Relax

- If Only for a Moment -

Plip. Plip.

Water dripped from the cracked ceiling above. It fell among its likeness in a murky puddle below, sending a ringing sound to echo in the halls. A soft chill seemed to radiate off the steel walls, yet sweat still slipped down Lance's back as he walked along. He took a sharp breath, and the air seemed to have a metallic taste, as if the steel had stained the oxygen. His footsteps seemed to be that of an army's, resonating and amplified, deafening to his carefully listening ears.

He kept a hand on the wall, though he pulled away every now and then to let the warmth lost in the steel's freezing bite seep back into his fingers. His other hand hovered at his belt, both for safety and reassurance. The lights blinked every now and then, causing the shadows to shift and, without fail, making Lance freeze in place.

Not that he was afraid, of course. Heavens forbid a G-Man and Champion like him would be afraid of mere shadows!

The lights made a clicking noise, and he jumped.

It took a few seconds for him to calm down again. His lips curved into a nervous smile; okay, maybe he was just a bit scared—but that was only reasonable. There wasn't a soul in sight, and he had to be ready to face anything.

Though, he thought, it was rather odd that he hadn't run in to a single person yet. Even the entrance had been completely abandoned, despite reports informing him that there were at least a dozen members holed up in the abandoned base. For all Lance knew, the gang might have already left. Perhaps the criminals had been tipped off—was the information even accurate?

No, no. It wouldn't do any good to doubt his sources. That would be detrimental to the already delicate bonds between them; the G-Men couldn't afford to lose any more help.

Still, it definitely was strange. It was possible that they were all in a single room, but why do so without any means of security? Lance already had reinforcements ready at the entrance, so it's not like they could escape easily.

Criminals were such odd creatures. Never thinking about the consequences, never thinking about the problems they caused everyone else.

He turned another corner and found himself in front of a great steel door. He listened closely to the other side and, hearing nothing, reached for the handle. With as gentle a motion as possible, he pushed down on the icy lever and pulled—

Screeeeech!

—and Lance realized that, of course, the hinges just had to have rusted.

There were a few moments where Lance kept perfectly still, his hand still on the door handle as if stuck there. He strained his ears to catch even the slightest of sounds, but other than his own pounding heart, there was nothing of notice.

And then: "Razor Wind."

Lance's eyes widened. His instincts kicked in, and, before he knew it, he had already lunged away from the door. A split second later, the steel door fell apart in two halves, a blade-like gale slicing past it to slash through the shadows. Horrible groans and haunting screams forced their way into Lance's head as the walls and floor were torn apart. The winds ripped through anything and everything in its way, and the echoes of destruction rang in Lance's head as they sounded behind him.

Dazed, Lance shook his head of the haze and dashed through the now-doorless entryway. He fumbled with his belt for a second before he managed to release his partner—only for something to smash against the side of his head.

Pain erupted in the spot, and he lost his balance, banging into the hard ground beneath him. The breath rushed from his lungs, and a split second of shock ran through his body at the heavy contact iwht the ground. His vision became fragmented, and he could only just barely make out the dark figure fleeing.

Blinking the stars out of his eyes, he forced the command out in a breathless hiss: "Thunder Wave!"

The entire room lit up as tendrils of electricity shot through it. They climbed the walls and clawed their way along the ground, sinking their fangs into every inch and crevice. The peals of shattering glass was deafening, and scattered fragments of the lights rain downed on him, casting the room into a pitch-black darkness.

Lance covered his head with his hands, wincing as the glass around him cracked on contact with the metallic floor. As soon as the noises stopped, he managed to force himself up in to a standing position. His Dragonite lit the room up with a spark of electricity, letting him look around the room.

A curse escaped Lance. A large chunk of the ceiling had been cut away, leading to the upper floors. It would be nearly impossible to catch the escapee; Lance would be trying to catch him in his own base.

He gave up and turned his attention the rest of the room. Shards of glass now lay scattered around the room and on top of a wooden table, which sat in the center of the room, covered with a cloth. Atop it stood many items: potions of all kinds, berries, empty flasks, stone molds, and what appeared to be a sketched diagram. Around it lay over a dozen unconscious men, ranging in age from teens to adults, all of whom were wearing tattered Team Plasma uniforms.

Scowling, Lance rubbed the injury on his head. Nothing was going right; they should have only been paralyzed, not knocked out. He reached over to one of the Team Plasma members and felt the fabric of his shirt. Ordinary cotton.

Lance bit his lip. Had Dragonite shocked them with more power than usual...? Or...he couldn't assume anything, but...

No, before all else, he had to secure the rest of the culprits. He flipped a switch on his Pokétch and raised it to his mouth.

"This is Lance," he spoke into the small microphone. "Failed to retrieve the goods. The Team Plasma members are in the base. One has escaped...I will begin measures to apprehend them. Guard the entrances."

...

The failure left a sour taste in Lance's mouth as he rubbed the side of his head. It had been years since he had tasted it, and it wasn't a pleasant flavor to remember.

He still couldn't believe he had been outdone so easily by the criminal. Sure, Lance was tired. He had been dealing with these kinds of missions nonstop, and his nerves, not to mention body and mind, were at their limits. But to be smacked in the head and still lose the criminal—well, that was just insult to injury. Every guard at every exit had been knocked out by said criminal, leaving Lance to haul everyone back himself. It was ridiculous; the escapee was mocking him.

Lance muttered a few curses as he kicked a stone on the ground. It was dark under the light of the waning moon, but he could see the pebble roll along the grass before bouncing harmlessly off a tree trunk. He ignored it and continued along, making his way to the large building before him.

The Pokémon Center was a brick building of red-brown, with wide rectangular windows spread evenly along the walls. He pushed open the glass doors and stepped inside, blinking a bit at the brightness of the hanging chandelier lights. The room was wide enough to hold a party in—not, of course, that Lance would ever allow such a thing...ahem—but not so much as to be overly expensive. Lance hadn't been the one to build it, but he had been the one to decline expanding it, seeing as it was already expensive enough to maintain the facilities. The Pokémon League had its hands full already; he had no reason to add onto that.

"Oh!" came the buoyant exclamation.

From the front desk, a young nurse jogged over to him with a wide smile. Her pink hair was flowing today, rather than in its usual knot, and she had left her nurse's hat on the corner of her desk. She was even dressed casually: a loose long-sleeved t-shirt and a skirt.

"Good evening, Lance!" she said, smiling up at him. "It's great to have you back after so long; it's been lonely without you around here. How did everything go?"

"Thanks, Amelia," he said, returning the smile. "Things were fine—how're things here? I hope the guys didn't throw a party or anything while I was gone."

She shook her head, taking his coat from him. He followed her as she led them across the carpeted floor. "A bit after you left, we got a challenger here, so we didn't have much time to do anything like that. Heehee, he was quite the awesome Trainer!"

"A challenger?" Lance echoed, confused. "At this time of year? I thought the circuit only just started up... How did anyone get through them all so quickly?"

"Everyone was wondering the same thing when he first got here, but we all understood by the time he was done. He beat everyone with just one Pokémon each, and he didn't even care that you weren't here!" She chuckled a bit as she hung the coat up on the coat hanger by the fireplace. "It was incredible."

Dull shock ran through Lance. He stared at the back of her head. "All of them? With one?"

She nodded as she turned to him, still smiling. "Yup. Karen was ecstatic, of course. She said it was the first time she had ever battled someone so strong. Bruno holed himself up in his room for a week until he bothered coming out again. And, well...you know how Koga and Will are. They were training like crazy after that."

Lance crossed his arms as Amelia adjusted the cushions on the sofa. "And? Did you get the name of the challenger?"

"Ashton Rhodes. And he didn't stop here, either. Apparently he went and challenged the Hoenn League as well."

"Steven's still busy with Devon though, isn't he?"

"Yes...none of the Champions were around." She led him by the shoulders and plopped him down on the couch. Pulling the coffee table into place in front of Lance, she continued, "It's surprising that he didn't want to battle them, but I guess he was satisfied with beating the Elite Four. He didn't want to take any of their places, though...

"Ah." She looked up from the table and positively beamed at him. "I'll get you something to drink! You're probably tired, after all. Coffee or tea? Ohhh, and I got some fresh juice from one of my cousins, if you'd like that."

"Coffee will be fine," Lance said, smiling weakly. "Thanks."

She winked. "Of course, of course," she said, and she whisked away through the hallway across the room. Lance stared at the door frame, long after she had disappeared from sight.

A few minutes later, Amelia came back with a cup of the dark brown drink and laid it in front of him on the table. He thanked the nurse before sipping at the coffee slowly. Heat flushed through his body and helped him to relax.

"Okay," he said after a while, laying down the cup, "let me just ask once. Did he use any items?"

"Nope," she said, shaking her head. She sat down beside him, brushing her skirt and adjusting it underneath her. "He never had to, since his Pokémon never really got hurt. But he did have a full six Pokémon, even if he only used four of them. He seemed to be a Dark-type specialist!"

"I see..."

Even when Lance had challenged the Elite Four years ago, he had used Revives to get through the battles. Defeating all four had been a ridiculously amazing feat to achieve, and beating the Champion on top of that—well, Lance had definitely been proud of himself. But he hadn't even been able to get past the first member without all of his team working together, and each battle had him patching them up with multiple items.

A bit of a laugh escaped him, but he felt no amusement. "I guess Trainers are of a whole new caliber now."

Amelia's smile faded. She gazed down at her hands, cupping her hands and rubbing her neatly kept nails with a thumb. "It's sad, but training Pokémon has become so much more difficult that I wouldn't be surprised. Injuries...even death rates have risen ever since..."

She stopped herself. Lance knew what she had been about to say, though.

"Ever since Revives were banned..." he mumbled.

Ever since Revives had been banned, Lance had had a lot more missions to cope with. All of the miraculous stones had been taken out of business, and those that were left among Trainers and civilians were treated as contraband. Those who didn't hand them in to the police were treated as criminals, outlaws. Even Lance had given up all of his Revives, as had all the other Champions.

Now Trainers had to rely much more on Pokémon Centers. One would have thought that their income would have gone up, considering how many more Trainers spent their time there. But no, after Revives had gone down, so, too, had the popularity of Silph Corporation, causing the company's fall—and thus a fall in the number of Trainers as a whole. It was a huge pity in Lance's opinion, but the one responsible didn't share Lance's feelings.

The memory of his words was drawn up at the thought, even as Lance tried to suppress it:

"Revives are despicable things. They're used to force defeated, sometimes even dead Pokémon to fight again and again—it's cruel, and it's wrong. Look at Team Plasma! The rebels were only capable of fighting because of these devices. It's just a sure sign that Revives are evil, and that they must be—"

"I think that would be a wonderful match to see," Amelia said, cutting off the memory train. "Perhaps you could go watch him battle. Who knows, maybe he'll challenge the Sinnoh League next?"

Lance blinked. "I'm sorry, who?"

"Ashton," she said. She frowned. "Are you okay, Lance? You seem a bit bummed out...were the missions too hard? I could go warm up a bath if you want—"

"No, no, it's fine," he said. He forced a smile. "I think I'd like to see him try. But I have a Champions' meeting tomorrow, so I'll have to check after that. For now...why don't we call everyone and have some dinner together for once? I'm sure they've all tired themselves out training. How old was this Ashton?"

Though thoroughly unconvinced, Amelia dropped her interrogative stare. "About eighteen, I think," she said.

Lance felt an odd emptiness in his chest at that answer. "Eighteen, eh?" he said needlessly loudly. He turned to the ceiling and laughed. "At least they weren't beaten by a ten-year-old. Hah! That would've been a laugh. What's for dinner tonight, Amelia?"

Her face brightened up. "I cooked up some curry. Is that okay with you?"

"You have to ask? Anything you make is great."

She blushed a bit but smiled nonetheless. "Thanks. I'll go call the others, then. You just sit and finish your coffee, okay?"

"'Kay." He waved to the nurse and watched her disappear up the stairway. When she was out of sight, he let his head fall on the armrest.

Ashton Rhodes. Lance felt he knew that name, yet he couldn't remember where from. Perhaps this "Ashton" was part of the older generation of Trainers, and Lance was just forgetting. Plenty of Trainers had quit after the ban had been placed, so Lance had been forced to abandon many of his hopes for new rising stars. Ashton may have been one of these names.

But that didn't seem to fit right. Even over the past three years of constant missions to handle all the illegal Revives, Lance hadn't once abandoned his post as Champion for longer than a month. He had been kept up to date with all of the strongest Trainers, and he had made sure he was a step above the rest. Despite this, he had no idea where this "Ashton Rhodes" had come from.

Odd. Very odd.

Still, perhaps he had missed this Ashton after all. There was so much to do about the Revives that it wasn't all that unlikely. Crime rates going up, the number of Trainers going down, death rates rising, more accidents, economic recession, anger, protests...

Everything started with the ban of Revives, and after the fall of Silph Co., everything got worse and worse. Devon Corporation couldn't supply the entire world—not without its biggest partner. Lance knew Steven was going through hell to keep the world as well-supplied with items as possible, but Revives were so crucial to a Trainer's life that Lance just wasn't sure it was enough.

When it came to recovery items, sometimes Potions just lacked the strength to heal Pokémon. And it wasn't just because of over-battling or irresponsibility of Trainers; there were legitimate cases, such as emergency treatment for wild Pokémon and accidents in battles. He had never used a Revive to bring back a dead Pokémon; he wasn't sure if that would even work. He had never heard of it, at any rate. Besides, there wasn't a Trainer Lance knew that hadn't at least once in his life been forced to use a Revive. None of the older generation Trainers, anyway...

Lance bit the inside of his cheek and frowned. He had to figure out how this Ashton was. He'd ask the other Champions if they knew at tomorrow's meeting. It was one of the rare chances that Lance could feel his passion as a Trainer, as the Champion, rather than his loyalty as a G-Man to uphold the law.

"Lance?" Amelia called, her voice traveling through the building. "The others are waiting!"

"Yeah, Champ, come on already! I'm hungry!" he heard Bruno shout.

"All right, all right." The Champion stood up, downed the rest of his coffee, and made his way over to the dining hall. "Karen, slap Bruno for me!"

Smack!

"Ouch!"

Lance grinned to himself. "Thanks, Karen!"

"Haha, any time, Champ."

But for now, at least, he didn't have to worry about anything. Just for the next hour or so, he could enjoy an ordinary meal with friends. His duties as a G-Man and as a Champion could rest for just a bit longer.

"Don't call me Champ," he said, leaning in through the doorway. He smiled at his five seated friends. "It's Lance."

A/N - Hey guys!

So this is the first story I've ever written that's like this. I planned out everything from start to finish, wrote out (mostly) the entire story before even thinking of uploading a chapter, and here we are! This is a five-chapter story, and I'll be maintaining (hopefully) weekly updates! Chapters 1 through 4 are allllllll done, but number 5 is a little bit different from the rest, so I'm figuring out some style issues. But don't worry! I'll be uploading that last, obviously, so it'll probz be perfect by the end of this all.

It's great to be back to fanfiction. It was a long break, but let's go!

Also! I really meant to upload only after I finished the last chapter...but today's one of my friend's birthdays. Here's to you, Odile! This is a boring chapter, but hopefully you'll at least give a glance, :) Happy birthday! Hope you have a good one!

Hasta luego, amigos~