Chapter 3

Pokemon Master,

We have your fiancée, Miss Misty Waterflower. Please study the enclosed photograph. You will see that Miss Waterflower's condition is dire. We will continue to mistreat her until you surrender our Pokemon back to us. The sooner you agree, the better for her wellbeing. We will contact you shortly with details on a time and location for the trade. Take a good hard look at the photo, Pokemon Master. And, while you're at it, go ahead and call the police. They can't help you. Only you can save your fiancee's life.

T.R.

An emotional earthquake tore throughout Ash Ketchum's body. He shuddered uncontrollably, his legs suddenly like wobbly stilts. His arms trembled as though frostbitten, and even his jaw ached from the vibrations. This terrible quake ripped through Ash until he buckled, kneeling upon his office floor. Ash's hands quivered until he nearly shred the paper within his fingers. It were as though he were physically experiencing a Rageattack.

Ash's face burned as a smoldering fury festered within his gut! This anger boiled until he felt that he could actually spit flames. Sweat dribbled down Ash's brow, the perspiration stung his eyes. but he lacked the will to even wipe it away.

His life had just been wrenched from him.

A whisper within Ash urged him to curl up and die. But as he reread the paper, Ash knew that he had to stand back up. He had to gather his wits. He had to fight. He had to fight for something far more important than any Pokemon battle: he had to fight for love.

Misty had only been missing for six hours, but Ash had immediately suspected that Team Rocket was to blame.

Ash steadied his hand long enough to get a good hard look at the photograph. This photo had accompanied the ransom letter. In the photo Misty was huddled upon a floor, and she looked as though she had been trampled by a crazed herd of Tauros. Misty's face was splattered with blood, her hair was a mangy knot of gore and her right eye was swollen shut.

Ash only wished that a crazed Tauros was to blame, at least a Pokemon would not have meant to harm her. But Misty's injuries were not caused accidentally by a Pokemon. They were caused purposely by a fellow human. A Rocket. A Rocket who harmed her simply because Ash loved her.

A stranger's hand was on Misty's face, this person was forcing her to look at the camera. An aftershock streaked through Ash's body . . . the emotional quake had not finished with him. The room spun dizzily and Ash felt as though he were caught within a whirlpool and sinking to his death.

The Rocket bastards had Misty! They were hurting her! How could this have happened? How did they get her? Did they abduct her after she had arrived in Cerulean City? Her sisters never saw her. Or did they do it before? Someplace between the restaurant parking lot and Cerulean? Misty's driver, Old Hal, was also missing. Did they kidnap him too? Or did they dispose of him and hijack the limousine? Ash buried his face in his hands. If they did hijack the limousine then that meant . . .

. . . I could have saved her.

Why the hell hadn't he checked the limo before Misty got in? How could he have been so careless? What if Misty did not survive this nightmare? What if the Rockets killed her?

This is my fault! Ash's thoughts lashed him mercilessly. If she dies it will be my damn fault!

Ash's office door clicked open. In walked his right hand: Lance the Dragon Master. Pikachu came scurrying in behind Lance. Ash's electric mouse had taken a liking to the Dragon Master, and the two regularly went out for lunch. Lance would share the ketchup from his burgers and Pikachu loved him for it. Lance was currently carrying a bag of take-out food for Ash, but he dropped it when he saw the Pokemon Master shaking upon the floor.

"Ash!" Lance bolted toward his friend.

"Pika!" Pikachu ran in frantic circles around his best friend.

Lance hoisted Ash to his feet and helped him over to the sofa. "What's going on? Are you ill, Ash? I'll call a doctor—"

"No!" Ash raised a hand, indicating silence. "Look, Lance, LOOK!" Ash stuffed the letter and photo into Lance's hand.

Lance focused upon the evidence, his expression grave. "No!" He gasped. "Where did you get this letter?"

Ash sighed woefully. He had already told Lance that Misty never arrived at her family gym. But Lance had convinced him that she probably just got sidetracked. Perhaps she ran into an old friend, went out for a coffee, went window-shopping for wedding dresses, the limo got a flat tire? Ash was desperate to believe these possibilities. He did not want to be a paranoid fiancé, calling Officer Jenny every time Misty was late. Even when Misty did not answer her cellphone, Ash convinced himself that she had just lost service. Nothing was wrong, he tried to tell himself, and Misty would call soon.

But the photo was like a slamming judge's mallet, confirming a devastating otherwise.

"A moment ago a Fearow was pecking on my window," Ash began, "I opened it up and the Pokemon dropped this envelope onto the rug. Then it just flew away. It all happened so fast, I should have sent out Noctowl to follow it, but-but I didn't. . . I let it get away." Tears were threatening Ash, and, at this point he did not care if Lance saw him weep. The woman he loved was gone.

"Okay." Lance took a deep breath, sounding as controlled as always. The Dragon Master was a true pro. If a disaster ever ravaged the land Ash knew that Lance would be calm and focused while everyone around him crumbled. Ash felt very fortunate to have him here now. "We obviously can not give the Rockets what they want, that goes without saying. We WILL find a middle ground. For now, we have got to find a way to stall for time. They're not going to get away with this, Ash. They won't take Misty away from you. Don't worry. We'll rescue her. I promise."

Ash nodded. He had no idea how his friend could make such a pledge, but coming from Lance, Ash believed it. He had too.

Ash placed Misty's photo face down on the sofa, he could not stand to look at it again.

The Dragon Master raked his fingers through his mane of red spikes. "Let me think." Lance stood and began pacing back and forth from one side of Ash's Masters Office to the other. Ash just watched him, his eyes shadowing every movement Lance made. "All right, this is what we are going to do . . ." Lance seemed confident. "I'm calling the Elite Four into a meeting. Can you be ready in ten minutes? I'm also calling Officer Jenny and Professor Elm. The professor happens to be in town, thank Zapdos, because we'll need him. I want all of us to sit down together. I have an idea."

"Sure, yes, of course." Ash took Lance's hand in his. "Thank you. I'm too upset to even think straight. I-I'll be in the meeting room in ten, no problem."

"Good." Lance hustled to the door. "Bring the letter and —" Lance flinched with sympathy. "—and the picture."

Ash only nodded. Lance left the room and Pikachu was at once upon Ash's lap, snuggling against his cheek. Had it not been for the tears rolling down his face, Ash would have looked like a statue. He was stiff, expressionless, with empty eyes . . . he had not the strength to even stroke Pikachu. Ash just sat there, his miserable thoughts thrashing his mind like a steel whip.

He absolutely could not - would not- unleash that sinister Pokemon upon the world. Ash would rather die than lose Misty, but he could not allow thousands more to die for Misty.

Six years ago, before Ash became the Pokemon Master, the world was introduced to Team Rocket's creation. A Pokemon unlike anything the world had seen before. Team Rocket had spent years creating it within a laboratory. They planned to use it to obtain world domination. To force all world leaders to submit to them. Ash had been eighteen at the time so he remembered this devastating day vividly. The day the Rockets released It. The day the entire city of Goldenrod was destroyed. The day 3,009 people and Pokemon were massacred. The day Professor Oak was murdered.

Ash trembled, this memory was still raw. He hated recalling details of this day . . . he HATED Team Rocket.

Ash took a deep breath, forcing his mind to organize the events which occurred then. It was important that he remember the helpless anger which he felt as he watched the events unfold on the television. The blood and the horror, he needed to recall them both to stay strong, to fight them now. He needed to remember what it felt like to lose Professor Oak, for that rage was the only thing which could give him strength now. That rage was something he could cling to.

When this monster was let loose upon Goldenrod, Officer Jenny's entire police department was defeated. Most of the Jenny's survived, but their Pokemon were obliterated. Johto and Kanto's Special Forces Units were called in and all were annihilated. As Goldenrod burned, the monster set it's sights upon Olivine City, and everyone knew that the carnage was not going to stop there. The Elite Four became the world's last hope. Lance was the reigning Master then, and he led the Elite Four in a gruesome battle against it. This Pokemon was a Psychic attack master— and it was going to a take a master to defeat it.

It was going to take Lance.

With the Elite Four by his side, Lance waged a battle against the Pokemon for three seemingly endless days. Most of the Elite Four's Pokemon were killed in the battle. The monster managed to reduce half of Olivine City to rubble. The Elite Four's Pokemon were simply not strong enough – even Karen, with her dark types, could not gain the upper hand. Team Rocket's Pokemon was equipped with a wide range of special attacks and defense boosters, it could even use Recover. The monster easily evaded nearly all assaults. It was supernatural, intelligent, and it had a ravenous appetite for blood.

It was on the third day of chaos that Professor Oak entered the scene. He had created a potion which would temporarily give the bearer (in this case: Lance's Dragonite) ghost-type properties and attacks. It was something the professor had been working on for some time, although no one ever learned quite why. Whatever his motivation, the potion was genius. The professor knew that this was the time to test it out, it might be Johto's last hope. As of then, Lance's Dragonite was the most powerful trained Pokemon on the planet. Therefore there was no Pokemon more befitting to give this potion to.

Team Rocket's monster observed the exchange between Lance and the professor. Outraged, it unleashed a fatal Psychic attack upon him. Professor Oak was killed instantly. But his death was not in vain. Blazing with ghost powers, Dragonite was able to finish off what so many other Pokemon had started before him. He took that genetic-disaster down and Lance caught it within a Master Ball.

Team Rocket was beyond furious. Lance and the Elite Four were physically assaulted by Rockets within moments of the monsters capture. Fortunately, Dragonite had just enough fight left in him to chase the Rockets away. The Rocket organization had clearly spent a fortune engineering this bizarre Pokemon. Even today no one knew what exactly that Pokemon was. It had not once been released from the Master Ball since Lance trapped it six years ago. Physically it was impossible to tell what the monster looked like, because it was dressed in a mechanical, computerized suit of armor. But Ash did recall that it stood upright like a human and had a thick muscular tail and amber eyes. Over the years many scientists had requested to study it, but Lance refused them all. It was not fit to be released or recreated.

The Dragon Master had the diabolical creature's Pokeball locked away in the highest security facility on the planet. Only the voice recognition, proven DNA, and pass code of the reigning Pokemon Master could unlock the safe where the monster was eternally being detained.

Team Rocket had launched several attempts to break into the safe, but had never even gotten close. Lance was bribed and his own life was threatened on more than one occasion, but he proved to be unconquerable. During his rein Lance had no wife or family, there was nothing to personally threaten him with. Team Rocket failed and failed over and over for six years to steal that beast back.

But, when Ash became the new Master last year, Team Rocket saw something: hope. Lance had passed on the grave responsibility to his successor. It was Ash's sworn duty to protect the world from this monster. He could not free it. Not for anything. Not even for Misty. This was a pledge that Ash did not make lightly. And it was a pledge that he intended to keep. He NEEDED to keep it – for all of the thousands of innocents who were slaughtered. So many people . . . so many Pokemon, all who died because of Team Rocket's greed. He owed it to them all. But most of all . . . Ash owed it to Professor Oak. Not a day went by that Ash did not miss his dear friend. He would never allow the professor's sacrifice to be wasted.

NEVER.

Ash gathered his thoughts in unison with Pikachu into his arms.

"Let's go, Pikachu. Lance and the Elite Four are waiting for us. I just know Lance has figured out a brilliant rescue plan. He has to have."

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"There, that's much better." Elite Rocket Shard announced, placing the finishing touches upon Misty's bandage. The blue-haired Rocket had spent the past several minutes securing a dressing around her forehead.

Since Glare, Remington, and N.K. took their leave, this Rocket had been busy tending to Misty's injuries. Her right eye was swollen, but her full vision had returned to it. Shard had also given her a small meal and some aspirin. Misty consumed everything ravenously. The nourishment helped to alleviate her nausea and dizziness. She would not say that she was 'grateful' for Shard's treatment, but she was relieved to have it. Misty's body had desperately needed medical attention as well as food and drink. Having something tangible in her stomach made her feel a bit better. Well, as good as one could possibly feel after being kidnapped, beaten and held for an impossible ransom.

Shard took Misty by the shoulders and carefully pulled her to her feet. The muscles in her legs felt like mere damp paper, there was barely any strength within them. She could hardly hold herself up. Shard took notice of this and kept his grip upon her shoulders to steady her. He led her slowly toward the rooms exit.

"Where are we going?" Misty hardly recognized her voice as her own, it was hoarse from the days many screams. Despite its croaky sound her voice held demand. Misty knew that commanding answers from a Rocket was risky, but at this point she did not care. She had been inside this godforsaken-box-of-a-room since arriving at the Rocket's base, so why would Shard be taking her anyplace else? Going elsewhere made her feel uneasy. She could only imagine the types of torture chambers these lunatics harbored within their base.

Shard busied himself with punching in a key code to open the door. He did not turn and look at her. "To your room of course, Miss Waterflower. If that pleases you?" He answered, truly sounding like the world's politest person ever.

Misty scoffed inwardly at his thoughtful words, Shard was a Rocket, a killer. But, she supposed that even a killer could be courteous from time-to-time . . . or a really good actor. If his kindness was indeed sincere, it struck her as very odd. Rockets were infamous for treating their captives like diseased Aipom's; they did not tend to their wounds or help them walk and especially did not speak with genteel tongues. So far, Shard seemed to be a very out-of-character Rocket. And that meant Misty needed to keep her guard up even more when around him.

"Your room is not far and it's quite comfortable, Miss Waterflower." Shard added, noticing her hesitancy.

"My room? Do I look stupid to you? How do I know you aren't taking me to a dungeon to electrocute me, or gas me or cut out my tongue?!" Misty was too physically depleted to stomp her foot or shove him, but, she crammed as much ferocity into her half-swollen stare as possible! Ash or Brock would have burst into tears had Misty ever burned them with such a stare-down, but Shard did not react in the slightest.

"Do you really want to stay in here, Miss Waterflower? A freezing cold, claustrophobically small room without so much as a toilet?"

"Of course not! But I don't want my tongue to be cut out either!"

A nearly-microscopic-hint-of-a-smirk seemed to tug at Shard's lips. "There will be no cutting off of your tongue, I can assure you, Miss Waterflower." He turned back to the keypad to finish entering the door code but, stiffened and faced her again. That near-microscopic-hint-of-a-smirk gave way to a large-unabashed-grin-of-amusement. "But only because I imagine that the 'tongueless-sounds' you'd make would be far more irritating than your incessant inquisition." The grin died on Shard's lips before Misty could even react to it. Had she been physically able to, she would have been its executioner via slapping it clear off his mouth! Shard's mirth was now replaced by his previous matter-of-fact Rocket facade. He continued as though no inappropriate jest had ever been made: "I've arranged for more comfortable quarters for you to stay, Miss Waterflower, until the switch is made. You'll have your own private bathroom with a shower. You will also have a bed and suitable clean clothes provided." Shard cocked his head. "That little frock you have on is hardly appropriate."

"Ohhh, I'm sorry that I didn't dress appropriately for my kidnapping today. I guess I missed the dress code memo. And you can forget it! I don't wanna change my clothes here! I refuse to let you creeps watch me undress!"

Shard failed to stifle an amused grunt, and Misty's face only burned. "I just mean," he went on, "it's very cold in here, Miss Waterflower. Warmer attire is far more appropriate for the duration of your stay. As you are presently our guest for an undetermined about of time. And, no worries, no one will be observing you in a state of undress."

Misty huffed, forcing herself not to react to the barefaced entertainment the Rocket was receiving from her frustration. She wanted to kick him in the groin! She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs! She wanted to demand that he take off that stupid mask and be faced with the torment she was enduring! But instead Misty did something very un-Misty-like . . .

She lowered her gaze to the floor. Verbally volleying with him was only enraging her and burning up her sparse energy reserves. Misty did not trust Shard but, unfortunately she had no freewill in this situation. While the Rocket was humoring her (justified) outbursts, she knew there was little chance of him actually giving a damn what she wanted. With a sigh, Misty admitted to herself that a more comfortable space would be a preferred prison . . . she did despise this cold little box room. But she would not admit this to Shard.

"Miss Waterflower?" Shard's cordial voice drew her attention just as the door hissed open. "I apologize for this, but I'm going to have to blindfold you until we arrive at your new room. It's protocol."

Misty braced herself, but said nothing as Shard tied dark fabric around her head. Unlike Remington who roughly forced the blindfold over her eyes, Shard was gentle. His fingers carefully brushed her hair to the side and he made sure that not one strand became entangled within the knot. Shard then lay his hand upon her shoulder again. Misty reprimanded her chilled skin for relishing how warm his gloved fingers were.

Shard guided her down a winding corridor. Despite receiving medical attention Misty was feeling weaker by the moment. She felt as though she were walking through wet cement. To make this journey worse, Misty's sense of balance was thrown completely askew by the darkness. Twice she stumbled and Shard caught her each time, not pressing onward until she was steady again. Reflexively, Misty almost thanked him, but then stopped herself. Shard was not worthy of any gratitude. It was HIS fault that her life may soon be over. His civility would come to a screeching halt once Team Rocket realized that Ash was not going to comply. Perhaps Shard would raise that big gun of his and slaughter her himself? No way would she spare even a polite word for him or for any of them! Misty Waterflower would go down with pride.

After rounding a final corner Shard halted. Misty heard the swish of an opening door and then he led her forward. Her blindfold was removed at once. Although Misty had only been blindfolded for a few minuets, her eyes ached while adjusting to the light.

Misty scanned her new prison: it was undeniably much nicer than the last one. The room was several times larger. There was a twin-sized bed dressed in a plush turquoise comforter and it even had a matching pillow. Next to the bed was a nightstand with a small lamp and a bottle of water. On the far wall was another door, Misty guessed it led to the bathroom. In one corner there was also a portable water cooler, conveniently to re-fill the bottle by the bed. The only other piece of furniture was a cupboard. Misty guessed that warmer clothing and towels may be inside.

Misty wanted to head straight for the bathroom, the dried blood in her hair needed to get scrubbed out. Strands of her hair were adhering to the scabbing wound and it was itchier than a Spinarak bite.

Misty took a step forward and wooziness ambushed her. Fortunately Shard had reflexes like a Hitmonchan, he caught her arm before the floor did.

"You will sit down." He ordered flatly. Misty nodded weakly, allowing him to lead her to the bed. Her backside surrendered into the soft comforter, allowing the warmth to embrace her like a hug. Such a simple familiar comfort suddenly meant more to Misty than she could even comprehend.

Shard reached beneath the bed and withdrew a medical kit. Misty watched as he opened the box and removed a small sort of flashlight. "Sit still." Shard instructed, shinning the light into one of her eyes and then the other. He seemed to be meticulously studying her pupils. Next Shard took out a stethoscope and blood pressure aneroid. He attached the blood pressure cuff to her forearm and also listened to her heartbeat. Misty shifted uncomfortably, but complied. She felt as though she were being examined by a qualified medical doctor not a murdering Rocket.

Shard was thorough in his examination of her vitals. He spent a good ten minutes looking in her ears, listening to her lungs, tapping on her knees, and even asking her to take deep breaths. All the while he continually asked her if she 'was okay', if he 'was being gentle enough', if 'anything hurt'. He had exceptional bedside manner . . . Misty clenched her jaw, aggravated beyond words! She wanted Shard to can this 'Mr. Nice Guy' performance and just be the maniac she knew he must truly be! Again Misty harnessed her temper and settled for a confused frown. How did some stupid Rocket know any of this medical stuff anyway? So far her experiences with Rockets (throughout her entire life) had only proven them all to be uneducated losers. Jessie and James were incapable of spelling their names, and the thought of them assessing vitals signs was inconceivable. But then again, Shard had introduced himself and an Elite Rocket. Misty didn't know what the Elite part meant, but she assumed his higher ranking was due to his more advanced skillset.

Finally Shard seemed satisfied with his examination and put his medical equipment away. "You don't appear to have a concussion, Miss Waterflower. Overall you are very healthy. Most likely your dizziness is due to dehydration and stress."

Misty's jaw popped! That was it! The time limit for her temper was UP! "Imagine that! Me? Stressed?! After being abducted and assaulted?! How shocking!" She spat the words like sewage.

Shard raised his brow but said nothing. He grabbed the water bottle from the nightstand and handed it to her. "Drink this. I'm going to get you some soup. Have you a flavor preference?"

Misty gaped at him, was this Rocket really taking a food order for her? "I lost my appetite." She seethed.

"Very well, I'll just choose a recipe for you." Shard stood up to his full height, clearly unfazed by her curtness. "Would you care to read a magazine? The new issue of Water Pokemon was just released. I daresay, given your field of expertise, you'll enjoy this read."

Was Shard actually attempting to engage her in conversation about Pokemon? Misty refused to grant him the dignity of a response. Misty held her head high, blatantly ignoring him.

Shard only continued: "It features a top notch research paper about the pre-evolution of Seel."

Pre-evolution-of-wha-wha-wha-WHAT?!

Misty fought to retain a disinterested facade, but the man progressed still: "This is a major evolutionary development. But I don't have to explain that to you. Had your engagement news not dominated social media, this would have been a massive headline today. A Seel was located off of the Seafoam islands without a horn. The deoxyribonucleic acid is not consistent with Seel, though the variation of inherited physical and behavioral characteristics is remarkably similar."

WHAT?! That can't be true. Misty pressed her lips together like magnets, it was all she could do to refrain from verbally vomiting all over him! I am a Water Pokemon EXPERT! If something this major had been discovered, I would have been the first to hear about it! Certainly before a Rocket! There is NO pre-evolved form of Seel. I mean, today has been pure hell, though . . . could I have really missed an announcement of this magnitude? No! NO WAY! He's messing with me for some screwed-up reason. He has to be.

Shard smirked that unbearably-annoying-smirk again. He was clearly enticed that Misty was suffocating the urge to berate him.

The knowledge that she wasn't sold on the information he presented only seemed to egg him onward: "The genome mapping is fascinating. This Pokemon had the potential to perform a Cotton Spore attack. It's part Grass-type. More interesting still, the Pokemon carries antibodies make it immune to fire-damage. It's also far smaller than a normal Seel and repeats the word 'Sweel'. 'Sweel' as in with a 'W'. Pretty cool, right?"

Misty could endure it no longer! Her temper now rivaled a Cinnabar volcano and she erupted! Actually bolting upward, upon her tippy-toes so that she could stare Shard right in the face (no, he was far too tall, but his chest should have been very afraid!). "What the hell?! I didn't hear anything about this! That would be huge news! HUGE! And I am NOT an idiot, I understand that 'Sweel' would have a dammed 'W'!" Misty barely resisted kicking him in the knee!

She HATED it here! She wanted to go home! She wanted to be in Ash's arms! Instead she was stuck in this terrible Rocket base! She had suffered physical harm! And was now pestered by some Know-It-All-Blue-Haired-Pretty-Boy-Brainiac-Rocket trying to debate her – the expert of this field – on Seels! It was horrendous!

Shard considered her voluminous outburst. He tilted his head like a curious Growlithe pup, thoughtfully tapping a finger to his chin. "Apologies, Miss Waterflower. I can only surmise that hearing about the Sweel from me must be quite a surprise for you." Misty had never heard chivalrousness and sarcasm so masterfully blended before.

If Misty were an Arbok she would have spewed Acid all over him! How disgustingly haughty he was! What the hell was wrong with him? Shard not only knew how to treat head injuries, but he read Water Pokemon as well? Water Pokemon was a scientific journal. The scientific jargon alone made it impossible for the average person to comprehend. Ash could never get through a single sentence without complaining of a migraine. It was a journal written by professors for professors. The only reason Misty attempted to read it was because her business was mastering Water Pokemon. At times even she struggled to understand the texts!

For the love of Moltres, Articuno and Zapdos! CRURSE HIM!

But the son-of-a-Granbull had her. Misty needed to know the truth.

"Bring me that magazine." She snarled, surprising herself by just how much she now sounded like a Granbull.

Misty would not lower herself to debate with this Rocket anymore. Communicating with him —like he was a normal person— was beyond the realm of ludicrous. Misty would read the journal and then judge for HERSELF on whether or not a Sweelwas a real Pokemon. Not that it really mattered anymore, of course. Misty had far graver problems at the present time, but reading about this topic might be a tolerable way of passing time until the Rockets decided to what to do with her.

"Okay then." Shard seemed pleased that Misty had finally shown interest in his magazine. He headed toward the door, but stopped and faced her. "By the way, congratulations on your engagement, Miss Waterflower. Per our discussion earlier, I don't want to kill you. Ketchum will make the trade, you'll see. He'll be reasonable. Certainly he values his fiancée over a Pokemon."

"You don't even know Ash! How dare you make that assumption? How— " Misty's retort was interrupted as the door unexpectedly opened, revealing a grinning Glare.

The blond marched into the room as if it were her own chambers.

"What do you want?" Shard asked, his tone alluding that he did not actually care for the answer.

Glare strolled past Shard, twirling her hair and humming a tune — as though he were unworthy of her full attention.

"I asked you a question." The pressure in Shard's tone would crush an Onix.

Glare halted and complied, facing him. "The 'photo bomb' was dropped. Fearow 33 took it straight to the Indigo Plateau."

Misty's heart sank like a Golem in the sea. Glare's report confirmed her deepest fear: Ash now knew what was going on. He would be an emotional train wreck.

"Good. Anything else?" Shard folded his arms across his chest, he wanted to drive the point home that Glare dulled him.

"Yeahhhhh." Glare cracked a wicked grin. "The Boss wants us to take pictures every few hours. Bloody, gory, nasty ones. You know, to keep Ketchum riled up."

Shard's expression went ridged. His fingers frisked anxiously through his azure spikes of hair. "That's absurd. I'm going to deal with this immediately." Shard faced Misty. "I'll be back. Glare wont harm you, don't worry. She wouldn't dare." Shard pushed past Glare, his body language sending an unspoken threat to the blond. He quickly disappeared down the hall.

Misty's heartbeat escalated. Sweat began forming on her neck, her brow, even her palms were damp. If Shard failed to persuade his boss, then she was going to be beaten again after all. Right now Misty had no choice but to put her faith in Elite Rocket Shard. If he was willing to stand up for her, then Misty would gladly let him.

Misty glanced toward the female Rocket. It was just her and Glare now.

Glare did what she did best and eyed Misty with her executioners stare. Misty debated: should she hurl a nasty look back at the bitch or avoid confrontation? Assessing that Glare packed a firearm and Misty only a bruised arm, she decided it best to simply ignore her. Instead Misty peered down at her own feet, she was still wearing her high heel shoes from dinner with Ash. She really wished that Glare would leave so that she could raid that cupboard and see what warmer attire Shard had provided for her. Her toes were freezing and she hoped to find some socks or slippers.

Glare cleared her throat obnoxiously loud. "You know . . ." She began smugly. Misty did not look up, she did not want to grant this wench any of her attention. Glare was not deterred and continued: "The Boss may have placed Shard in charge of this particular operation, but, I actually out-rank him in Rocket hierarchy. Did you know that?" Glare didn't pause long enough to let Misty answer, she just continued rambling. "I didn't think so. Basically, what I am trying to say, Miss Waterflower, is that you should not get use to any kindness while you're here. Trust me, it's temporary. Charming Mr. Shard will not be around much longer to look out for you."

Misty glanced up now. "What do you mean?"

Glare giggled mockingly. "Oh, nothin' much." She twirled her hair casually about her finger again. "Forget I said anything, okay?" She batted her eyelashes with grossly exaggerated innocence.

Misty looked away again. This bitch was really getting on her nerves, but Misty reminded herself that she was probably just a liar and trying to scare her. Not that it mattered since Misty faced death anyway. But still . . .

Misty paused. She had to admit that Glare's words were . . . troubling, at the very most. Thus far Shard had been the only Rocket to show her any compassion or sympathy what-so-ever. If something happened to him, Misty had no doubt that she would be tortured. It wasn't that she gave a damn about Shard's well-being, it was that his well-being had unfortunately become tied to her own.

Glare is lying, Misty insisted to herself. She's trying to scare you, to break you. She's attacking your emotions because she is too afraid of Shard to attack you physically. Ignore her. She's nothing but bitchy Rocket trash. Misty nodded to herself, her inner pep-talk had boosted her moral somewhat.

Glare's cellphone began to jingle in her pocket and the Rocket was quick to answer it. "Hey, Remi. What's going on?"

Misty shivered involuntarily, she assumed that 'Remi' was short for 'Remington'. That man actually frightened her.

Glare laughed impishly in response to whatever Remington was saying to her. "Okay, you know I'll be there. I can't wait, baby. Later." Glare put her cellphone away, completely unconcerned that Misty had just eavesdropped on her conversation. It was now obvious that Glare and Remington had more than just a simple co-worker relationship.

Glare sauntered toward her, but Misty continued to disregard her. "You see," the blond exclaimed excitedly. "Very soon either Remington or myself will be leading Team Rocket. There is no way that nerdy stud muffin is going to threaten what should be one of ours. The only reason Shard has even made it this far in the company is because he constantly sucks up to the Boss." Glare proceeded to walk around the room, taking casual interest in examining the furniture.

Misty sat still. She did not want to make any movements which would give Glare the excuse to berate her. Furthermore, Misty did not want to encourage Glare to continue her current line of speech. Misty had no idea why Glare was even telling her this information in regard to Shard. Clearly Glare had it in for Shard and wanted him gone. Did she actually expect Misty to share her opinion? Quite frankly, Misty didn't even give a Rattata's ass about the future of Team Rocket – unless, of course, it was finally going to be destroyed.

After a few tense moments Glare made her way toward the exit. "Well, I'm off. I'd say 'nice chatting with you', but you were rather lax at adding to the conversation. Remind me never to invite you to a party, okay?" With another wry giggle, Glare strut out of the room.

Misty released a breath she hadn't realized she was even holding. Now she was left alone with her thoughts. And her thoughts warned her that she'd inadvertently been sucked into an even more complex disaster. Her kidnapping was not the only crime being plotted here. There was an obvious power-struggle surging within Team Rocket. Misty had unwillingly become a pawn in the Pokemon ransom demand. And now she found herself an involuntarily pawn in Glare's and Shard's internal strife.

Misty's buried her face in her hands. An ominous instinct lurked inside her mind, this instinct clawed at her brain until she was forced to acknowledge it.

The instinct told Misty that her blood would not be spilling alone.