Chapter 2

Blurred strips of color. That's all that one could see if one didn't look a few feet beyond the windowpane.

Brock had been in an especially contemplative mood since beginning his newest quest to find his friend. He supposed that just sitting there gazing out a window while going over three hundred miles an hour would not improve his present brooding.

He shook his head in an effort to organize his thoughts, at least. While the modern magnet train he was taking would considerably cut the time needed to reach the Johto region, it was still going to take nearly a day to reach the end of the line. That line ended in Goldenrod City, Johto's largest metropolitan sprawl. In fact, he couldn't directly travel by train anywhere else; the regional governors wouldn't allow any other stations along the way to mar the lush landscape that was speeding past.

And so Brock decided he would have to force himself to relax, at least for the next half hour as the train would be spending that time underground. For he knew that afterwards, things were going to get much more interesting.

True to his thoughts, they did. No less than ten minutes after the underground passage flew away from him, a light tittering sound began to announce itself from Brock's travel pack.

Groaning inwardly, he opened up one of its many pockets and took out his Pokégear. Flipping the device open and holding it in front of him, Brock answered the incoming call and was rewarded with a pair of icy green eyes staring right back at him. "Hey, Misty," he said with forced cheer. "A little early for you to be up, isn't it?" Looking at the corner of the device, he confirmed that it was only quarter to seven in the morning.

"I'm glad for your continued concern for my well being," Misty said dryly. "Now where the hell are you? Wait, why are the things outside your window moving so fa – you're on a train aren't you?" She suddenly demanded. Brock silently cursed himself for not being careful where he tilted the visual pickup on his device. That and the fact that he hadn't taken the call as audio-only.

"Well, I, uh, yes. I'm on a train," he admitted.

Two heartbeats passed. "To where?" Misty was eerily calm. Brock didn't like that one bit.

"Um,… Pewter City?" It was a lie. A horrible, horrible lie. Misty knew Brock was a terrible liar. He knew he was a terrible liar.

At least Misty was currently kind enough not to point that out. Instead, she simply cut to the chase. "You're going to see him, then?" It had been two days since the ceremony, and from that night the redhead no longer referred to Ash as anyone but him. That was one of the reasons Brock hadn't told anyone where he was going: to prevent Misty from murdering the poor boy for his insensitivity.

"Yes," he said. "But before you say anything, no, I don't know exactly where he is. It's been months since I last spoke to him. He could be anywhere. Besides," he smirked, trying to lighten the mood, "I wanted to talk to him when I next met him. Not bring you along and have to be satisfied with praying over him while he's in traction at the nearest hospital."

"I think I could manage to control myself."

All that answered her on the other end was a quirked eyebrow. "Fine," she grumbled. "Just…let me know how it goes, okay? Keep me updated."

"You've got it. Take care," he said. Misty merely nodded, then hung up. Brock let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Well, that went a lot better than I expected. Of course, that still doesn't mean she won't try to follow me.

But Brock had other even more important things to worry about than a crazed teenage girl. First and foremost would be finding out where Ketchum even was.

Fortunately, Brock thought he might have something to go on. Ash had mentioned to him once that he had wanted to bring all his pokémon that he'd previously battled with together in one place to train. Brock had thought this a strange comment to make: trainers were usually only allowed to carry up to six pokémon at a time. In fact, as a pokémon Breeder, Brock was all too aware that even one pokémon was a chore to take proper care of. But Ash had obtained dozens of these creatures over the years. Therefore, the kid would have needed special permission to obtain his entire fighting force.

Brock snapped his fingers. Of course. It's so obvious. Flipping his Pokégear back open, Brock immediately dialed Professor Oak's number.

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Unfortunately, the answer wasn't so obvious. Though Professor Oak was the caretaker of all of Ash's stored pokémon, even he had not heard from the recluse Trainer in quite some time, let alone be privy to Ash's secret training grounds.

"It's been weeks since he called," the older man was currently saying. "And I most certainly did not give him permission to release all of his pokémon into his care. Not only because I would never give permission to such a request, but also because he never asked for such a thing."

Brock considered his other options. "Well," he said slowly. "Can you at least tell me what his current team consists of, Professor?" The graying man on the other end, whose face was creased with years of laughter, smiled back. "Of course I can. It's readily accessible in his public record. I'll send the file directly to that device you're carrying."

Mere seconds later, an icon pinged on Brock's lower view screen. "Thank you, Professor. I'm sure this will help."

"Take care now. Call me anytime if you need anything." And with that, the waving visage departed.

Brock then proceeded to retrieve the file. Obviously, Ash's ever-present Pikachu was at the top of the list. However, no one else on the roster served to jog anything in Brock's memory.

Then, something clicked. There was one thing that stood out, but it wasn't so much what was there as what wasn't. There's only five pokémon currently registered on his team. Normally, this fact wouldn't have been of concern, for many Trainers kept an open spot on their lineup in case they caught a new member. But Ash rarely caught new pokémon.

That left just two likely options. Either Ketchum was only working with an incomplete team, or he was also using an unregistered pokémon. And it was the latter option that was interesting, because there was only one pokémon that Brock could think of that Ash would use that would fit the description. Charizard.

Digging hastily through his bag, Brock finally procured the item he sought: his little blue book. The book that he kept by his side at all times, and served to chronicle all the beautiful girls he'd met, or had wanted to meet, on his travels.

Resisting the incredible urge to browse through its worn and often yellowed pages, he finally found the entry he was looking for. The phone number he had managed to procure back then was old, but, what else could he do? There were no other leads.

Brock dialed the number and crossed his fingers.

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It was yet another dull day.

The sun was blazing down on the scorched earth below, the canyon she was presently scouring her sight with being filled to the brim with the cries of great beasts of war. Occasionally, a jet of flame would reach up from the forested groves below, trying to lick the sky and aid the sun in imparting heat to the world.

Yes, it was a day like any other. Well, no, actually, thought Liza the Beast Trainer as she heard the telephone next to her bed begin to ring. Apparently, this isn't just any day. I'm actually getting a call. Suddenly realizing the stupidity of her just standing there in curiosity of the device vibrating in front of her, she earnestly picked up the receiver, intent on talking to someone other than herself or Charla for a change.

"Hello?" she asked. All she heard at first from the other end was static. Then, quickly realizing the problem, she went to readjust the satellite transceiver that allowed her to have service this far out. "Hello, are you still there?"

"Is this Liza?" a strangely familiar voice asked. Liza fought hard to place it.

"Yes," she asked. "But it's rather rude for the caller to not introduce himself. Who are you, and…well, how did you get this number?"

The voice decided to ignore the latter question, but she swore she heard sobbing when it replied, "You don't remember me, my sweet?"

'My sweet?' no one's ever called me anything like that before, except… "Uh, wait. Are you that Ketchum kid's friend? Brian?"

"Brock" he corrected. Yes, she definitely heard sobbing this time. But it was quickly replaced with a serious tone. "Yes, I am a friend of his. In fact, it's on his behalf that I'm calling. Do you happen to know if he had stopped by to visit recently? Possibly to pick up his Charizard?"

"Why, yes, he did," she stated fondly. Though she didn't quite recall his friends who had been travelling with him at the time, Liza did recall the spunky pokémon Trainer himself. He had made quite the impression on the residents of Johto during his previous travels, what with his never-ending passion and love for pokémon and the art of the battle.

"But I wouldn't say 'recently'," she corrected. "It was about two months ago, now. Said he had some special training in mind for his pokémon, and that included Charizard if he was so willing." Though technically no longer under Ash's possession, his Charizard deemed the boy a good and trustworthy companion and was therefore willing to do whatever Ash asked of him.

That, and Liza had realized the poor thing was bored out of its mind. Like its trainer, the fiery pseudo-dragon was passionate about constantly testing its strength. As a result, it was amongst the strongest of its species here in the Charicific Valley. And that was saying something. It could learn nothing further while cooped up in these lands, and so she had been happy to see him depart with his former master.

"Ah. I see. Well, that's good news, I guess. Did Ash happen to mention where he would be headed?"

"Well, no, not really," was the response. Brock closed his eyes in frustration, even though Liza couldn't see it. And my one lead ends up at a wall. The walls of a valley filled with flaming monsters, no less. How poetic. "But," continued the voice, and Brock perked up at the sound, "he did ride out on Charizard when he left. And he didn't stay within the confines of the Valley when he took off. Headed off to the north, as I recall."

Brock fell silent, looking out the window at the now plainly visible Mount Silver rising in the distance. He tried to recall what exactly was due north of Charicific Valley, and couldn't think of anything that he and his friends had gone through on their previous adventures that would draw Ash back there. He forcefully brought himself back to the conversation.

"Thanks, Liza. For everything. You've been a big help, I'm sure."

"I don't know about that. I just gave you a direction your friend might have taken."

"I know. But it's better than what I had." Brock then ended the conversation in the best way he knew how: with a request for a dinner date, time, and place. As usual, it was promptly denied, and the disheartened pokémon Breeder hung up and hung his head in defeat. It was going to be a long trip.

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What had begun as a simple training exercise had turned into an utter nightmare. Balls of green flame were shooting everywhere, hitting the trees of the surrounding wood, and setting the hedges on fire. His loyal yellow companion was hot on his heels, however, so at least one thing was right in the world.

They were running through the brush, now, all the while choking on the surrounding clouds of pungent smoke and burning sap. But that was better than staying anywhere near the source of all this trouble. Screams and roars of anger and aguish cut through the air and thickened his blood.

And although Ash Ketchum knew he had gotten himself into tight spots before, this was something even he couldn't handle.