Promises Made to a Black Hole
By Moonraker One

PROLOGUE

The sound of a frenzied footstep thwapping on the puddle of rainwater under a black night sky swiftly found several more behind it. Special Agent Johnson had seldom seen such a fast culprit running from him. In a split second motion he stopped and pulled his gun from its holster. Even a heart-pulsing ka-chuck of the mechanism cocking did not deter the running man. "STOP!" His command fell on deaf ears. One of his companions neared.

"Jim! You'll never make the shot! He's seven hundred yards away!" James ignored his slow moving partner, took an eye blink's time to aim, and squeezed off a single shot. The gun recoiled and a single forty-four caliber bullet rocketed of at nine hundred feet per second. As the lead projectile soared, the criminal prepared to turn behind an alleyway. True to aim, the bullet buried itself in the lower right leg of the man, bringing him flat on his face.

Special Agent James Johnson made the arrest, handcuffing the criminal while kneeling on the man's back to prevent movement. "You are under arrest," he explained. "You have the right to remain silent. Should you waive that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights?" He awaited an angered yes. James glanced at his partner after shoving the criminal into the back of the Ford Crown Victoria. "Well, John, you were saying?

"I'll be damned," John admitted. "You're good at marksmanship."

Later, once the criminal had been turned in at the main office, James sat at his desk and filled out the needed paperwork. Being an FBI agent meant that each bullet fired had to be carefully documented. Even where the shell casing had landed was relevant. He liked the job; it paid well and allowed him to feel as though his efforts accomplished something. His crime fighting now came in contrast to the previous life of James S. Johnson. As an operative of Team Rocket, he worked alongside Jessie Hannigan as one of many field teams. That was eleven years ago. Since leaving the group of islands on which Pokemon lived, he traded crime for justice, white leather with a bright red R for a three piece suit and a badge, and a pokedex and pokeballs for a Cougar .44 Magnum and some handcuffs. His thirty-first birthday was nearing and he recalled the other trade he did, it had been the most satisfying: he traded ignominy and embarrassment, not to mention frequent near electrocutions, for a regular paycheck and a scar from a bullet wound he incurred saving a life, and a medal in response to said act.

The paperwork filed, he sat in the break room with his soda and chips, watching the T.V. Which got basic cable in decent reception a third of the time. He turned the dial on the old clunker of a set until the daily sports news showed on the screen. His one-time adversary, Ash Ketchum prominently displayed. At twenty-five he was one of the youngest Elite Four ever. His status made him just this side of rich and just the other side of famous. In James's old life, the news would have been tragic; now he could sit with a smile and wish the guy the best. He doubted Ash ever thought about him.

"Still reminiscent, eh, Jim?" James looked away from the set to see his relatively new partner John; his old one retired.

"Yeah, I guess," James admitted. "I'm just glad I'm able to make a difference." Such had been his primary reason for joining the agency. John held up his soda and playfully they toasted. "How're you and the missus doing?" He got the typical one word answer from his partner: fine. This one word meant anything from ok to in the shit hole, and he seldom could determine exactly where in that range the truth lay.

"You ever think of going back, Jim? You know; to visit old friends?"

"No." It was a lie. A huge one, it was, at that. All the time he thought of it; he just had his reasons. He was always afraid of what he'd actually say if he found Jessie still worked for the Team Rocket organization. He was always afraid of his true feelings for her. He was just always afraid, period. Truth be told, no other woman had ever been so nice to him. No other woman had been quite as close. If it hadn't been for her, he knew, he'd be turning tricks for older men for money instead of arresting criminals for America's Federal Bureau of Investigation. She helped him salvage the shattered, burnt remnants of his masculinity. He swore to her they'd live together forever. Instead he moved away in the name of moving on. How he would atone for a sin against a woman's heart, he didn't know.

"How come you don't go out, Jim! Go on a date? You're thirty years old! You can't still be hiding from the sexual playground." To this James let out a laugh at the prospect.

"I've BEEN to the sexual playground, John. If I go back it's for one woman."

John faked a smile. "Jessie?"

"I'd only go back to the sexual playground with her."

"She the one that slipped away?"

"She didn't slip away," James revealed, shamefully. "I did."

"Plenty more fish in the sea."

James just stared at him. "I've been saying that to myself for a decade now." He further drained his soda. "So far I haven't caught one yet." The alarm on his watch beeped. "Oh, it's the end of my shift. Gotta go home, watch the tube and feel sorry for myself." Both chuckled.

"See ya Jim." James waved.

On the way out he caught sight of his supervisor. "Hey, Mr. Lucant," he shouted, just loud enough to get his superior's attention. Once communication had been achieved he lowered his tone. "Can I go yet?"

His supervisor motioned for him to come into his office. "Before you do, I wanna give you a briefing on your next assignment, Agent Johnson." Clearing his throat, James took a seat across from the desk.

"Sir?"

"Michael Lucant began his monologue. "James," he spoke, "we both know your...previous work history,"

James uncharacteristically interrupted. "Sir, Team Rocket is a part of my past. Can't we just leave it there?"

"If only, James. If only." Michael cleared his throat. Before continuing, he hastily examined himself in the mirror-like silver colored coffee mug. Fifty-six and slightly bald, even more slightly overweight he looked slightly weather beaten by time and the years that plagued his flesh. Then he continued. "There is a company in Japan known as Similatac Electronics, with long-rumored and supposedly deep-running ties with the Team Rocket organization that we, unfortunately, have never been able to prove. I recently got word the company had purchased a large island off the coast of China where the largest Pokemon tournament/convention ever will be held. Seventeen thousand trainers, some gym leaders, and even the Elite Four will be competing. During the three-month festival, scientific research will be conducted on the battles. We have received unofficial claims from a reliable spy that Team Rocket will be present. This is where you come in."

"I'm going undercover?"

"Bingo." James swallowed; such a trip down memory lane he didn't want. "James, you will be inserted into their secret HQ and be, hopefully, put on that island where you are to gather evidence of illegal activity." He handed James a series of papers, with more info. "If you are successful, James, the U.S. Government may have enough inside intel to finally bring the legal system down on Team Rocket and Similatac like a ton of bricks."

James had major misgivings. But still he liked the opportunity to destroy Team Rocket once and for all.