So it's me, Farla again. I suspect most of you are skipping these, but for those of you who aren't:

This chapter is heavily edited, in part because I felt guilty over all the nice people who offered advice and general guilt over giving readers something I knew was flawed, and in part because I got a stomach ache reading over the chapter. The storyline kept primarily intact, but a lot is reworded.

* * *

The assembled pokemon are normal enough. They are not godlike legendaries, or lab-created, or even particularly high level. And they are enough. More than enough. They're only facing a man, after all.

The man they've cornered is several years over twenty. He's one of the best, or was. But he has only two pokemon left, soon to be one. This uprising came at an inopportune time, between the deaths of most of his team and the raising of their replacements. Belatedly he considers that perhaps it would have been better to have healed them, irredeemably weak as they were, because perhaps they really were better than nothing. And failing that, he probably should have treated that gyarados of his when he heard the news, but he really hadn't thought it would get this far.

He can still win this. It's likely, even, though with his life at stake he'd prefer certainty. His last pokemon should be strong enough to beat these. His methods were brutal, but they got results, and he'd bet on his last pokemon against a team of six raised the standard way. That's why he did it, after all.

The real question is if he'll win against the next group. Or the next.

He throws his pokeball. The charizard that appears is bony and looks striped from the scars, but it's strong enough to win all the same. He yells the first order.

The charizard's neck twists about to face him. As it inhales, he has time to think bitterly that Nidoking wouldn't have done this. Nidoking was obedient. But Nidoking is dead.

So is he, in a moment.

* * *

Elsewhere, some had taken the event more seriously.

A woman, or a girl – her age is hard to place, and there's something childish in her manner – is standing almost quietly. She's fidgeting and trying not to, which makes it all the more pronounced. She's distinctive in appearance, with tanned skin, yellow eyes and long reddish-blonde hair. She's wearing a Team Rocket uniform, and a cloak over her shoulders, a typical trainer's conceit.

"So are they?" she asks after a bit, a faint whine creeping into her voice. From the impatience in her voice, she's already asked this. "Are they really going to revolt?"

Her companion is less distinctive. She's probably around the same age, but if there's something childish about the first, there's something mature about the second, or perhaps just still. She has long black hair and white skin. Her eyes are closed and from her manner she might not have heard. She's not in any recognizable uniform.

But she does answer. "They already have. Others just aren't aware of it yet."

"So?"

"So."

The girl makes a frustrated noise, then cringes, covering her mouth reflexively and stepping back.

There's more silence. More fidgeting.

"So what am I supposed to do?"

Her companion doesn't answer. There's more silence.

"What are you going to do? Ice? I'll do that, okay?"

"That wouldn't be such a good idea. But it'd be best to join them, rather than stay here."

"You...really think so? It's that bad? What about the legendary pokemon, aren't they -"

"And whose side do you suppose those would be on?"

And there's more silence.

"So that's what we do. We can, right? I mean they'll let us and everything?"

"I can manage it."

"Um..."

"Of you as well. But don't cause trouble."

* * *

{So do we go?} asks the houndour, his voice hushed.

An arcanine answers. {We may be destroyed.}

{And yet, if the others fail, if the revolution fails, we will be destroyed after,} a houndoom says. {That is certain.}

{The pack has survived this long, hasn't it?} counters the arcanine.

{The pack is dying. The land is shrinking. It was only a matter of time. If the humans ever decided -}

{But they have not! This is not our fight!} shouts another houndour. {We-}

{We go.} A huge houndoom walks toward the center. {This will not be forgiven. Eon has declared war, and the humans will answer it. If they lose, they will only come for us next.}

{What if Eon and the others manage to win without our help?} the arcanine asks. {Without our deaths?}

{I am not a coward,} the houndoom says flatly.

And that is that.

Across Kanto are similar conversations among the wild pokemon. Some end differently. But many do not.

* * *

She had heard the message early on, from others hiding in the secret places. There was a network of pokemon who were not wild but feral that spread throughout the cities, and through this network whispered a rumor, that a new creature had come, a creature who was made from pokemon but was one no longer. A creature with power. And that this new one had declared that it would destroy the humans forever.

And so one night she rose and faced the moon. Faint light played over the white marks that covered her body. {I will come to fight} she whispered to the darkness. {For what have I got left to lose?}

* * *

It had taken a long time for the rumors to reach him. He had picked a place far from them, where the wild pokemon considered humans as near mythical as humans had once considered him.

The rumors that did arrive were distorted, of a monster who attacked a great den of humans and killed them. What the 'den' had been he didn't know – some building or gathering place, he assumed. What the 'monster' was he also didn't know. Neither mattered. What mattered was the last bit that had remained intact through all the retellings. That there was be a war, and all pokemon were called to join.

He didn't wait to hear more. He didn't investigate. He didn't care if the war could be won. That it was happening was enough. He left at once.

* * *

And so Eon's army began to assemble. Packs of trained pokemon formed, hunting trainers and adding to their ranks, slowly heading toward the meeting area. Others went directly, some alone, some in pairs or groups.

Eon was waiting for them, with the pokemon she'd gathered and the four she'd taken from the labs in the beginning, Cinceon, Mixeon, and the silent pair who went by the nicknames Dawn and Dusk.

She had been a trained pokemon, so she understood the need for organization. When a charizard going by Scar came carrying the pokeball of a dying teammate, there were chanseys to take it and stolen medicines to use. When others came exhausted and hungry, there was food and places to sleep ready. She could be patient.

As their ranks swelled, a number of oddities slipped in without much fanfare. An espeon going plainly by Shine after the color of his fur, just another bitter wild. A soft-spoken houndoom with scars on her back and unusual strength for an abandoned pokemon, who stammered slightly when she first said her name and either could not or would not tell of her pack. An oddly vicious bellossom. A dragonite who called himself Memory and would say nothing more of himself. A mixed pack of growlithe and houndour. And others.

Nothing yet of importance.

While this happened Eon planned her next strike. She knew there were still many who waited for her to prove she had the power to pull off a true revolution, not a mere attack. And there were many, many humans left to kill.

~ We shall attack Viridian Forest first, ~ she announced to those who gathered. ~ The pokemon there are ready. We will kill the trainers within and cut Viridian and Pallet off from the rest of Kanto, to be attacked later. Cinceon will be in charge of the attack, and the local pokemon will be enough to handle this. Humans are fools. By the time they realize we control the forest, it will be far too late. ~