Chapter 1
Soon. It would not be long now.
A man sat at a desk of mahogany, eyes fixed on a large screen that took up much of the wall directly in front of him, said screen casting a flickering glow of light across the dimly lit room.
This man stayed that way for some time, his sharp calculating gaze fixed upon the various reports and information that flashed across the large screen. If it were not for the occasional rise and fall of his chest and eyelids blinking, you would think you were looking at a statue placed in an office chair.
Slowly, a messenger entered the room, the open door letting a fuller beam of light illuminate the dark room.
"Sir, we got him."
And all at once, with those words, the seemingly lifeless statue moved, spinning the chair around to face this intruder of his solitude. He needed no further explanation to comprehend who it was this messenger was talking about, and all at once this man's ice cold gaze fell solely upon the messenger, making him shudder.
"W-we have him in custody. Should we prepare the-"
"No." The man stated, his voice cutting the messenger off, his voice low and without warmth. The whole room seemed to shiver in anxiety of what the next words uttered would be. "I shall take care of this myself."
The messenger, knowing better than to show even the slightest opposition, simply gulped and nodded, stepping to the side so as to let the man pass.
The man slowly walked down the brightly lit corridor, a stark contrast to his office he was in but just a moment ago.
Whenever he passed a grunt or a worker, all stopped and saluted immediately, fear shining in their eyes at the sight of the man.
Unlike other men of his stature, this man did not despise fear or see it as weakness. Fear was what kept him in power here. Fear was what kept these soldiers in line. Fear was only bad when you let it control you. He had let it once, but that was not the case any longer. Now he was the one that wielded it.
Then, as quickly as his walk had started, it ended. The man stopped as he arrived at his destination. The detention ward.
He stared through the glass that offered a view of events occurring on the inside of this particular cell, and studied the prisoner's face, who was tied to the chair, veins bulging in his arms and large muscles as he attempted in vain to break free.
It was indeed the man he had sent his troops for: Colonel Drax, former champion of the Sinnoh Region. His scouts had done well, and he would remember that.
The man entered the room, and immediately all staff inside snapped to attention, much like all the grunts and workers in the halls had done.
"Leave us." The man said, his voice cutting through the air like a knife slicing through the air, which felt thick with fear.
The staff immediately fled, not needing and thankful for a reason as to why they were not wanted inside of the room.
Once the final staff member had left, and the door locked with a click, the man turned to Drax who was still tied to the chair.
"So you must be the boss those meat-headed grunts were talking about." Drax stated, his voice low and threatening.
"Indeed." The man replied, picking up a scalpel that was previously on a tray resting on the counter, twirling it in his fingers.
Setting the metal tool back down in its proper place, the man turned back to Drax, now fully focused on his prisoner.
"If I recall, you had an intriguing battle strategy that you applied to win your championship. The opponent you faced relied on stat boosting attacks such as Bulk Up and Calm Mind, which crippled opponents that they faced in previous rounds. But to adapt, you applied using the move Psycho Boost to raise your own stats to match theirs, effectively canceling out the advantage they had relied so heavily on, thereby crippling their entire battle plan."
"So what if you know how I work?" Drax growled. "That doesn't mean anything."
"On the contrary, it means everything." The man leaned in closely, and whispered in Drax's ear: "It means I know all of your limitations. It means I know exactly how to destroy you."
The man leaned back once more, his eyes flitting back to the tray on the counter, and Drax spoke, his usual confidence and vigor now shadowed by a hint of fear. "What do you want with me?"
The man laughed, but it was one of cruelty that made even a man of Drax's stature shiver.
"Why the answer is quite obvious Drax. I have plans. Plans for the future. I have no doubt that once the Pokemon Association finds out what it is I'm after, they'll throw everything they have at me. But by that point it shall be too late. No one will be able to stop me with the power that I shall achieve."
"However, in the meantime I do not expect my work to go un-noticed. And so until I am able to achieve my goal, every Champion, and every Gym Leader is a threat to my plan."
The man's usually cold, calculating and cruel eyes glazed over with a look of madness. "I have dealt with far too much pain to fail now. I Will Prevail!"
The look of madness that had overcome the man left as quickly as it had come, but Drax could not see the man's expression as he had turned to face the glass that showed the outer-hallway, taunting Drax with freedom that he knew he would not achieve.
"You asked me what I wanted with you." The man stated, his voice low and ice-cold, hand withdrawing a Pokeball from his pocket.
"I want one less potential enemy that could take my vengeance from me."
With a flash of light the Pokeball opened, and with a Thunk and a Crunch, Drax, still tied to the chair with seemingly unbreakable rope, fell to the ground, a spike launched from Cloyster's Spike Cannon lodged in his torso, blood spilling freely from the corners of the impaled spike and dribbling from his open mouth, his eyes forever frozen in a state of shock and pain.
The man slowly returned his Cloyster, and without looking back opened the door and exited the once pristine white room.
This would be the fate of anyone who dared to stand in his way. His dream would not falter. It would not fall.
"Where is he…where is he…" A girl muttered, pacing back and forth across the same 3 tiles.
"Blue, calm down. There's still 30 minutes until it starts. He'll be here." A boy with spikey auburn hair assured, his green eyes fixed on 'Secrets of the Land' book in front of him.
Blue sighed and plopped down beside him, reclaiming the seat she had been sitting in moments before. "I know, but usually he's here by this point."
"People can get busy y'know." A voice stated behind them.
Blue and Green turned to face Gold, who was sitting behind them with a semi-bored expression and picking his nose with his pinky.
Blue's mouth twitched with disgust at the action, but maintained her composure. "So you know where he is?" She asked.
Gold shrugged and pulled his pinky out of his nose, and flicked the end away from him, sending the booger flying into the crowd, which was immediately followed by a high pitched shriek. "How should I know? Things don't always go as scheduled."
Silver, who was sitting to Gold's immediate right,snorted and swished his hair out of his eyes.. "You never stay on schedule." He snorted.
"And I won't!" Gold proclaimed, standing up out of his chair, staring down at Silver.
Blue exhaled sharply and turned back to face the stadium, deciding not to involve herself in the argument she could almost guarantee was about to happen.
"Why don't you try texting him?" A new voice, Ruby's, who was seated two seats to Gold's left, suggested. "I mean, he has a phone for a reason."
"Great Idea!" Blue beamed. "Thank you Ruby, I can't believe that we didn't think of that sooner." She said, putting venomous emphasis on the latter end of the sentence as she stared at Green with a withering look.
Green placed a finger on the page he was reading, marking his position before looking up at Blue with one eyebrow raised and a: 'Why is this suddenly my fault?' look.
"Right…whatever." Blue said, pulling out her phone. "I'll message him.
A young man silently sat next to a swift moving stream, its gurgles the only sound filling the clearing with the exception of an occasional cry from a native Pokemon. His head rested in his cupped hand as his eyes stared at the water, not really seeing the rushing water as his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
He wore a gray hoodie which rested unzipped around him, revealing a plain white T-shirt underneath. A faded black baseball cap rested on a head of short chestnut brown hair, with likewise faded jeans and a pair of broken in tennis shoes.
It was easy for one to tell he had been around quite a bit.
He continued to stare at the water, his Dark Metallic Gray eyes glazed over with pain, guilt and sorrow. More out of habit than anything else, he screwed his eyes shut, breaking off the weary gaze on the stream, massaging the large scar that ran from the top of his right temple that curled over his eye and ended at his lips. It was a nervous habit that he had been trying to break away from for some time.
All at once he rose up from the soft blanket of grass on which he had been resting and slung his pack over his right shoulder. He had spent long enough in thought.
He resumed his stroll and worked his way back to the dirt road that he had left several hours before to venture to the stream he was at just moments ago. Beams of light peppered the ground as they found their way through holes in the canopy of green above.
He began to hum to himself under his breath, and pulled out an apple which he chewed on thoughtfully. After another 10 minutes of walking through the early morning forest he saw a clearing opening up ahead.
As he walked, he felt his pocket vibrate. Quickly he pulled out his Pokegear, the screen glowing with a new message.
The tournament starts in 10 minutes! Get your sorry butt over here before it starts!
"Karp…" he hissed under his breath. Well, so much for a peaceful stroll back to town. Immediately he broke into a high speed run. He had to make it there quick, he couldn't be late for a televised tournament, otherwise the Association would never let him hear the end of it.
Within minutes, he sprinted into town. Barreling down the street, he pulled out one of his pokeballs, and grinned at the Pokemon inside.
"You guys ready?" He asked. His Pokemon nodded, ready for a battle on the scale of the one he was about to go into.
Meanwhile inside the stadium, the crowd muttered anxiously. "Where is he? How long until it starts?" They murmured.
"W-well since he isn't here, we, as the association's judges, have no choice but to credit the victory to Cynth-"
Right as the announcer uttered those words, a Pokeball flew high into the sky, spinning with expert precision, causing the sunlight to reflect off of its surface in an enchanting gleam.
The pokeball then opened, releasing a large Tyranitar that landed on the stadium's battleground, its weight causing a shockwave that threw out a wave of loose dirt and debris, before it gave a loud roar that cut through the air, overpowering even the booming audio system in the stadium.
"Don't call of the match just yet Director!" A voice echoed out of the sandstorm that had emerged from the Tyranitar's landing.
"The fun hasn't even started yet."
The dust slowly settled back into its loose spot on top of the steady topsoil, revealing the defending champion.
The director in his booth sighed with relief. "Right then…trainers ready?"
Both trainers, both Cynthia, and the young man took their positions. Cynthia promptly released her Spiritomb as her first pokemon.
With a confident smile, Cynthia stared down her opponent. "It is an honor to fight someone of your Caliber, Delta."
"The same goes for me." He replied with his own small grin.
"But we aren't here to make small talk, we are here to battle. And I have no intention of losing this fight!"
Delta simply grinned once more.
Tyranitar and Spiritomb took battle positions as the referee took his spot on his tower.
"3…2…1…FIGHT!"
"And Cynthia's Spiritomb takes an extremely brutal Stone Edge attack! We've seen how powerful Delta and his Tyranitar are in battle, and the sheer destructive power of that move is evidence of their strength! But Spiritomb isn't out yet, there's still time for Cynthia to turn this battle around!"
"Come on Tyranitar! Pulverize that thing!" A young girl with reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes yelled, sitting on the edge of her bed, leaning in as close as possible to the TV screen where the battle was being broadcasted.
"And a Swords Dance boosted Crunch finishes off Spiritomb! How is Cynthia going to react after hardly putting a dent in Delta's lead Pokemon?!"
The girl pumped her fist in the air. "YES! CHEW ON THAT CYNTHIA!" She shouted.
"Emily!" The girl's voice came from downstairs. "A letter came for you in the mail!"
Emily frowned. A letter? For her? Eh, whatever. Honestly she didn't really care. Her mom knew that she had been waiting for this broadcast ever since it was announced that it was going to be aired a month ago. Emily had even taken the time to stock a bunch of treats for the big battle.
Yes, Emily loved Pokemon battles. But there was a certain kind of Pokemon battle she enjoyed more than others-Delta's Pokemon battles.
Delta had been her hero for some time now. He was kind, caring, and powerful all at once. Ever since the first time she had seen him on TV, she knew that he was who she wanted to be like when she started her Pokemon Journey. Not 'if' like her mom always told her, but when. Because she wasn't going to let anything stop her of living her dream.
"I'll read it later! I'm busy!" She yelled down the stairs, hoping that her mother would leave it at that as she usually did.
"Emily, something tells me you'll want to read this one right away. It's from Professor Oak."
Emily felt her heart stop. Professor Oak, as in THE Professor Oak, wanted to talk to her?
"Coming!" She yelled, barreling down the stairs at light speed, half tripping over the dirtly laundry overflowing from her bin in the hallway.
Huffing, she stopped in front of her mom. "Well? Can I read it now please?"
Emily's mom rolled her eyes and smiled before handing her the letter. "If only you came that quickly when I need you to take out the garbage."
Leaving Emily alone in the kitchen, her mother left the room. Hastily Emily pulled out a chair and sat down, setting the letter down in front of her.
Her mind was waging war with itself just by staring at the letter. One side told her to open the letter carefully and slowly read over what it said, to be respectful and to get the whole picture, while the other side told her to just rip it open and read it as fast as she possibly could.
With a sigh, she slowly picked up the letter and noticed how badly her hands were shaking.
Deciding to not add to her anxiety anymore, she slowly opened the letter, carefully unfolding the parchment so as to read its contents….