1 - A Volatile Defeat

Dull crashing sounds echoed throughout the stone-crafted halls of that magnificent castle. Hallway after hallway within its walls was devoid of people, pokemon, or any lesser form of visible life. As each crash roughly shook the paintings and decorative vases that provided the room with a feel of regal dignity, the movements made the castle feel alive and active, though trembling curtain rails and rickety end-tables expressed the castle's fear over the explosive power being unleashed within its uppermost chamber.

There were no guards in sight anywhere in the lower or middle regions of the fortress. Either they were dismissed for forthcoming events or were defeated at the hands of that lone child who rampaged through its halls. The child had become greatly intertwined with the ambitions of Team Plasma over his time as a pokemon trainer that had only just begun to bloom a few months prior. Each challenge that awaited him on his journey was soon met by grunts and leaders of the twisted organization, and he found himself being dragged into their affairs with no choice but to fight back. It quickly became apparent that he and his pokemon had become the strongest force in the Unova region against Team Plasma, and he had to be the one to ultimately challenge their king.

Another violent crash shook the castle halls. The battle had been raging for several short minutes, but the powers that exploded in that room were brutal and lethal. At this magnitude of power, the first person to make a mistake would pay a heavy price. But it's not always a mistake that costs a person a battle. There are instances within the world where it does not matter who is strongest or who has the most cunning skill. Sometimes, there is only luck.

"Dodge it Scrafty!" he desperately yelled.

In a brilliant flash of bright blue light, Zekrom unleashed her signature move. Draconic electricity roared within the tall, echoing chamber as electricity engulfed her entire body before she launched herself toward the injured Scrafty. The Fusion Bolt only glanced Scrafty's left arm, but the brief contact was enough. The dragon's electricity bolted through her in a torrent of static shock, burning every nerve in her body as the crackling ball of energy that was Zekrom crashed into the ground nearby. Pulsing blue sparks danced across the white stone room, lighting up the white pillars that held the ceiling above their heads in a display that was as beautiful as it was terrifying. Scrafty trembled and shook in uncontrollable pain as she fell to the ground in an electrified, twitching heap.

"No! Scrafty!" the trainer yelled as he ran to her. "Are you ok?" he asked in a panicked voice as he lifted her head gently off of the stone floor. Scrafty looked at him weakly, clearly unable to move a muscle. With sweat running off of his face and onto his black hoodie, the trainer frantically searched his bags for a way to aid the situation. Empty canisters of Full Restores and Full Heals fell out of his bag and made a hollow "thunk" as they hit the floor. Beneath his drained reserves of healing potions, there wasn't a single Revive to be found. He paused, eyes shocked at the realization of what was to come.

"So that's it then," said N from behind.

His eyes went back to Scrafty. She was his last pokemon. N had already taken out his Serperior, Gigalith, Reshiram, Musharna, and Durant with Zekrom alone. With no revives or even an ounce of bitter Revival Powder left, there was nothing more he could do; he had lost. His heart raced as the magnitude of the situation sunk into his mind. The foundation of the battle was to decide the fate of the world, to decide the fate of the relationship of trainers and their pokemon - to decide the fate of life as they knew it. The clash of the legendary dragons and their trainers replicated that of the battle that occurred so many years ago; however, this time there was a darker outcome. The dice were rolled, and the trainer had a stream of unlucky breaks as Zekrom landed critical hit after critical hit upon Reshiram, his strongest weapon.

"There is no doubt now," said N with a bright, almost manic expression on his face. His eyes were ablaze with pride, accomplishment, and anticipation as he raised his arms above his head, basking in the glory of his victory. "I am the hero of legend! I have befriended the great Zekrom through purity of heart. I have rescued countless pokemon from their evil trainers. And now, with Zekrom by my side, I will command all trainers of the world to relinquish their pokemon! No longer will they be forced to fight for trainers' amusement. Team Plasma will ensure all pokemon and humans are separated forever!"

With the same flaring passion in his eyes, N looked at the defeated trainer and shook his head, a look of disappointment, pity, and puzzlement mixing with his unmistakable pride.

"It will hurt me to see you separated from your pokemon. They fought with such valor, such vigor. I've never seen such determination in all my life. Despite all of the hardships you have gone through, they still appear to be happy." His gaze drifted to the trainer's bleeding Scrafty. "Even now, in their battered and broken state, I can hear them weakly begging me to allow you to keep them enslaved." He closed his eyes and looked away, contemplating all that had happened. "I can't understand why they choose to stay by your side..."

"They're my best friends!" the trainer desperately yelled, agonized by N's persistent train of thought. "They stay with me because we've been through so much together! We mutually love each other no matter what we go through. How is that so hard to understand?!" He held the now unconscious Scrafty close to him.

N continued to look away.

"No matter what happens, I will never leave my pokemon's side, and they'll never leave mine. We don't care if you are the most powerful trainer in the world! We are all prepared to be dragged down to hell so long as it means we're falling together!"

N opened his eyes and glanced back toward the trainer. "We'll see about that," he said, coldly.

Suddenly, a young man with white hair appeared through the large ornate doorway. Disregarding the battle that had just taken place, he ran to the center of the room and took a knee before N. Judging by his cloak, he appeared to be one of the sages. "Lord N," he immediately addressed.

N kept his eyes on the trainer for a long silent moment before turning to the man.

The young man with white hair spoke with his eyes down toward the floor. "I have recovered the Dusclops you have requested. The trainer was...complicated, but was no trouble." He held up a shaking Pokeball. It seemed to be holding a pokemon struggling to break free. The trainer couldn't help but stare at it. It felt as if the pokemon within was screaming, killing its lungs by pouring every ounce of its being into desperately trying to escape from its captor.

N took the struggling Pokeball out of the man's hand and put it on his belt quickly and without much thought. "Very good. Your work is once again excellent. Always on time you are." N spoke quickly, clearly not focused upon the man or his accomplishment, but upon his most recent triumph. He looked at the trainer in silence for an uncomfortably long moment before looking back at the man. "I have a favor to ask you."

The trainer began to tune them out as he tended to his Scrafty's wounds. With no Full Restores left, he was unable to properly mend her injuries, although it wouldn't work without a proper Revive due to the extent of her damage. He unzipped and removed his black hoodie. Beneath it was a plain gray T-shirt. He rolled the hoodie into what seemed to be a bandage. He took her broken, bleeding arm in his hand, holding the hoodie with his teeth. Propping her arm against his leg, he began to wrap the hoodie around her wounds. Whether it was luck or skilled first aid, Scrafty's arm was properly wrapped without further injury, despite her bones being severed in three locations. He held his fallen pokemon against him and lightly stroked her head, wishing the battle had turned out in his favor so his pokemon did not have to suffer such punishment. The guilt, the unrelenting feeling of self-blame, it was the feeling that could only be felt by one who has watched their most loved ones suffer in their own name.

N began to walk away from the kneeling man, motioning for Zekrom to follow. "Come Zekrom. We have demands to make." He began to walk toward the balcony opposite the front door, leaving the trainer with his broken friends.

Zekrom looked at the trainer questionably as she turned around to follow N. As they reached the balcony, she placed N on her shoulders in preparation for flight. The two flew away off the balcony at blinding speeds, blasting the room with a powerful gale.

The man with white hair nodded at the sages in the back of the room, then focused his attention on the trainer. The trainer swallowed a pit of fear as the man approached him.

"Calm down" The man said as he presented an outstretched hand. "Relax child. No harm will come to you. Come with us, do as we say, and you can leave here today with no worries."

The trainer looked at the man's outstretched hand, disgusted. What was this supposed to be? Some kind of sick charity? He was not to cooperate in any way with Team Plasma, not after the horrors he had seen during his travels. There were far too many occasions where Team Plasma offered "friendly propositions". Whether this man was calm and cool-headed didn't make a difference; he wouldn't trust any of them.

A spark of defiance glimmered in the trainer's eye. "Back off. I may have lost, but I don't care. You Team Plasma jerks can go jump after your 'master' if you follow him so blindly. I'm not going anywhere with you bastards." He looked away and held Scrafty closer to him.

The man seemed to be taken aback at the trainer's resistance. "Harsh words. Lord N made the right choice in battling you." He stood up and took back his hand. "Fine then. Have it your way."

The trainer expected immediate physical retaliation, but the man only stared at him. He then turned to the sages, signaling them to take action. The sages simultaneously began to walk toward the trainer, passing the white-haired sage without looking at him. Without turning around, the white-haired sage lifted his hand and ordered, "Bring him to the holding chambers. Lord N has demanded it."

The trainer flinched as he realized one of the approaching sages was holding heavy black chains, clearly intending to bind him into submission. In a panic, he swiftly grabbed a Pokeball on his belt, pointing it at his resting, bandaged Scrafty. A quick red beam hit her, and she dispersed into energy before being pulled into her Pokeball where she'd be safe.

Before he could react, the largest of the sages grabbed him by his shoulders as a second sage held up the black chains. "You can't do this!" the trainer yelled, furiously kicking trying to break free of the sages as they painfully chained his hands together. His vicious struggling and reckless anger were visible in his face; his teeth nearly cracked as he grinded them in fury and pain. "This isn't right! Let me go you blind, misled drones!" Almost mechanically, the sages began to drag him by the chains across the floor, their faces expressionless and soul-lacking. Despite his desperate flailing, they pulled him through the large entrance and into the ornate hallway he had charged through before his showdown with N.

The trainer continued struggling to break free of the chains as the sages dragged him away, but the chains were too sturdy and grinded against his wrists until they began to bleed. As they began to move through the castle halls, Team Plasma grunts and elites looked on in awe and humor at the child who challenged their master. Their whispers were badly suppressed and he could hear all of the humiliating comments they made as he slid past them, leaving a small trail of blood droplets. The trainer helplessly looked at them as they murmured to each other, never looking away from him. '(Shut up…)' he thought.

They turned a corner, revealing more grey-hooded spectators. "Isn't that the guy who ran through here earlier?"

'(Shut up…!)'

"Yeah, I remember him. He beat me in a battle…"

Their voices were maddening. '(Shut up!)'

"Dang. Lord N must have whooped him good."

"Shut up!" He screamed with all the force he could. All of the Team Plasma spectators, with the exception of the sages that dragged him, flinched at his outburst. The trainer glared at them with all of his hate, visualizing horrible and brutal ends to all of them from his anger-clouded mind. The silence persisted for a few moments until one executive spoke out.

"It's over, kid. Even if you're the guy with Reshiram by his side, Lord N is a visionary. You lost. Just accept it."

The trainer's black-rimmed eyes stared psychotically at the man for a moment, but he was unmoved. The look in the executive's eyes was blunt, but truthful. There was no way around what had happened. Tears welled in his exhausted eyes until his vision became blurred. His chest became heavy and pressured. In a monumental feeling of failure and sorrow, the trainer wept.