloway?" he asked again, quieter this time. He peered into the dark room, grip tensing.

There was a creak from the stairs, and a light switched on. It was… "Oh, Damien," said the elderly woman. "I'm so glad it's you. You scared me!" She smiled, her thin lips pulling to her cheekbones.

Damien smiled. "Sorry if I did, can I come in?"

Mrs. Holloway gestured for him to come inside. It was nearly 3am, and the old woman had stayed up much later than usual waiting for his arrival. She made her way into the kitchen, gesturing for Damien to follow. He shut the door behind him, glancing around the living area. It was very plain, with the dining table being set for one. He knew that Mrs. Holloway had lost her husband to cancer nearly a year prior, so the lonesome decor made sense. Still, he felt sorry for the old woman. Which was one of the reasons he had taken the job in the first place.

Mrs. Holloway came back out of the kitchen with a small bag in her hand. "Have a seat," she said, sitting on the couch herself. He took the chair across from her, turning sideways and leaning forward. He leaned his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him. "Did you manage alright?" she asked, curious.

He swung his bag in front of him, and reached in, pulling out a medium sized box. He placed it on the coffee table. "This is all that was in the safe," he said, hesitantly.

"That's all that I wanted, dear," she said, eyes immediately beginning to water. She leaned over, popping the lock on the box. Inside was a 9mm pistol, an ultra ball, and a giant pure blue sapphire.

Damien's eyes widened, not knowing what was inside until that very moment. "You see," she said. "This is why they wouldn't give it back to me after my husband died. The items within are very valuable." She lifted the sapphire, with it being nearly as big as her fist. "The government only gave me pieces of what he left to me in his will. It took me months to track down where they were hiding the other items. I had no idea the search would lead me to the governors personal safe." She shrugged. "But he steals enough from the people as it is. Why not steal from a dead man?"

Damien's eyes were still on the gem. He frowned. "That's why I do what I do, ma'am," he said. Damien had a bit of history stealing from the government. Sometimes for others, usually for himself. He was determined to become a better thief than his father. Better, even, than entire squads of Team Rocket grunts.

He shifted his attention. "What's in the ultra ball, if you don't mind me asking?"

Mrs. Holloway's smile broadened. "That is something else they took from me." She lightly picked up the ball, tossing it to the ground.

A pokemon appeared unlike any Damien had ever seen. It was a dinosaur of a pokemon, with a grey body and bat-like wings. It had the appearance of a dragon type, though he was unsure exactly what type it was. It had a large jaw, and a spiked tail.

"This is Aerodactyl," she said, smiling. The pokemon, hearing her voice, turned and blinked. It seemed to recognize her, and grinned, showing large sharp teeth.

"Aero!" it said, leaping into her lap. She scratched it on the nose, tears of joy running down her face.

"Oh I've missed you too," she said. She turned towards Damien once more. "You see, while mining gems, my husband would come across many pokemon fossils in his excavations. Most he would turn over to the Rustboro City Research Center, but the most unique, he would have revived and he would keep for himself."

Damien watched, happy for the old woman he had helped. He enjoyed much more the times when he stole to give back to others rather than himself.

He checked his watch, and stood from the chair. Mrs. Holloway stood as well. "Must you be off so soon?" she asked, reaching back down and picking up the small bag she had carried with her.

He nodded, frowning slightly. "I need to get back to my camp," he said, hesitantly. It was more than that, however. He felt as though he had been followed from the governor's safe. He couldn't place why; he had gotten away on Swellow without a hitch. But it was a gut feeling. And if there was anything Damien trusted with certainty, it was his gut.

The woman stood up, handing him the small bag. "Take this, as your reward," she said, looking down. Damien took the bag, surprised at how heavy it was. He pulled the string and opened it. Inside was quite a bit of money, and also a large, dark brown rock. He pulled the rock out, looking at it. It was dusty and jagged, and within he could see a large jaw bone slightly protruding, with sharp canine teeth jutting from the skeleton.

"What is this?" he asked. Mrs. Holloway stared, shrugging.

"We don't know," she said, referring to her late husband as well. "He found it on his last excavation, but died before taking it to the research center. He could not tell from looking at it exactly what kind of pokemon it is. He thought that perhaps, it's something new…" She shook her head, clearing her mind. "Whatever it is, though, he was going to keep and train himself. I figure that you would like to do this instead."

Damien hesitated, before nodding his head. "I would be honored."

He said his goodbyes and left the house, putting the small bag in his own larger backpack. He lifted his hood once again, before heading out into the night.

He took a side road, just along the treeline, making his way towards his hidden campsite. But he still had a clenching feeling in his gut. He heard something snap behind him, and whirled around, but nothing was there. He narrowed his eyes, fingering his poke belt, hand tightening around Zoroark's pokeball.

"Now, there's no need for all that," said a low voice from the trees.

Damien wasted no time, releasing Zoroark from her pokeball. Her illusion kicked in, causing her to appear as a seviper on release. She hissed, coiling next to Damien.

"Show yourself," he said, darkly. His hand went behind his back, feeling his knife in its holster.

From the trees came three people. The two on the sides were clearly underlings, wearing black pants and shirts, with small red R's on the sleeves. They wore black hats, covering their eyes. One was female, with silver hair protruding from the hat, pulled back in a ponytail. The other was male, his hair completely covered by the hat itself.

The man in the middle was obviously in charge. He seemed to glide, though with purpose in his step. His hair appeared black, but the dim moonlight revealed it to be a dark navy. He was tall, lean, and handsome. He wore dress pants and shoes, with a collared black shirt, still with an R engraved, though this time on the shirt pocket on his chest. He lifted his hands in the air, in a show of nonviolence, though the other two held pokeballs in their hands. Damien didn't relax one bit.

"What do you want, Rockets," he said. He had seen team Rocket members on more than one occasion, but had very few direct dealings with them. But he knew one thing: they were not to be trusted.

Team Rocket. Hated by some, praised by many, they were an interesting and controversial organization. They had become a significant presence in Hoenn in the last 20 years or so. Many people saw them as a liberation organization, sticking it to the corrupt government whenever possible. They did what they pleased, took what they wanted, and followed no law. And those who were dissatisfied with the current government were very supportive of Team Rocket's actions. Damien, though he hated to admit it, had always admired their organization. As someone who worked for himself, and tended not to follow the law either, he could identify with their members.

Also, Damien's father was a member of Team Rocket. That is, before he was killed.

"I only wanted to meet you in person, Damien," said the leader. Damien showed no reaction, though concerned about how he knew his name. The man noticed his demeanor. "Don't worry, we have only been following you for… about a day or so. We knew a lot about you, but a name we had not. Until Mrs. Holloway so gracefully revealed it in her conversation with you."

"Don't go near her," Damien said, emotionless. Zoroark hissed once more, her Seviper illusion as convincing as ever.

"Don't worry, we are interested in you, not her, my friend," he said. "My name is Vinnie, I am a current admin of Team Rocket. These are my personal guards," he said, gesturing to the grunts beside him. "We've been seeing a lot about you on the news recently, and we think you would make an excellent edition to our organization." He smiled, nodding in respect at Damien. "We would like you to come and work for us. We could offer you land, property, money… even protection."

"I don't need your protection," he said, though he could not hide the interest in his voice. Vinnie noticed as well.

"Of course you don't need it, I had no intention of insulting you," he said. "But… we could offer your own personal servants, any pokemon you could want… and the highest tech gear of our time." Vinnie laughed darkly. "And… did I mention the money?"

Damien at this time hesitated, moving his hand away from his knife. Vinnie smiled, genuine. "Okay, what do I have to do?" he asked. Zoroark canceled her illusion, appearing as herself, standing a foot taller than Damien.

Vinnie clasped his hands together. "Wonderful, stunning," he said. He looked back at Damien. "Before we can offer you these things, you must complete a major task for us, one that we believe your skills are most suited towards."

"Just tell me what I need to do," he repeated. Vinnie nodded. He took from his jacket an envelope, and a flip phone. He handed them both to Damien. "Details are in there. I would start in Rustboro, if I were you," he said. Damien looked down, analyzing the items in his hands.

"We will be seeing each other again, I am sure," Vinnie said. Damien nodded at him, agreeing to the terms. They stared at each other, wordless dialogue passing between them, until Vinnie nodded as well, turning suddenly, and gliding back into the woods. The two grunts stayed only a moment, before following closely after.

Again, he was alone. It felt like a dream almost, except now he held in his hand two items that could completely change his future. He glanced at Zoroark, who looked back at him, concerned.

"They're not bad people," he said to her. She narrowed her eyes in doubt. "They are just like me… do you think I'm a bad person?"

Zoroark shifted her illusion once more, becoming the human form that she preferred when out of her pokeball. She became a short, ebony haired girl, in jeans and a black shirt. Her hair was wild, and it was pulled back into a large, curly ponytail. She had large black ears and a bushy tail as well. She crossed her arms and shook her head in response to his question.

"Right. It's probably important to have some kind of connections at some point… right?"

Zoroark shrugged, and Damien sighed.

"Well, looks like we are headed to Rustboro."