The time that elapsed from the instant we entered the roof, found a ladder, arrived in the casino, flipped the secret switch behind a poster on the wall and revealed a staircase was approximately forty-five minutes (I don't wish to bore you with the details).

Anyway, to cut a long story short, we were in.

We were all crouched on the staircase, hiding behind the banister in case we were seen by any Rocket grunts.

"Man," I thought, "The probability of us succeeding is one in a million."

And then I smiled, as I remembered the quote from Terry Pratchett, "But magicians have calculated that million-to-one chances crop up nine times out of ten."

"Screw the odds," I thought, "Let's just do this thing!"

I was about to race down the remainder of the stairs, and charge gallantly at the Rocket grunts we could see (three, to be precise), when I was yanked back.

"Don't do anything too crazy," Chad, who had been the one to stop me, whispered.

"I can't help it," I replied, "I am an insane person. Anyway what do you propose we do?"

"Attack," was Michael's one-word reply.

I had to resist a strong urge to bang my head loudly against the wall. "Rephrase: How do you propose we attack? We only have two Pokémon; one of which is the overrated, completely useless Pikachu – shut up," I continued, before Deonaé could defend her Pokémon's reputation, "And the other is the very large, very heavy Nidoking –"

"Aggron is both larger and heavier; I'd beat you in a fight," Michael interrupted (the question of Nidoking vs Aggron had been a point of debate between us for quite some time).

"– Which, if I release him in this cramped space," I continued, completely ignoring the interruption, "Will squish either us or the Rocket grunts."

"So? Just squish the grunts." Travis stated.

"I don't want to go to jail for homicide, thank you very much."

"I can go after 'em," Michael commented.

It certainly seemed like the best course of action, so I nodded. "Alright." And as he expertly leapt over the stair rail, rolling on impact with the floor and reached up to the hilt of his sword, I yelled out after him, "Just remember to not kill them!"

The first one was easy – Michael caught him completely by surprise and he went down like a sack of potatoes when the hilt of the sword collided with the back of his head.

However, now the other two knew about the attack, and were firing (Team Rocket certainly handled guns better than they handled Pokémon). I wasn't worried so much about Michael as about us, as we were in quite serious danger of being hit by ricocheting bullets.

"Jondré," I said, not bothering to whisper anymore (it would have been impossible to hear me over the sound of the gunfire anyway), "Can you try creating a Psychic shield next time one comes this way? Just to see if it can indeed hold up."

Not even a full minute after I had spoken, a chance came by to test his powers. And it turns out that, while his shields are strong enough to withstand large, fairly slow forces (for example, the rebound energy caused by two Solar Beams colliding), it cannot withstand small, fast forces (for example, a bullet).

"Well," I commented, as I heard a thud in the background, which was most probably the sound of another grunt succumbing to Michael's ninja skills, "At least now we know, instead of trying it out in a narrow corridor when the bullets were actually aimed at us, and not the wall."

After a small time lapse, I heard another thud, and we all took that as our cue to come out from hiding.

We searched the entire area, but didn't find even a single Pokéball.

"Now what?" Travis asked, rather dejectedly, "I miss my epic flying Dragonair."

"Dragonairs cannot fly," I pointed out.

"They can."

"I'm pretty sure they cannot…"

"Ten bucks says they can."

"You're on," I said, shaking hands.

"So," I thought, "there's no Pokémon here. That means they must be somewhere else."

"Maybe there's another floor?" I continued my thoughts aloud. (The only staircase we had found in our search was the one leading back up to the casino, although there were remnants of others.)

"I found an elevator," Deonaé helpfully said.

"Why didn't you say so?!" I exclaimed, wondering why this important discovery had been kept from me.

"Which way?" Deonaé indicated the direction and I strode off before she could say another word.

"But," she called out after me, "there's kinda a problem…"

I had reached the elevator in question before she had finished her sentence and one glance was all I needed to see the crisis.

"Pikachu," I said, holding my left hand out to receive the electric rat while I crouched in front of the obstacle.

"But why –?"

"Explanation later; Pikachu now."

I soon felt the cold metal of the Pokéball pressed into my palm. After I had chucked it into the air to release the useless Pokémon (I couldn't believe I had been reduced to relying on Pikachu), I glanced at my Pokédex to check its moveset and sighed in relief. "Good," I thought, "It does know Iron Tail."

I turned my attention once more to the card-key security lock system that the elevator had and started to explain as I worked.

"Cards like these work with a magnetic strip," I said, after I had commanded Pikachu to use Iron Tail and hold it for as long as possible. "Only three metals can be magnetized; Iron, Nickel and Cobalt. The most common method of doing so," I continued, while flicking Pikachu's cheeks in order to create electricity, "Is to run an electric current through the metal."

I swept Pikachu's metal tail through the slot and the elevator doors opened soundlessly.

"Security cards shouldn't work that way," Chad commented, "Each card has a specific 'barcode'."

I shrugged, "I was gonna say that, since Pikachu's tail is still an organic object, although it is made of iron, it can conform to the necessary shape in order to open the door. But in truth," I laughed, "I have no idea how that worked."

We filed into the elevator (it was barely large enough to hold us all), and I went over our battle plan for the second floor.

"This time, there can be no hiding – nowhere to hide. So we've only got one option. When those elevator doors open, we must all launch into full-fledged attacks on however many grunts are in the room. Any objections?"

No-one spoke openly, though I did hear someone give a tiny squeak of terror.

I noticed that my hand was shaking as I reached towards the 'BF2' button inside the elevator.

"Well, it's too late to go back now," I thought.

And I pressed it.