Without question, the pokèball and the subsequent Pokèmon Transport Network was the most revolutionary development in the twentieth century – and quite possibly in the history of human civilization. For centuries, pokèmon held undisputed dominance over the planet, humanity limited to a scattering of heavily fortified and mostly isolated outposts connected by a very hazardous network of air ships and a limited number of protected roadways. While certain species of pokèmon have been domesticated with varying levels of success since recorded history, the overwhelming majority proved impossible to control, and even those working for man were only a step away from their natural, feral nature – even discounting the natural risk of working with such creatures at the best of times.

Overtime, mankind began to close the gap against the monsters, technological and intellectual superiority making up for some of the shortfalls, and a commanding sense of unity and purpose amongst the various settlements closing the gap even further. Civilization began to progress – no longer permanently held back by waves of invasion and destruction.

The events leading up to the invention of the pokèball are well known, even now, and so I see little need to go into too much depth into its origins at this time. Suffice it to say that following Doctor Akihabara's breakthrough, the ebb and flow of power between man and monster reversed considerably and at the time it was believed, irrevocably. The pokèball served a number of functions. Most obviously, it provided a near foolproof method of capture and containment of any specie of pokèmon. The original system was nowhere near as strong and stable as it would become – and even at its height the pokèball was never perfect. Yet the abilities were significant, both in relative and absolute terms. Even more profoundly however, the mechanical process inside the system changed the nature of the pokèmon on a near molecular level, ingraining them with a docility and compliance not found in even the most domesticated of creatures. Finally, and most remarkably, man was able to dampen the innate powers of the beasts, allowing control and proximity to pokèmon previously even to dangerous to interact with, let alone attempt to train.

Most of this information was, of course, top-secret. While the end result soon enough became public knowledge, it soon became clear to the leaders of the Confederation of Free Cities that the ability to replicate the system would endanger the already fragile stability of the realm. Almost immediately, a number of unprecedented centralized and authoritarian measures were passed: it is here that one can trace the beginnings of the Indigo League and the bureaucratic sprawl that would run the Pokèmon Transportation Network.

And so it began. With the power to raise a large, powerful army, mankind proved that its own intellectual prowess would overcome the overwhelming strength of nature. Large swathes of the continent previously too dangerous for settlement became dominated by the fledgling League, its mastery all but absolute. Those pokèmon which proved too dangerous to be subdued even now – the most notable being the Charizard Hoard of Cinnabar – were slaughtered to a one. Within a span of less than twenty-five years, all of Kanto south of the Lesser Moon Range and the Cerulean Cape was pacified. Commerce flourished along newly opened trade routes, leading to an economic and technological renaissance which in turn provided greater support for the League. And in the minds of most, pokèmon were no longer demons or monsters – but animals to be used for labor, or as pets, or as objects of study for Academia. And of course, for a culture so engrained with a perpetual fear of 'barbarians at the gates', it is hardly surprising that a sport revolving around forcing pokèmon to fight one another would be met with enthusiasm. Serving as both a unifying phenomena and a cheap way to monitor and train battle-ready pokèmon, the Pokèmon League became the most popular and profitable apparatus of the state, the leading trainers and their pokèmon treated as heroes. It was a time for celebration, after all; in fifty years, mankind had progressed further than it had in the past five-hundred.

It would only take a fraction of that time for it to collapse once more, man's ingenuity the key to his destruction...

~Untitled Papers, source unknown


Ash paced furiously around the enormous fountain, cursing his own brashness and that girl's – Erika, as fate would decide to kick him in the pants yet again - attitude toward him. He cursed, kicked the granite base, then cursed again as he pulled back his now injured foot. This always happened! He had only given his honest opinion after all, and he'd already been dragged along on the shopping trip from hell.

"It's really Misty's fault," he grumbled to himself, smacking his hat against his pants in frustration. He glared at the giant dome, just visible at the far end of the park, over the top of a large cluster of trees. "She knows that I can't enjoy a city until I've at least sized up the local gym. And shopping!" He spat the word, disgusted by it, before slumping down on the wall of the fountain. Pikachu rolled over, giving his friend and trainer a consoling pat on the arm before attempting to lie down on Ash's lap.

Ash jumped up, causing Pikachu to fall backwards, rolling once on the stone. "We'll make a challenge anyway!" He declared with renewed enthusiasm. "League rules state all gym masters must accept any legal challenger. Not liking gross smells isn't a reason to ban someone, so she has to fight." Ash looked at Pikachu, and gave the small yellow rodent a cocky grin when he noticed Pikachu matched his enthusiasm.

"So what do you say?" Ash asked, his eyes glaring daggers once more at the top of the gym.

Pikachu gave out an aggressive squeak, bounding forward and jumping onto Ash's shoulder, shaking his own tiny fist at the building.

"Right then, let's go!" He took a single purposeful step forward...

...And was greeted by mock applause, three figures stepping slowly out from behind a hedgerow. A man and a woman, both dressed in identical quasi-uniforms, though the ever-present red "R" that he had come to associate with them on the front of their shirts was conspicuously absent. The man was short, not much taller than Ash himself, with an almost luminescent shock of blue hair. The woman was taller, with an equally attention-seeking head of hair, though hers was a vibrant red that fell in a braid down her back. Her face was pinched and hard, though not unattractive, just... unsettling, like she was always sucking something bitter while smelling something foul.

Despite the fact that everything about them stuck out, it paled in comparison to the third member of the group – a Meowth walking on its hind legs, which in order to accomplish this forced it to move in an awkward half-limp, half-swagger.

"Team Rocket," Ash exclaimed warily, his stance suddenly guarded.

"He's on a roll today, isn't he James?" The woman said, her voice sharp and mocking. "Full of obvious statements. Whatever next?"

The man – James – snickered. "It's like I always say, Jessie, it's the Pikachu that has all the spark in their relationship." He gave a weak chuckle at his own joke.

"What do you want?" Ash asked, determined not to let them bait him. He wasn't in the mood for their regular antics, and shared a look with Pikachu. The rodent nodded, then jumped onto the ground next to Ash, static hissing in its cheeks.

"Woah now, let's not get hasty!" The Meowth interrupted, raising both front paws over its head in a show of surrender. "We ain't here to steal nothin' or get in any trouble... not with you anyway," he finished with a satisfied smirk.

"Thundersho–"

"No!" James whimpered, already cringing slightly. "Not again, please. We're serious. I still have spasms from the last time," he complained, looking up at Jessie. "They can't put enough insulation in these suits. I really think we ought to –"

"Shut up," she snapped at her partner, before turning back to Ash. "We've got a similar problem, and we can help each other," she said with forced calm, though she still looked angry enough to spit. "You need that badge if you want to ever compete in the League, and despite your hilariously naive optimism, it doesn't matter what the rules are, if there's nobody around to enforce them. And nobody's going to cross a gym leader in their own town."

"And believe me, we know everythin' there is to know about rules," Meowth added. "Can't be breakin' 'em if you don't know 'em, and we wrote the book on it."

"You wrote the book on losing," Ash replied lamely. Meowth raised a paw, claws flashing, before a warning hiss from Pikachu made him back down.

"What are you up to?" Ash finally asked, breaking the uneasy silence once more.

"If there's one thing I hate, it's pettiness," Jessie said at last with a long suffering sigh and not a trace of irony. "James and I might have tried to borrow a few things in town here a few years back, and it seems they still remember us... It wouldn't matter of course, but the new Gloom N°22 is only available here, and I want it."

Ash stared. He shared a look with Pikachu, then stared some more.

"So... you're going to help sneak me into the gym to get back at a town for remembering the time you shoplifted... because you hate pettiness. That's, that's..."

Both James and Meowth seemed to find the ground very interesting.

Anyone else, and he would have dismissed it as a ridiculous story. But Jessie and James were so notoriously pathetic, that he supposed it could be true.

And dammit, but he really needed that badge.

"Right then," he said at last, "what's the plan."

By the way James suddenly lit up, Ash realized this could only end badly for him.

"Well!" James spoke enthusiastically. "If there's one thing we do well, it's disguises! It's the one thing the boss doesn't complain about, at least," he said with slightly less assurance. "Anyway... We've got a full makeup kit with us – Jessie's, of course, and as you're not being watched by anyone outside the gym, you can pick up a dress and wig without drawing attention to yourself... much," he amended.

"So we dress you up like the little princess, and off ya go," Meowth snickered. "Once she throws out her first pokèmon, it doesn't matter what happens – even without league enforcement, she can't call off a battle once it's officially started, and there's nothing in the rules against being a cross-dresser."

"A cross... no, absolutely not!" Ash yelped. "Anyway, it would never work," he grumbled, turning to Pikachu for support. "I'm sixteen, I don't look like a girl at all. Course they'd know it was me!"

"Yeah, right," Jessie said snidely. "You're a skinny, runty brat. Making you into a girl is an insult to our talents, if anything. Keep your mouth shut and we can get you through."

"But if ya don't want our help – or that badge of yours – then don't worry about it. I'm sure we can make our presence known to these losers some other way," Meowth put in.

The trio began to walk away, leaving Ash shaking furiously in the knowledge that he was being played.

"Fine!" He called out, causing them to stop. "I'll do it, but any tricks and I'm calling it off. Deal?"

"Deal," Jessie replied, her smile wide and cold.

Ash wasn't sure whether to feel proud or humiliated when three hours later, he was ushered through the gym, surprise flashing briefly on his face followed by a bout of humiliation when nobody seemed to notice anything strange. He looked away, hoping he'd be mistaken for a shy or star-struck girl. It helped that his cheeks burned; this was truly beyond mortifying. He walked out onto the field, noticing that the interior of the gym was designed to appear like a small clearing within a grove. Large trees grew under the clear dome, reaching up towards the curved ceiling. On the right, a raised platform sat for spectators, though it too was surrounded by vegetation. He wasn't particularly impressed by it, but he knew better than to openly criticize this particular gym – the people here had a thin skin.

As if it couldn't get any worse, he spied Misty and Brock coming out of a small samples-shop that made up the far wall of the gym, accompanied by a number of girls who looked to work there. The throng moved to the spectators' gallery, and he could make out snippets of conversation, all of which seemed to be based on the upcoming fight and who 'she' was. Pikachu had agreed to hide within a pokèball, realizing that even as a girl, a trainer with a Pikachu on her shoulder could lead to undesirable questions. As soon as the battle started however, they would realize who he was. That though, outside of his murdered dignity, would be irrelevant.

"The badge. Focus on the badge." He whispered to himself.

He kept his head down, focusing his attention on the league official who was stating the rules of the match.

"... three versus three, or until the declaration of a forfeit. The host is limited to grass-class species, the challenger is only limited to nonfire-class species. Pokèmon deemed unfit to continue fighting by myself must yield. No returns..." and so it continued.

"Do you accept?" Ash nodded slightly, squeaking out a high-pitched 'yes'.

"Take your places!"

Ash looked up, staring from underneath the blond curls of his wig across the battle ground, watching as Erika prepared herself. This was, Misty often joked, the only time he ever truly understood people – the moment they were about to start a pokèmon match. And perhaps it was true, he did get a lot out of a battle before the first ball was thrown.

She was different now, neither warm and inviting as she'd been when they first met, or as outwardly angry as she'd been after he'd insulted her merchandise. She seemed single-mindedly focused, a gleam in her eye that bespoke of confidence without coming over as haughty. He had noticed obviously that she was beautiful – that was afterall part of the problem when he'd stuck his foot in his mouth – but the softness that surrounded her had faded away.

Misty – his near entire interaction with girls his own age, and subsequent base for all reference – very much wore her heart on her sleeve, and the change between how they usually got along and the competitive nature when they battled didn't really exist. He liked that about her, her purity of self – though he'd never hear the end of it if he admitted as much. And likewise he knew his own zealous competitiveness annoyed her, even if it was also a source of amusement – not that she'd ever admit that either.

Practically, it meant she was a known quantity to him – as much as a girl can be to a teenage boy. This girl, wasn't..

"Focus," he muttered aloud, though too softly for anyone but himself to hear it. Erika had stepped into the trainer's box, and seemed to be debating between two pokèballs, shuffling them in her left hand, a look of hard concentration on her face.

Best he could tell, she was Misty's opposite. Much more outwardly feminine than Misty – yet harder, predatory... not that Misty would tolerate being called 'soft'. Uneasily, he realized she reminded him of a younger Jessie more than anyone else he knew. It wasn't a pleasant thought. Jessie was a hopeless trainer primarily because what she had in killer instinct she was severely lacking in patience and control on her temper – two problems he himself knew something about. It wasn't wise to make assumptions, but it was unlikely that a gym leader would survive in that capacity while having those faults.

'It's going to be like the Lieutenant all over again,' he thought grimly. 'Only without the chance of a rematch if things go wrong.'

He shook his head, clearing it of such pessimist thoughts. A self-depreciating smile wisped across his face – Misty always claimed thinking wasn't his strong suit anyway. She (most of the time) meant it as jest, but it carried a grain of truth. He went with his heart and blood and guts over his brains: he simply did. And what he may have lacked in general knowledge or fancy strategic know-how – and Misty once more was never shy of telling him just what he lacked – he knew the strengths and weaknesses of his own pokèmon intimately. That more than anything was his greatest strength.

"Begin."

For a moment, Erika stared back at him, and his stomach plummeted, fearing he would be discovered at the last minute. Then her focus shifted, one tiny pokèball expanding in her hand as she raised it with a flourish. With an elegant snap of her wrist, the pokèball soared upwards, spinning towards the center of the ring. It bounced once before opening, a harsh light erupting from within, slowly sharpening into a spherical shape before fading into color, forming a lush-looking Tangela.

Ash frowned, racking his memory for any relevant information. Without Charmander, he only had five eligible fighters; Bulbasaur and Pidgeotto clearly being the two best candidates.

He reached for the magnetic holster on his belt which kept his pokèballs snugly at arm's reach. Then, a flash of inspiration! Vines. Look at it, it's nothing but vines. Attack from the distance.

"Bulbasaur, I choose you!" He bellowed his customary opening, enthusiasm bursting within him as the solution to this particular battle formed inside his head. An moment later, Bulbasaur appeared, pawing its front foot into the ground and letting out a raspy growl.

Ash realized his mistake.

"You!" The accusation flew from across the field. Gasps to the side made it even more painfully obvious that he'd been discovered. A moment later, Pikachu's ball exploded. The yellow pokèmon gave Ash a shrug, before waving towards Misty and Brock. Ash flushed once more.

"Enough." Erika's voice carried across the field, bringing the rumblings from the audience to a complete halt. She glared at Ash for a moment, before turning to the league official, standing awkwardly on the sideline. "Sir, please commence the battle"

He stared for a moment, then schooled his face into some semblance of neutrality, raising his green flag.

"Begin."

Both pokèmon reacted before either trainer issued a single command. Tangela, clearly used to scores of similar battles took the initiative, two ropey vines hurled themselves towards Bulbasaur, intent on catching it between them. Bulbasaur for its part reacted admirably, dodging the first completely and moving fast enough that the second landed only a glancing blow to the base of the bulb.

"Don't let it get too close, attack from a distance." Ash shouted into the fray. Then he added, "Focus on the body!"

Bulbasaur nodded its head a fraction of an inch, pressing into the ground before releasing a barrage of the razor sharp 'leaves' from its bulb. Tangela staggered slightly as the leaves connected with its central mass, but otherwise seemed unfazed, another group of vines speeding towards the now stationary Bulbasaur.

Bulbasaur attempted to jump aside, but its luck had run out – it simply wasn't that agile. Thick vines wrapped around both its front legs, lashing them together.

"Bring it in." Erika called out, though Tangela was already taking the initiative. Ash thought frantically, trying to come up with a counterattack before Bulbasaur was irrevocably ensnared. Bulbasaur for its part was fighting frantically, biting at the vines and scrambling on its hind legs to anchor itself into the ground, but it could only slow down the inevitable, and the vines seemed unaffected by its bite.

"Grab the tree – the big one, far left!" Ash blurted, desperate to buy time. Bulbasaur stopped twisting for a moment, looking towards where Ash was pointing. With a defiant growl, it threw out its own vine, wrapping tightly around an enormous oak in the center of the copse. It was a small victory that Erika seemed slightly thrown by this maneuver.

The two pokèmon seemed caught in a stalemate, Bulbasaur no longer being dragged forward yet unable to attack; fully concerned with holding its position.

Slowly, agonizingly so, Bulbasaur began to move backwards, kicking as well it could with its hind legs and maintaining the torque in its vines. Tangela pulled back, and as both trainers watched, the only sound was the strain in the tension of two sets of vines pulling against one another.

Ash's mind was racing. In the long run, it was Bulbasaur who was being pulled in two, not Tangela – the advantage lay with Erika. And those vines were so very, very tight...

"Razor Leaf! Cut the vines!" He shouted, a sense of triumph rising within him. Loose around its body, Bulbasaur's leaves had dented the vines but done little else. Now though, the vines were exposed and taut. The look of horror that registered on Erika's face as he issued the command confirmed as much.

"Close the distance – let it go!" It was too late – a half dozen leaves shot out, criss-crossing with the precision of long hours of practice into Tangela's vines, just six feet from where the tips held Bulbasaur immobilized. Tangela let out a high-pitched squeal as it registered the loss of the dextrous and sensitive tips of both its vines, rapidly curling the ragged remains around its body protectively.

Bulbasaur, now free of one restraint, went flying backwards, slamming into the tree that had previously been its second anchor. It stood up shakily, clearly dazed by the impact, before falling down once more, utterly exhausted.

"Both pokèmon are unfit to continue," the voice of the forgotten referee cut through, causing Ash to jolt his head away from Bulbasaur. He looked towards Erika, then shrugged, pulling out Bulbasaur's pokèball. A tie wasn't ideal – he'd hoped for Bulbasaur to at least survive into the second match, if not win it – but he was still very much within the battle.

"You did great," he called out consolingly as the beam of light erupted from the ball, engulfing the fallen pokèmon. "That was a really good opponent –"

An explosion.

A dull roar, and then a much louder boom filled the gym, the shock of the explosion knocking Ash face first into the grass.

He didn't move, his head ringing and the taste of dirt and blood mingling in his mouth. Drunkenly, he lurched his head upward, flinching slightly at his own sudden movement. His eyes swam but eventually he began to make out a fuzzy picture. The other half of the gym – where the scent shop had stood - had collapsed into rubble and had taken a segment of the roof with it, leaving a ragged hole that was quickly filling with a grey cloud of debris. Erika was on her hands and knees, trying and failing to stand up.

He attempted it himself, swaying drunkenly though managing to stay upright on the second try. His legs shook, but he managed a few steps before the nausea overtook him, a bitter taste in his mouth as he spat out bile.

It felt like a long time before he heard noise again. Panicked screams and confused moans distinguished themselves from a low roar as his hearing returned – he suddenly remembered that there were other people here as well.

"Ash, over here!" He recognized Brock's voice and turned in the general direction – it helped that even had everyone been standing, Brock would have been the tallest person in the gym. He shuffled forward, absurdly proud that Brock had had the wherewithal to release Onix, the large stone snake acting as a pillar of support for those nearby. Idly, his own hand reached for his belt, subconsciously checking the count. He froze, panicked. There was a ball missing.

"I dropped Bulbasaur's ball," he shouted to Brock, now focused on the ground, trying to find the tiny red and white ball amongst the fallen foliage. He shook his head – he really was addled. "Pikachu, are you alright?" He called out, feeling a new-found dread that in the midst of a massive disaster, he was already short two pokèmon.

"Pikapi!" Pikachu half-tumbled, half-rolled towards Ash, before jumping and throwing himself at Ash's stomach. Ash caught it, falling back a step as he did so. "Good, you're alright," Ash replied, relief clear in his voice.

Pikachu however didn't pause, wriggling in Ash's hands and pointing frantically – towards, Ash realized with horror, the tree that Bulbasaur had been thrown into earlier. Sure enough, there at the bottom was the little blue pokèmon, though it was making no move to stand up.

Ash ran forward, falling next to his pokèmon. The sight was horrific: it was clearly still alive, and for the most part seemed fine if not bruised, its back, however...

The bulb was crushed, caught between the force of the explosion and the tree once more. Sap oozed from a ragged hole at the top, and it seemed that parts of the bulb had been reduces to a mushy pulp, covering the surface and leaving harsh gouges within. Bulbasaur looked up, its eyes glassy and making no noise save a pained, repetitive growl.

Tenderly, Ash touched its head, not trusting himself anywhere near the tattered remnants of its bulb.

"We'll get you taken care of right away," Ash promised, doing his best to sound calm and reassuring. He pulled Pikachu's pokèball out – the league had a fine for using a pokèball not registered to a specific pokèmon, but it was hardly a concern at the moment, and there wasn't time to search for the correct one, wherever it was.

Relief washed over him as Bulbasaur disappeared inside, properly this time. While not perfect, the pokèball would act as a sort of stasis until he could get to a hospital.

Now though, he needed to help rescue the others. The small crowd of Erika's employees-cum-spectators were now all on their feet, with a single girl slumped against Onix. Ash hurried forward, now much more (if not entirely) steady on his feet.

"Is she alright?" Ash asked immediately as he reached Brock and Misty, feeling a tinge of guilt that he hadn't until now given a thought to the other peoples' conditions. Misty looked uncertain, her eyes going back to the girl, but Brock nodded.

"She'll be fine once we get out of here," he replied. "We think it's just a broken leg, and that's the worst injury of the lot. We were really lucky."

"Real lucky to be caught in an explosion," Misty interrupted, her voice more hysterical than having any real malice. "We've got to get out of here, we need to find out what's going on."

Ash nodded, inclined to agree with her this once. Before they could argue over a course of action however, one of the girls shouted, "Fire!"

Everyone looked in the direction she was pointing. Sure enough, the grey haze had turned much darker, and the skylight was now almost full of a thick black smoke and the acrid tang of it began to concentrate around them.

"It must have been the Vermillion Pipeline," a small, mousy-haired girl with a round, heart-shaped face exclaimed. "That must have been that first explosion, right before the gym blew up."

Ash's memory was hazy, but he didn't disagree. "We need to get out of here then," he said to Brock, then turned to Misty. "We can use Squirtle and Starmie – we need to help put out the fire."

"Are you crazy," Misty hissed. "A gas fire! And the Vermillion Pipeline is huge – we need to get out, not get closer."

"We can't just not do anything, we can't just let people die." Ash declared, furious. He hated this, this sense of impotence. Lashing out at Misty was his natural reaction, as was hers for lashing out at him. At the look of hurt that flashed across her face, he realized a moment later that he'd gone too far. "I didn't mean... I'm sorry," he said, turning away.

"Save it," Brock snapped, his normally calm and amicable demeanor absent. "Ash, Misty's right. We need to get out, get everyone safe, and let the emergency crews take care of it. They'll have teams in place in case something happened to the pipeline. Our job is to look after the people here, understood?"

Ash nodded, abashed. Misty nodded as well, though didn't look at him, and even he realized how absurd it was that they'd be fighting at a time like this.

Erika was leading her own group of people outside, and called out for the three to follow. Carefully, they picked their way across the wrecked interior of the gym, still quietly discussing who would do what once they got out.

Getting out of the gym, they realized all arguments were moot.

The streets were rapidly filling with people, most more in a state of shock than actually injured or otherwise hurt. Houses and shops were slightly worse for the wear – most of those nearby now lacking some if not all of their windows – but most had come through relatively unscathed.

"This isn't right," Erika said softly that Ash only just heard it.

"It's terrible," Brock replied in agreement.

"No," Misty interrupted. "This isn't right. You said there were two explosions, right?" She asked the girl Ash had noticed before, and she nodded slightly, clearly confused. "But look around, there's nobody's really hurt. Unless you were actually in the gym at the time, you could easily attribute all of this damage to the first explosion."

"And one explosion could be considered an accident, but two clearly isn't," Erika finished grimly.

"How far away is the pipeline?" Brock asked after a moment. "Surely it's not actually in town?"

Erika shook her head. "No, the refinery is well out beyond the outskirts – it's housed in the old fort that sits at the top of The Downs – just off of Route 16."

Misty gasped. "That must have been enormous..." she trailed off, looking ill. She grabbed Ash's arm, squeezing it painfully. He let her.

"If we can't help there, then I need to get to the center now," Ash interrupted, reacting to his greater helplessness with at least being able to help Bulbasaur. "And you need to get her to the hospital too," he amended, jerking his head towards the girl riding Onix.

Nobody argued, and so they moved as quickly as they could through the increasingly clogged streets, Onix proving his worth once more by parting a path for them to follow.

They walked in near silence, each dealing with the shock alone in the confines of their mind. As they cut through the park, Ash realized just how close to the blast he would have been, had the blast occurred earlier when he was outside with Pikachu. 'If I hadn't snuck in, I'd have been right here. And Brock and Misty - there wouldn't have been a battle, and everyone would have been in the shop, not out watching our fight. It's a good thing Team Rocket...'

His eyes widened in surprise. No – Team Rocket was never a good thing. Team Rocket had sent him into a building with the flimsy excuse of their own twisted sense of honor. He stopped, horrified. By going in himself, he'd guaranteed that the gym leader – the most renowned pokèmon handler in the entire city – was also present.

He swore. And he'd fallen for it! Baited by his need for a badge.

"Brock," he whispered as softly as he could to prevent Misty from overhearing his damning testimony. "Team Rocket did this. They... they're the ones who dressed me up like this." He realized just then that he was still dressed like a girl, though he'd lost the wig along the way. It didn't seem to matter now.

Brock stared at him, mouth open slightly. "Team Rocket helped you? Jessie and James?" He said at last, his voice also hushed. Ash nodded, though didn't – couldn't - look the older boy in the eye.

Brock nodded slightly, clapping an arm on Ash's free shoulder. "Thanks for telling me. Don't worry - I'll take care of it," he said, then moved away, calling out for Erika.

However Brock hoped to explain the situation without condemning Ash, he never found out. For the third time in the hour, an explosion rocked Celadon City. Silence reigned for a moment, then as one the denizens look skyward, easily finding the great plumes pouring out of the Celadon Tower, the second-largest skyscraper in all of Kanto and far and away the largest in the city. A loud rumbling roar filled the air, like the sound of an avalanche, as the building – slowly at first, the quickly picking up speed – crumbled to the ground.

Nervous curiosity turned to full blown panic, and the mob ran.