1: Fire

Flames danced with wild abandon as they feasted upon a wealth of suitable fodder, its searing tendrils whipping about as the fire edged towards an inferno. Water, spilling freely from broken pipes, nipped feebly at the fringes of the blaze, pools quickly growing amongst debris scattered about the floor. As the liquid seeped beneath the chunks of rubble it became tinted a faint pink, slowly deepening towards crimson. Watching the scene unfold from a distance, a woman, face a picture of detached disbelief, struggled to move forward, her entire being seemingly frozen. Her laggardly pace eventually drew her closer to a prone form sprawled out across the floor, feet shuffling through a pool of blood, streaking scarlet trails along the floor.

"Misty…" a distant voice consoled vainly, the host watching with growing exasperation, "Misty!"

The stern tone tore Misty away from her mindless march, eyes flaring wide before narrowing as they truly beheld the wreckage before them. Swinging her gaze from the far wall with its twin holes punched in it, to the hall where a majority of the aftermath sat hidden from her view, finally resting on the corpse she had unwittingly passed moments ago. Anger boiled up within her, seemingly feeding off the flames burning nearby, eyes settling on the man who had called her name. His clothing was unsoiled despite the recent commotion; his shoulders set almost defiantly rigid, cobalt eyes locked in Misty's direction in silent waiting. The tight set of his jaw belied the stewing rage beneath his stoic features. Increasingly perturbed by his counterpart's silence, the man observed, "Someone was bound to have reported those explosions, which means we'll be swarming with uniforms. And since this is a gym they're likely to bring some League lackeys with them."

A scowl met the statement as Misty snarled her response, "I'm aware of that, Ethan. So I suggest you get your ass in gear and start fixing the problem!"

"Yes ma'am," Ethan answered smartly, recognizing Misty's infamous temper, and, not wishing to incur her wrath, hurried off.

Feeling the sweltering heat intensify with each step, Ethan snatched a trio of orbs hanging from his belt, tossing them towards the raging fires. The spheres of red and white tumbled through the air, splitting apart mid-flight in a brilliant flash of light. From the light morphed three shapes, two appearing distinctly similar as the brightness of the illumination faded. Reattaching the returned orbs to his belt, pace slowing to a walk, Ethan eyed the summoned creatures.

A duo of frog-like beasts, skin a deep hue of blue, stood upright, focused intently on their master. Also with them stood a being similar in form to a turtle, its skin a lighter shade of blue, feathery white ears twitching at the roar of the fire.

"All right you three," Ethan spoke in a commanding timbre, stopping a stride from his wards, "we need to put out these fires and clean up the mess, and we need it done now."

Needing no further instructions, the trio of pokémon broke off to battle the blaze, bathing their surroundings in a rush of water. "Poliwraths, into the hall, we need that fire out to clear out the debris," Ethan directed from a distance, mentally adding with a slight shudder, 'and some bodies.'

Attention moved to the final member of the team, Ethan found fires still burning. With a hint of disgust he egged on the turtle-type pokémon, "Come on Wartortle, we'll need all the muscle we can muster to move some of the debris. Pick up the pace."

Instant response showed in a thicker stream of water dousing the waning fire, plumes of white steam billowing upwards. Fire finally succumbed to its natural weakness, the wartortle grunting in satisfaction before joining its partners in their effort. Between the three of them they made short work of the remaining flames, allowing their master entrance to scan the wreckage, his eyes catching sight of a hand beneath a large chuck of material. The possibility of survival, from first the blast and then the fire, was slim at best, but Ethan decided to guide his beasts to the slab of rubble. "On the count of three, lift that chunk and stack it near the door," he ordered, indicating the door he referenced with his gaze, "One. Two. Three."

With little apparent effort, the pokémon hefted the sizable load and moved it towards the intended destination, revealing what Ethan hoped to be a living individual. Instead, only the hand and forearm remained, severed jaggedly at the elbow, blood still leaking into the surrounding water.

"Damn," the word barely made it past Ethan's lips as he shook his head, his mind telling him it was to be a long, unpleasant cleanup.


"Those arrogant bastards think they can get away with killing my friends, trying to blow up my gym, and trying to kill me?! Oh, they'll soon find out we can play that game, too," Misty fumed, storming down a lengthy corridor.

Her eyes bore ahead but saw only the frozen image of the masked figure who had violated the sanctity of her gym, a ironic notion that earned a stiff snort. The more she stared at the mental image of the man, the more she realized how little she knew. 'He was smart enough to find a way into the gym, yet dumb enough to come alone. He only needed one shot to kill one of my men, but that could've been nothing but luck. And did he run because he realized he was outmatched, or because he was a coward?'

Questions and uncertainties continued to taunt her as she reached the end of the hall, a sudden hesitation overcoming her as her hand reached for the door. Reporting something to the boss, as she had planned, with so little information was ill-advised, for they weren't long on patience, especially at such a late hour. The luxury of concrete facts was unavailable to her, but the fact remained ingrained in her mind: men were dead and her gym was in partial ruin because of an individual dressed in a Team Magma uniform.

Steeling herself, Misty moved into the room, flipping on the lights as she passed through the door. A simple, uncluttered office lay visible under the artificial illumination. Two chairs flanked a desk positioned near the far wall, a high-back chair sitting opposite the wooden furnishing from them. Several stacks of papers sat atop the lacquered timber, hidden amongst them rested a phone for which Misty reached. With the cool plastic of the receiver nestled in her palm, she carefully dialed a number committed to memory, pressing the handset to her ear.

Thrice the phone rang before the audible click of the phone being answer crossed the line, a throaty, "Yes?" following soon after.

"Sir, it's Misty from the Cerulean City Gym. I have some urgent news," she spoke, hoping any trepidation was absent from her voice.

A relenting sigh, "Continue."

"Moments ago my gym, along with several Aqua personnel, came under attack from a Magma agent. We lost five of our own and sustained an unknown degree of damage to the building-"

"And the Magma agent?" her boss interrupted, a tinge of irritation in the question.

"He escaped."

Tense silence occupied the line, a displeased breath breaking the quiet, "I see."

A void appeared again, leaving Misty unsure of what her boss was pondering, so she decided to press ahead. "Si-"

"I want you, and any remaining people you have, to see if you can't figure out who this person was and why they killed several of my men!"

The connection was broken before Misty had a chance to acknowledge the order, a dull buzz droning in her ear. Returning the headset to its cradle, hand lingering for a moment, Misty gazed about the lonely confines of her office. She had just been tasked with finding the proverbial needle-in-the-haystack, but there was one thing she was certain of. If it came to it, she would leave a trail of corpses until she found the one responsible and made him pay the price for his actions.


Dim light radiated from a silent television set, unblinking eyes watching the screen with a vacant stare. Dark circles discolored already dark skin, ringing eyes that seemed little more than narrow slits; the man to whom they belonged sunk low in an armchair. The gentle rise and fall of the man's chest was the first sign of life, followed by the gradual closing of his glazed eyes. For a moment it appeared as though sleep had found him, but the sharp ring of a nearby phone ended the quiet respite. Releasing an annoyed sigh, the man allowed his hand to fall heavily upon the offending device, drawing the receiver to his ear. "What?" he breathed in greeting, hand rubbing across the bridge of his nose after ruffling chocolate-colored spikes of hair, "no, you didn't wake me."

"You sound like hell," the voice ribbed with a light chuckle.

"Bet I don't look much better," the weary man groaned, hand flattening his naturally spiky locks, his head settling back against the chair, "so what is it you want? I doubt you called at this ungodly hour to shoot the breeze."

"We have a bit of a situation," the voice answered deadpan, "apparently Aqua pulled a stunt at one of our bases, and the bigwigs aren't willing to take it sitting down."

"So you want me to make them regret they ever messed with you guys?"

"Precisely," the voice confirmed succinctly, "Plus we both know you have a grudge to settle with them."

The latter statement rang true in the man's mind, his gaze shifting towards a photo held in his hand, its contents hidden within the darkness. Sadness tugged at him as his eyes welled up with tears, a grieved snarl twisting his lips. "Just get back to me when you have the particulars figured out," he spoke into the receiver, dropping it back into its housing.

Giving the photo one last glance before leaning it against the phone, rising from his seat, the man moved across the room. The television snapped off with a single button press, complete darkness settling over the area. Heading for bed, the man knew sleep would find his weary mind, because soon he'd spill Aqua blood once again after such a long time.