7/24/09:

Well, I've really let m'self fall behind. That damn Arceus movie is out, and even though I know next to nothing about it, I'm sure everything my cohorts and I have presumed about our wonky creator-mon is wrong. At least, I hope it is; after all, I'd hate to look unoriginal. Regardless, we've got our plans for this fic laid out, and they're not changing. Screw canon. Canon is for wimps.

I apologize for the extreme lag between chapters (the longest yet!); life is getting the better of us GARhalla einherjar. I won't bore you with the details (details are also for wimps), but the long and short of it is that we're busy as all get out and chapter releases are gonna be slow for a while yet. There probably won't be another three-month gap like there was this time, but don't quote me on that.

After much dicking about, we decided to cut this chapter into two parts; partly because we wanted to get something out there, and mostly because I'm sick of seeing the same stuff every time I open up WordPad. Please enjoy the following nonsense.

- Boss Coffee

Chapter Seven: A Farewell to Arms, Pt. I

The morning after the Indigo and Celadon attacks, the sun rose bright and shining over Mt. Silver, contrasting sharply with the moody tension within the Guardian base. By now, all the Guardians had seen (or at least heard about) Alan Tycho's little public service announcement, and it was visibly affecting just about everyone, albeit in a variety of ways. As the troops gathered in the mess hall for breakfast, one needed only to look around to see how each individual Guardian was dealing with the news of two hard blows to the League in less than twenty-four hours. Many of the junior members had gathered in groups, openly voicing their outrage at TR's audacity and making loud proclaimations of their intended revenge, feeding off each other's youthful machismo. The older Guardians were more divided in their reactions. Some, like Will, sat eating in pensive silence, but others were just as incensed as their younger comrades, particularly Surge, who had gathered his team of three for a "breakfast war room". Koga and his partner had joined in halfway, and the six were huddled tightly together over their porridge bowls, whispering with almost comical seriousness as they concocted a secret, likely very pointless plot against the Rockets. The true Guardian leaders, meanwhile, were considerably more reserved. Lance and Agatha sat apart from the others along with Frontier Commander Graves and Kanto Head Leader Blaine, discussing matters seriously in hushed tones.

Of course, as Ash and Gary entered the room, nearly half an hour past meal call, the tension on the air went straight over their heads; it had been a long night for everyone, and the boys had been no exception. After Lance's rushed departure from his office, Ash and Pikachu had been forced to retreat back to the common area to look for Gary and Jeanette. Jeanette had in fact retired to her room immediately after Ash had seen her last, but he eventually managed to find Gary, who was watching a movie in the recreation area. Gary insisted on seeing the film through to its end, and due to some trouble getting Ash a dormitory, neither of the two had gotten to sleep until well past two in the morning. Both were understandably groggy, and Pikachu had opted to sleep in.

As the pair walked across the room to the serving line, Lance saw them them out of the corner of his eye. He waited until they had gotten their food and then called out, raising a hand to get their attention. "Ash, Gary! Over here."

Exchanging glances, Ash and Gary walked over to Lance's table, seating themselves on the bench seat next to the dragon master.

"'Morning, sir," Gary said, unfurling his napkin. "What's up?"

"First things first: you're late for meal call, Guardian."

"Apologies, sir," Gary replied neutrally. "Long night."

Lance nodded, looking serious."You heard about Celadon, then?"

"The what now?" Gary started, truly looking away from his meal for the first time. "I was talking about finding Ash a room."

"What happened in Celadon?" Ash asked, leaning over the table to see around Gary.

Agatha, seated across from Lance, let out an impatient sigh. "The Rockets took over the KBN broadcast station in Celadon last night. Their leader made a regionwide broadcast announcing their intentions; they're trying to incite rebellion against the government."

"Bull," Gary stated flatly, a look of utter disbelief on his face. "On what grounds?"

"Apparently, we're too weak," Lance said, grimacing at the recollection of Tycho's speech, "unprepared for a coming global war."

"Hardly moral people, but they made a fair case," Brandon said from Lance's right, entering the conversation. "And hello, Ash. How have you been?"

"Brandon! I didn't see you there. You're a Guardian, too? ...I mean- I've been well, sir."

"Good!" The Frontier Brain said with a small chuckle. "I'm glad to see you here, though I suppose it was inevitable."

"That's all well and good," Blaine cut in from his seat across from Gary, "but what am I, Ash, chopped liver?"

"...Sorry, sir?" Ash said, failing to recognize the Cinnabar Gym Leader.

"Ha! I suppose it's only natural you don't recognize me." Blaine removed his wire-rimmed glasses to look at Ash directly. "I hadn't burned off all my hair yet, last we met."

"Mister Blaine!" Ash exclaimed, surprised.

"That's Doctor Blaine to you, youngster. Now that I'm Kanto's head honcho, I've an image to maintain."

"Sorry, Doctor."

"He's kidding, Ash," Lance said, raising an eyebrow at Blaine. "So you did get situated in a dorm, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I'm sorry I ran out in such a rush last night," the dragon master said, looking honestly apologetic, "but as you can see, there's a lot going on right now. We're understaffed as well, so there's going to be a bit of a delay, but we'll get your training started as soon as possible. Meanwhile, I'd like you continue adjusting yourself to the Guardian life: get to know your way around base, and start connecting with the rest of the members. Gary will continue being your unofficial guide, so if you need anything, just ask him, or, if neccessary, myself."

"Sure thing, sir."

"Alright. Time to get moving. Aidan, gather the interrogation group and head for the room. Brandon, you're with me; we're going to meet the transport group at the hangar and collect the prisioners."

As Lance and the others rose and left the table, Ash turned toward Agatha.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Agatha?" he said tentatively.

"Hm? What is it, boy?" the elderly Elite replied, setting down the spoonful of oatmeal she was about to put in her mouth. "And that's Miss Agatha."

"Ah, I'm sorry. I was just wondering... if you could tell me anything about my grandpa. You said before that you founded the Guardians together, and since I never really met him... could you tell me about him? Is he still alive?"

Agatha sighed. "I wish I knew," she said wistfully. "But likely not... I'm sorry. Simon has been missing for many years now... He had an adventurer's soul, that man, always off looking for some new mystery to solve. He could never stand being pinned down for long. On one of his expeditions, more than twenty years ago, now, he disappeared without a trace. A waste, really. He was an incredible man, outstanding in every way imaginable."

"I guess it runs in the family," Ash said with a grin. "I pretty much expected it'd be something like that. My dad's been gone for years now, too... I don't remember much of him, either. Did you know him, too?"

"I met him once, when he was young... around nine years old, I recall. He was a wild boy, that one. Alexander was his name. Little Alex Ketchum. He had his father's intensity, but multiplied. Wanted to be a trainer more than anything. I suppose that's something else that runs in your family."

"No doubt. I don't suppose you know where he is now?"

"I hate to disappoint you again, boy, but I haven't the faintest idea."

"It's not a big deal," Ash said, shrugging. "I mean, I got along fine without him until now."

Gary glanced sidelong at Ash, but said nothing. Instead, he turned to Agatha. "Ma'am, I'd like to ask something as well, if that's alright."

"And here I thought it was the Rockets being interrogated today," Agatha said, with only semi-false annoyance. She sighed. "What is it?"

"Well, I want to know how the Guardians got started."

Agatha gave him a look of mild surprise. "You mean Samuel never told you?"

"I've definitely asked him enough times, but he always gets all dismissive and never really gives me an answer. It's really unlike him to be like that... There's a reason, isn't there, why he won't tell me?"

"He always was rather modest," Agatha said with the barest hint of a smile. "You're right though: there is a reason, and it is that the information regarding the Guardians' origin is highly classified. He's bound by law not to tell you. ...It's beaurecratic nonsense, of course; nothing but more government garbage, but then again, he's not the type to break the rules anymore, either."

"Anymore?" Gary said, raising a lone brow.

"You'd be surprised at how much of a rebel your old grandpa was back in our day," Agatha said with a nostalgic little chuckle.

"Hm. I suppose this has something to do with why he's not allowed to tell me about the Guardians' founding?"

"Indeed. You've certainly inherited your grandfather's curiousity, boy. What could possibly make you want to know about this so badly?"

"Well-"

---

"I have a right to know what's going on with my son, Samuel," said Delia Ketchum, her voice uncharacteristically lacking in sugary tones as she faced down Professors Oak and Rowan from across her living room coffee table.

"I realize that, Delia," Professor Oak replied, sounding rather exasperated, "but there are rules here, laws set in place for the sake of security. I am simply not authorized to tell you, but rest assured that both you and Ash are safer for that fact."

"Don't give me that. I know this organization exists. I know your identity and the identities of several other members. What could you possibly tell me that would be more dangerous than that? Considering you've already compromised your "security" to such a degree, what's the harm in giving up a bit more for the sake of an old friend's peace of mind?"

"Er..."

"She makes a valid point, you know," Professor Rowan said to his colleague. "Besides, this is Simon's daughter-in-law; I think we can trust her, of all people."

"I know we can trust her," Oak responded, tapping his finger anxiously against the side of his coffee mug. "It's our enemies who we can't trust. The more Delia knows, the more she is- and we are- at risk."

"I can handle myself, thank you," Delia said testily. "Look, I trust you with Ash. If you say he'll be all right, I believe you. I'd just like to get all the facts straight. Now... what exactly is this 'Guardian' business, and how are you involved in it?"

"My mind set in this," the Pallet professor said. "I am sworn not to speak, and I refuse to compromise my oath."

"Then tell me whatever you can."

Oak sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "Her son's equal in persistence... I am at my wit's end. Very well: whatever we can. ...John, if you could begin?"

"My pleasure," Professor Rowan said, sitting up in his chair with a grunt. "Where to start... Well, before we get into the Guardians, you should know a bit more about us- our old band, I should say. When Sam and I were young- quite some time before you were born, my dear- we made our way across the country as pokemon trainers. Back then, it was Sam, Agatha, Simon, Benjamin and myself."

"Benjamin?"

"You may know him by his preferred name," Rowan chortled, "Drake, of the Hoenn region Elite Four."

"Such distinguished company," Delia said, a hint of a smile about her lips. "How did you all meet?"

"Not all at once, if that's what you were wondering," Rowan said. "Samuel had best explain: it began with him, more or less."

Professor Oak did his best to look irked his friend's sudden handoff, but his eyes soon slipped shut in reminesceince. "No... In reality, it began with Simon; I just happened to be there to see it.

"It was more than fifty years ago... I was eleven- no, twelve years old at the time. I was in Viridian City, battling Gym Leader Alandra Tyson for the Tremor Badge. I'd gone blow for blow with her for a draw in the first, but her marowak struck a lucky Bonemerang against my noctowl and won the second round." He grinned, clearly reveling in the memory. "My charmeleon, Michael, was my last, and Tyson's Earthquakes were wearing us down. Just when things were looking their worst, a young man in the audience started shouting at the top of his lungs, cheering us on. It was odd, but I couldn't help but feel heartened, and I suppose Michael felt the same- I just barely blinked, and there he was: a charizard! Needless to say, we won the battle with ease."

"And that man... that was Simon?"

Oak nodded with a grin. "It turned out he was only there to ogle Alandra, but we got along quite well, Simon and I. We began traveling together after that, and I became something of his protege. Two years passed as we battled our way across the mainland, and with Simon's help, my pokemon and I became stronger. That year, we challenged the League together. I was defeated just out of the preliminaries, but Simon managed to place twelfth. Dissatisfied, we struck out once more, this time heading for Vermillion. We would travel to Sinnoh by boat, and train our teams against the region's budding league and its wilds. It was there in the port that we first met John."

Rowan nodded. "I was on my way to Sinnoh as well. I was just fifteen, then, but I'd come from my native Orre to Johto at ten to become a trainer, so I was confident in my skills when I challenged Sam to a battle. It was close, but I lost in the end, and to a trainer a full year my junior. It might seem silly now, but it was quite an upset for me back then. When Sam told me that it was Simon who was responsible for his strength, I decided to join them on their trip through Sinnoh."

"We had quite the rivalry in those days," Professor Oak mused with a fond smile. "We were the closest of friends, mind you, but one way or another, everything we did became a contest."

"Sounds like another pair of boys I know," Delia said with a laugh, thinking of Ash and Gary. "So I assume you met Miss Agatha in Sinnoh, then."

"That's correct." Professor Oak gave Delia a look of slight surprise. "How did you know?"

"She was Champion during my training days, remember? It was fairly common knowledge that Agatha Erdgeist was from Sinnoh. I just put two and two together."

"I see."

"We did meet Agatha in Sinnoh, and rather soon after our arrival as well, but even before that, we met Drake," Professor Rowan said. "He was crewing on the ship that took us to Sinnoh. He was a trainer as well, and we developed a fast friendship. He didn't join us then, but we stayed in contact."

"Much later on, when we were fighting the battle that would lead to the Guardians' creation, that contact would become integral to our victory."

Delia leaned forward. "And that battle was?" She inquired, her tone clearly indicating that they were at least reaching the part of the story she truly wanted to hear.

And suddenly, they had reached the point of no return. There was a pause as Oak and Rowan exchanged glances, making no effort to hide their intended meaning: "How much can we afford to give away?" The two professors searched each other's faces for an answer, only to find that just one was clear: "Not everything."

Rowan cleared his throat. "Hrm. Well! Understand, my dear, we are under orders not to release information on this matter to the public, and despite your connections to Sam and Simon, 'the public' does, in fact, include you."

"I certainly do understand, John; you've explained it to me enough times," Delia said shortly, knowing full well the two men were attempting to dodge the question. "You and Samuel seem to be under the impression that holding this information will put me in danger."

"It will!" Oak insisted, his famous calm beginning to break. "Delia, please, I ask of you, try to understand my position in this! I-"

"I do," Delia interjected, kind but firm, "and I appreciate your concern. But I must also ask of you to understand my position. I have been as patient as a mother could be in a situation like this. I have honored Ash's wishes and accepted his decision to join your organization without condition. That was his choice to make, not mine. And you, the Guardians, have likewise welcomed him into your ranks. You've placed your trust in him, in this fifteen-year-old boy, my only son. All I ask in return for my consent is for you to place the same trust in me."

"Again, this is not a matter of trust!" Oak said heatedly. "I trust you as much I have ever trusted anyone, but that is not the issue at hand! To involve yourself in this world, the world of the Guardians, is not a decision to be taken lightly."

"-As you have made perfectly clear!" Delia stood suddenly, her arms stiff at her sides and her slim hands balled into fists. "But this world of yours is his world now as well, and if you will have Ash, then you will have me, too!"

The absence of the sweetened tones in Delia's voice was more conspicuous than ever, but what was more startling still was the look in her eyes. An almost frightening change had come over the woman, and Samuel Oak, long and well as he had known her, could do nothing to mask his surprise at her appearance now. Bright, bubbly, and just the slightest bit ditzy: this was the face that Delia Ketchum presented to the world at large, but Oak, in his time with Delia, had seen past that facade. He knew well how intelligent, how sharp his former pupil could be. The Delia standing before him now, however, piercing him with fierce eyes that dared him to contradict her again, had nothing to do with the Delia he had known.

There was an uncomfortable pause as Delia continued to stare down at the two older men, fixing them with that unnervingly intense gaze. It continued for several moments, then, as suddenly as it had come, it was over.

"...I understand," Professor Oak murmured, breaking the silence. "If that is truly what you desire, then you shall know." Professor Rowan nodded in silent assent.

Delia smiled down at them. "Thank you, Sam, John," she said sweetly, taking her seat, all traces of her other, fearsome self suddenly gone from her face. "I know I've put you in a hard spot, and I apologize, but I can't live with not knowing, and for the danger all the more."

"No need, no need." Rowan wagged a hand as though physically waving the apology away. "You are concerned for your son; it is only natural. To the contrary, I commend you for your dedication."

Delia gave Rowan a warm smile for his compliment before turning back to Oak. "Shall we begin, then?"

Oak exhaled slowly, as if about to undertake some monumental task. He set his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers as he fixed Ash's mother with an intense stare of his own. "Now, Delia, as it is, I'm afraid we cannot afford to tell you everything," he said, his voice gravely serious, "but we will explain as much as we can. What you are about to hear, you are not to repeat to anyone under any circumstances. The details of this matter, our inner workings, and our existence itself are government secrets of the highest calibur; if it gets out that we have given you this information, we will lose our positions, and likely our freedom."

"I understand. I will tell no one."

The professor nodded and continued. "The Guardians were founded almost unintentionally, under dire circumstances. We, by which I mean our old group, the Guardian founders, never set out with the end result in mind. Even up until the very moment of the Guardians' creation, we were, for all intents and purposes, precisely what we seemed: a group of friends traveling the nation as trainers. And if not for Simon glimpsing something we were never meant to see, so we would have remained. Had he lasted one round more or one round less in our final tourney forty-six years ago, he would not have seen what he saw... But for better or worse, he did, and we became embroiled in a conspiracy."

"And... what was it that he saw? Who was involved in this conspiracy?"

"Very... very powerful, very important men. I can't tell you who they were, or what they did, but they were corrupt officials in high places- untouchable by conventional means. With a bit of snooping, we discovered that these officials were collaborating to use the power of their stations to fund various criminal enterprises while using their positions in the battling community as a front."

"So these people were League officials?"

"Yes, and highly ranked. And that, coupled with the amount of influence the League had over the government in those days, made their operation virtually bulletproof. Even if we had brought the evidence we had against them to the authorites, they would have used their political influence to push the information under wraps, discredit us, and possibly turn it against us. We had to do something... yet there was nothing that could be done."

"Nothing that could be done by the establishment, anyhow," Rowan cut in gruffly, a certain note of disdain in his voice. "What we knew was of no use to anyone... except us. We did the only thing we could. We took matters in our own hands."

"Looking back, though, it was really a foolish thing for us to be doing, young and ignorant as we were," Oak said with a small shake of his head. "We were just children, and there we were - faced with this unspeakable danger - and we dove in headfirst without a second thought."

"But if not for that youthful arrogance, what would have happened?" Rowan leaned forward, his hands enveloping his knees in a tellingly intense grip. "Where would our country be if not for our actions?"

"I'm not saying what we did was wrong, of course!" Professor Oak added quickly. "To the contrary, it was necessary, but it that didn't make it any less dangerous. ...Things were different back then," he said to Delia. "It might be hard to comprehend from perspective of your generation, but the League- the very nation, even- functioned much differently than they do today. Back then, it was nearly unthinkable to send a ten-year-old on a solo journey; John and I were extreme outliers, starting as early as we did."

"-Which is neither here nor there." Delia interjected, determined to keep Oak on the topic he was again clearly attempting to avoid. Exasperation once more flitted across her face. "Lets make this easier on both of us, because as of this moment you've both said everything and nothing at once. I don't need a history lesson; in fact, I need nothing at all, save for the knowlegde that will grant me my peace of mind. Be as vague and nondescript as you need to be, but prove to me that I can trust you with my son. I don't want to be rude, but get to the point. Please."

Oak glanced at his colleague in yet another silent plea for help, but, to his surprise, the look was not returned. Rowan was looking resolutely at Delia.

"My dear," the mustachioed professor said, "allow me to be frank. We have not been entirely upfront with you. We have thus far tried to allay your fears with vague, roundabout explanations in hope of hiding the truth while sparing your feelings, but, canny as you have proven yourself to be, you are not having any of it. Therefore, I shall give you the truth outright. I'm sorry to tell you this, but we cannot give you all the information you seek. It is classified, and so it must remain; our national security depends on it. We will tell you what we can, but it will not be much. It is... a considerable amount to ask, I know, but I must insist that you be satisfied with what we tell you and not press the matter further."

"You know I can't accept that," Delia said, her doeish eyes narrowing.

"It cannot be any other way," Professor Oak implored her, realizing that if Rowan had caved, then there was no use in trying to maintain the charade. "I would change things if could, Delia; you know I would, but I can't. I give you my word that Ash is in the best of hands and that every possible measure will be taken to insure his safety. Is that not enough- the word of a friend?"

"Under any other circumstance, Sam, but not this one." Delia's voice had a foreign sort of frostiness to it. "If you won't tell me," she said, gathering the cups and saucers and getting to her feet, "then I'll just have to... 'take matters into my own hands'."

---

"-and so I left my home and my sister behind, and we headed for Kanto, the four of us..." Agatha trailed off, to the dismay of her captive audience.

"So you went to compete in Kanto... and what happened?" Gary urged, eager to hear more. At his side, Ash leaned forward expectantly. "I mean, when did Drake come back? He was a founding member, wasn't he?"

"Hm," Agatha muttered noncommitally, looking about the now mostly empty cafeteria. "The morning's wearing on; it's time to get ourselves to work. We'll continue this some other time."

Gary opened his mouth to protest, but he was interrupted by the sound of loud, fast footfalls in the corridor outside. As he and Ash turned in their seats at the commotion, and Agatha craned her neck to see around them, Koga burst through the door.

"Agatha," the ninja master said hurriedly, "we need you in the ops center. Emergency meeting."

"What's going on?" Ash stood quickly, Gary at his side a second after.

"No time to explain," Koga responded shortly. "Continue as you were until further notice. Agatha, please hurry."

"Go." Agatha waved him off, now standing herself. "Begin without me; I'll be right behind you." Koga gave a brief nod and strode quickly back down the corridor, and Agatha headed for the door. "Oak, we may need you; escort Ketchum back to his dormitory and stand by for further orders."

Ash goggled after her for a moment as she left the room, then turned to face Gary. "Is it always like this around here?" he asked, incredulous.

"No, it isn't," Gary replied slowly, not taking his eyes off the door. "...It really isn't..."

---

The door of the operations room opened with a swish, and the slight, hunched form of Agatha Erdgeist stepped through. There was a quiet rustling as fifteen-odd heads turned to face her. Her eyes swept across the crowd assembled around the large table in the center of the room, quickly falling on Lance. "What is it?" she asked abruptly.

"The captured Rockets are dead. Encapsulated cyanide in false teeth," Lance replied grimly.

"Not entirely unexpected," Agatha said with a frown. "But why now, of all times? If they were going to kill themselves, why wait this long?"

"I wish I could tell you, but we're at a bit of a loss." Lance shook his head, folding his arms. "And that's not the worst of it. Will?"

The violet-haired psychic stepped forward. "I dove in the second they went down. They were fading quick, so, easy access... Didn't get much, though. Just..." He rubbed his temples absently. "Just a bit of information on their next move."

"Out with it, then," said Agatha snappishly as she took her place at the tableside next to Lance.

"Saffron. Today. We have less than four hours."

Agatha's eyes widened ever so slightly. "Ridiculous. The largest city in Kanto, in broad daylight, just hours after their last attack? They must be mad."

"They're depending on the element of surprise," Surge, silent until now, cut in suddenly. He scratched thoughtfully at his stubbly chin. "There's no other explanation for it. TR doesn't have the resources for a third all-out attack within forty-eight hours, and they're trusting us to know that." His blue eyes, slightly unfocused, glinted with realization as the pieces of the puzzle came together in his head. "The fact that these suicide grunts took so long to off themselves supports that theory... The fact that they waited as long as possible before ending their lives... it's a clear indication of their limited resources."

"And now they've lost their only advantage!" Lance pounded a fist into his open palm, excitement flashing in his eyes. "We'll lie in wait in Saffron and blindside them before they can do any damage. They can't know we're coming. We can end this here!"

"I agree," Agatha said with a nod. "This is our chance at a decisive blow; it cannot be wasted. Any objections?"

Her query answered by silence, she continued. "We should move as quickly as possible and arrive before the Rockets if we can. Your orders, Commander?"

As if on cue, Lance was transformed. Gone was Lance Blackthorn, Pokemon Champion. In his place now stood an entirely different animal: a soldier, and a true leader.

"Begin preparations for a large-scale operation," he said immediately. "Surge, Blaine, Erdgeist, Graves, we're going to put together a plan of action. Gewalt, raise Severn and fill her in; tell her I'll contact her over the secure line shortly with the info on our counterattack. Sarutobi, Oyama, organize three teams, B2 rank and above, if possible. Get them good to go and inside the ops center for briefing in thirty. Suzuki, get the hangar crew moving; I want two Orcas running hot before we even hit the tarmac. The rest of you, ready your gear and be back in here at o-nine-hundred on the dot. Move it!" The Commander roared his orders rapid-fire, without pause, and seemingly without breath, and swiftly, silently, his soldiers complied. In a flurry of rapid movement, amidst the sound of scraping chair legs and heavy footfalls, the majority of the gathered Guardians rose and hurried from the room to begin their seperate tasks, leaving Lance, Agatha, Surge, Blaine and Brandon alone in the room.

Lance placed his hands on the table and took a deep breath, looking around at his four advisors as he did. His head dipped a bit as he he exhaled slowly, heavily.

"Thirty minutes. Let's make it happen."

---

Less than an hour later, it did indeed happen, as eighteen of Guardians' finest, led by Lance himself, filed into the main hangar bay. Each soldier bore matching black rucksacks and grimly determined expressions. Once inside the smaller, stone-walled launch area, they split into three groups and boarded the waiting Orca transports, a squad of six to each aircraft, plus another three from the third group.

One after the other, the Orcas were cleared for takeoff, and minutes later, leaving only a lingering scent of fuel on the air, they were gone.

Gary stared at the mountainside gate as it rumbled slowly shut. He stood alone, leaning against the archway separating the main and launch areas of the hangar, arms crossed, a look of purest dismay etched on his face.

The outer gate shut with a heavy thud, but he didn't look away.

"We may need you."

"Stand by for further orders."

...So much for that load.

"I should be out there, too," he said to no one in particular.

"No, Oak, you shouldn't."

As Gary jumped in surprise, Agatha walked up alongside him, her tip of her cane clicking against the smooth-paved floor.

"And why not?" Gary asked defiantly, doing his best to play off his shock at the ghostly elite's very sudden appearance. "I've been at this for years now. I've trained hard. I've proven myself. Do they really think I'm not ready?"

"I am one of those 'they', Oak, so mind your tongue," Agatha said warningly. "And yes, we are indeed of the opinion that you are not ready for combative field work. You should count yourself lucky that you were even admitted into the organization at your age. It was your remarkable mental and emotional maturity that allowed you your place amongst us, and I must say, you are currently displaying an alarming lack of both. I shouldn't even be telling you this, but Lieutenant Surge has recently proposed that we begin your proper field training. I was in agreement at first, but now I've half a mind to recommend Lance to put you back on assignment with Professor Rowan. If I were you, I'd keep quiet, follow orders, and be grateful for what I got."

"But that's not-"

"No buts, boy. We've all got to deal with our lot in life. You're too young to fight, and that's that. I... I am too old, and that's that. I certainly understand your feelings- I daresay I understand them better than you do- but that doesn't change the facts." Agatha fixed Gary with an odd look, one closer to actual sadness than any he had seen on her before. It was rather unnerving to see such an expression on her, the veteran trainer known as the 'Iron Woman'. "...Yes, Oak, you are too young, but you should take a step back, and try to recognize your youth for the blessing that it is. Time is on your side. You grow stronger, smarter, closer to your goal with every passing day, while I slip further and further away from mine. I would give anything, anything, to trade your position for my own."

Gary stared. "I'm sorry," he uttered, looking somewhat alarmed. "I... wasn't thinking."

Agatha shook her head. "That is the nature of youth: always in a rush, acting without a whit of care for the consequences... it's a mindset that is both dangerous... and powerful. I rather miss it, myself," she said with a wry grin. "It is good to be young and strong and impulsive, but always bear in mind that there is more to you than what you are presently. You believe yourself to be strong- that's a start. Now, keep training, and become stronger still. Your time will come before you know it."

"Yes, ma'am. I will."

"Now, I suppose you should collect your friend from his room; I expect he's eager for some news."

---

"An attack on Saffron?!" Ash nearly shouted, leaping off of his dormitory bed and almost knocking Pikachu off his pillow in the process. "So what are we sitting around here for? We need to go!"

Gary just laughed and tossed himself into a chair at Ash's bedside. "...'Eager' was an understatement," he muttered under his breath.

"Huh? What was that? C'mon, spit it out. Did we get orders from Lance?"

"No, it's nothing," said Gary quickly, trying hard to suppress laughter. "But do you seriously think you'd get to participate in an operation like this? You got here yesterday, for God's sake. No, us little ones get to stay behind and hold down the fort while the big kids go out and play cops and robbers."

"We're... not going?"

"Would if I could," Gary said with a shrug of his shoulders, "but it's usually just B2s and up that get to go on dangerous field missions like this one, and this is like the mother of all dangerous field missions. Even with the personnel shortage, Lance is only accommodating a few B1s."

"B1?" Ash cocked his head a bit to the side. "Rankings?"

"Bingo. Guardian ranks run by a simple, alphanumerical heirarchy. D is the lowest- total newbies- then you've got your C1s and then your C2s- that's me- and that's the bottom tier. You're really not a full-fledged Guardian until you hit B1, which basically means that you've finished all your basic training and you're ready for actual assignments. After that, getting to B2 rank is really just a matter of specialization- deciding on what field you're working in... Mechanical, intelligence, field operations, and so on. The Bs are the middle tier; most of the Guardians are B-ranked, 'cause that's as far as most of 'em get."

"And I assume 'A' is next?" Ash said, dropping himself back onto the bed at last, finally resigned to staying behind.

"Nope. It's 'Q'."

"You're joking."

" 'Course I am. Anyway, it's A1 next, and then- you guessed it- A2. Almost all the A-ranks are Gym Leaders, Elites, or other important people in the League or government. See, A's supposed to be an administrative rank; A-ranks aren't really meant for field work, traditionally speaking, seeing as a good eighty-five percent of them are practically celebrities. All that changed with Lance, though; he wouldn't have any of it. He probably does more undercover work than your average TV spy."

"He's an A2, then?"

"Nope. He's an S. Sooper Speshul."

Ash laughed.

"Seriously, though," Gary went on, gesturing for quiet, "it's no laughing matter. Out off all the members in every region, six of us are S-rank, and Lance is the strongest out of all of 'em. That's why he's the Commander. The Head Honcho."

"And the other five?"

"Dunno. We work in divisions by region, and there's not a whole lot of interaction, especially for the lower ranks. The only other one I know for sure is Brandon Graves, since he's Kanto Division, like us. I think it's pretty safe to say that the Hoenn and Sinnoh champs are S-ranks, too, but don't quote me on that. As for the other two, your guess is as good as mine."

"Okay... so we've got D, C1, C2, B1, B2, A1, A2 and S," Ash counted off on his fingers. "That's pretty simple. ...Guess I'm a D, huh?"

"You wish," Gary replied, failing to hide a smirk. "You haven't even been sworn in. That you're here on base at all is a pretty hefty breach of protocol, but I guess they made an exception since you had so many big-shot members vouching for you. Congrats. You might be the very first rankless Guardian. You're like an 'F', or something."

"F, huh?" Ash shook his head. "It's like algebra all over again."

He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before glancing back at Gary. "Hey, if we can't fight Team Rocket, what are we supposed to be doing, anyway? Shouldn't I be training, or getting sworn in, or something useful like that?"

The brown-haired boy shook his head. "Can't start training 'til you're a Guardian, and only the division leader can swear you in. And our division leader-"

"-is Lance," Ash finished for him, snorting loudly. "Great."

Minutes passed in silence, occasionally interrupted by Ash's restless fidgeting. He was doing his best to hide it, but he couldn't suppress a rising feeling of frustration. So he couldn't go on the mission; that was understandable, but why, while so much was going on, when the Guardians were so shorthanded, was he not at least doing some sort of work or training? Sitting about doing nothing under normal circumstances was one thing, but combined with his knowledge of the current situation, the forced inaction was unbearable. Outside the walls of his tiny room, he knew that there was a battle about to be waged, that there were dangerous criminals to be stopped, perhaps even lives to be saved. Knowing that, how could he remain here in silence, contributing nothing? He couldn't... And yet, despite his desire to act, there was nothing he could do. He couldn't remember a time when he had felt more powerless. When he'd been beaten, at least there was the satisfaction of knowing that he'd fought. Even when he was thrown to the ground by the man he hated most, he was still able to stand up again. Every battle he'd ever lost, every fruitless struggle... even lying in the dirt at Tycho's feet: none of those could compare to this. Ash's feelings welled up within him, surging higher and higher like flames in his chest, bucking against the barrier of his self-restraint... Then suddenly, finally, they burst forth.

"There has to be something we can do!" Ash roared, leaping to his feet and startling Gary and Pikachu. "Even if it's menial, or even insignificant. Even if it didn't matter in the end, even if all our efforts turn out to be meaningless, isn't it better to try and fail than stand by and do nothing?" He lashed out with his foot, kicking over the empty wastebasket next to his bed. "How can they expect us to be content with this when everyone's out there fighting? It's impossible!"

There was a moment of awkward silence in the room as Ash just stood there, fists clenched, legs apart, breathing through his teeth as Gary stared at him, open-mouthed.

"Man, do you even listen to yourself when you talk?" Gary said momentarily, giving a short, false laugh. He wasn't about to admit it, but it was almost unnerving how closely Ash's outburst reflected the feelings he himself had expressed in his earlier conversation with Agatha. He wasn't much used to sharing opinions with Ash on anything besides pokemon; for him to agree with his old rival so closely on something like this was downright bizarre, and he wasn't sure what it meant. As much as Gary had grown to respect Ash, he still thought of him as more than a little immature in his actions and opinions. In the past, Gary had been disinclined to agree with Ash on principle, but here he was agreeing with the kid wholeheartedly. Was this Ash growing up- maturing suddenly? No... This was Ash as he'd always been: loud, brash and impulsive. But then why...?

Gary sighed, pushing the thought from his head for the time being, and rocked forward in his chair to propel himself to his feet. "If you're that dead-set on it, let's go find Jeanette," he said to Ash. "Maybe she'll agree to run you through some basic combatives."

"That's a start!" Ash replied enthusiastically, his demeanor changing instantly at the prospect. "Why didn't you bring it up sooner?"

Before Gary could respond, a loud electronic tone from the PA system heralded a message from the command level.

"Attention, all available units: this is a Priority One alert," said an unfamiliar male voice over the speakers. "All units report to the ops center immediately. I repeat, Priority One alert. All units..."

"All units..." Gary repeated, looking agast. "All units?"

"What is it?" Ash demanded, a mix of fear and excitement on his face. "Does that mean you, too?"

"...It could mean both of us," Gary said after a moment's silence. "That's not a good thing," he added quickly, seeing Ash's face light up. "It means that something bad is happening right now. Something really bad. Priority One, all units... sweet Mew..."

"Define 'really bad'."

"Put your shoes on. I'll explain on the way up."

---

The sun climbed ever higher over Kanto, ever closer to noon and the beginning of the Rocket attack on Saffron City. The summer rays beat mercilessly down on the streets of the bustling metropolis, producing a sticky, humid heat that was nothing short of intolerable to the unprotected, and distorting the air with shimmering waves.

And in the midst of the city's heavily trafficked business center, in the front passenger seat of a glossy black SUV, Lance Blackthorn was sweating. This, of course, had nothing to do with the heat; the automobile was a luxury model and had superb climate control. No, this was nerves, and nerves alone. "Anticipation", he would have called it. It wasn't so much the fact that he dreaded the event, merely that he detested the wait.

For the second time in what he was sure had been over half an hour, his eyes flicked downward at the watch strapped to his wrist. He almost swore.

It had been three minutes.

"It won't go any faster, no matter how often you look at it," said Dr. Aidan Blaine, at the wheel of the car on Lance's left. "Relax. We've got half an hour yet."

There was a great squeak of shifting leather as Bruno Oyama leaned forward from the middle bench seat (where he sat alone, to accommodate his bulk) to position his head between Lance and Blaine in front.

"We can only assume," the huge martial arts master said doubtfully. "I mean, all we have to go on is that telepathic reading."

"Which is more dependable than any forced confession," Blaine said, wagging a raised finger. "Telepathic interrogation is not some mental Q&A session. The psychic penetrates the subject's mind and retrieves the information at the source."

Bruno was not convinced. "But you yourself have developed countermeasures. Anti-psychic barriers," he said skeptically. "You almost made Sabrina vomit when she tried to read you. Couldn't the same sort of thing be applied to misinformation?"

"Certainly," Blaine replied sardonically. "...If you happen to be a genius of the highest caliber with the mental discipline of a Tibetan monk, but I'm sad to say that the IQ of the average TR grunt lies somewhere in the mid seventies, and if you lit one on fire, I dare say you'd get at least a bit of a peep out of him."

Bruno let out a loud laugh at this, and even Lance cracked a grin before checking his watch yet again. He turned in his seat to look past Bruno at the three B2 Guardians in the rearmost seats, the remainder of his team of six.

"Twenty-five minutes, people."

---

"This is insane," Gary muttered as he and Ash emerged from the dormitory hall into the main hub. He cut straight across the room, making a beeline for the nearest staircase. Several other Guardians, emerging from various doors in the hub, were doing likewise, each one wearing the same grim expression as Gary.

"What's insane?" Ash pressed, jogging briefly to catch up with Gary's rapid strides. "What happened?"

"You should be able to figure this out!" Gary snapped, taking the stairs two at a time. "A P1 on its own is serious business. Like, bombs-a-flyin'-brace-for-impact-women-and-children-first serious. You were there when Lance called the alert last night; he knew that TR might be hours away from beginning their final move, and about a second later, what did they do? They took over the broadcast tower and declared open rebellion against the state! A P1 alert means that either something bad is about to happen on a massive scale... or it just did. Either way, the matter at hand requires immediate Guardian attention."

"And this is the second in two days," Ash muttered as the pair crested the staris. "How often do you guys get these?"

Gary paused in mid step, his right foot on bottom step of the stairway up to the ops center.

"Yesterday was the first P1 of my career," he said, looking over hs shoulder at Ash. "...You picked a hell of a time to join up, my friend."

---

Brandon Graves frowned as he turned his group's SUV off of Merrow Street and on to Lancet, completing his circumnavigation of of the area surrounding the League Center for the fourth time.

"Noland," the Pyramid King muttered to the man on his right, "that was four, wasn't it?"

"Right," Noland replied. "Change course this round; turn onto Center and head down to Galloway."

Brandon nodded, maneuvering the car down Lancet and turning down Center Street, which cut straight through the League Center, the location his group was monitoring.

The League Center at Saffron was a major hub for trainers- a cluster of buildings encompassing the pokemon center, the Saffron League headquarters, several shops catering to trainers, a battling plaza, and the contest hall. It, along with the Silph Co. building in the business district and the Saffron Gym, was marked as a probable Rocket target. The Center, however, was prioritized a step above the other two locations, singled out as the most likely to be attacked, and was therefore under watch by two of the three Guardian groups.

Brandon's eyes flicked back and forth as his SUV drew to a halt at the traffic light at the end of Center, searching the cross traffic for a second car that wasn't there.

"Time," he growled.

"Twenty-'til," Noland said, checking his watch against the dashboard clock.

The cross traffic slowed, then stopped. Brandon's light blinked to green.

"Assuming Vince's team has already passed, we're on schedule," Brandon said, glancing at the stopped cars on either side of him as he drove through the intersection. "Let's hope this Tycho is punctual."

---

"Gary! Ash!"

As they passed through the ops center door, the two boys turned back around at the sound of their names to find Jeanette running up the stairs toward them.

"Do you two know what's going on?"

Gary shook his head. "Not a clue."

"Less than a clue," Ash added.

"Then have a seat and be silent," Agatha called out from the head of the large table in the room's center. Around it, ten Guardians were already seated.

"I brought Ash," Gary said as the three of them took their chairs. "I hope it's not a prob-"

"No," Agatha said sharply, cutting him off. "Quite the opposite." She cast her eyes over the crowd, muttering to herself. "...Twelve, plus Ketchum, and none truly fit for it... We'll have to make do, but by the Eye, I haven't the slightest idea of how."

The Elite closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "Ladies and gentlemen, we haven't a spare second, so shut your mouths and open your ears. And for God's sake, don't be asking any stupid questions. A situation has arisen: as of several minues ago, Professor Samuel Oak's laboratory in the town of Pallet has come under attack by enemy forces."

"What?!" Ash and Gary roared simultaneously, both leaping to their feet.

"Shut up and listen, you fools," Agatha hissed. "Professor John Rowan is there as well. Both of them are veteran Guardians and very capable trainers. The enemy force is small; they were not expecting much resistance. As such, the professors and a small group of local trainers have succeeded thus far in holding the enemy at bay, but they cannot hold out much longer.

"Our own forces are utterly depleted, on assignment all across the region, and all combat-capable troops on call have accompanied the Commander on the Saffron counter-terrorist operation. You... we are the last line of defense, the only ones capable of reaching Pallet in time to help. None of you have completed your field training, and as such, you are under no obligation to participate in actual warfare. I cannot force you to go, but I tell you now that I am going myself, and I will take any of you willing to accompany me. Those willing to fight, report to the armory. Those remaining behind are free to do as they will. Dismissed."

And in the midst of a dead silence, Agatha lifted her cane, placed it on the table, and walked out of the room without another word.

---

A woman stood silent and alone in the entry hall of the Saffron Gym, her long, straight, dark hair waving slightly in a non-existent wind. An unusual, almost unnatural expression played across her face- one that spoke of certainty and uncertainty, insecurity and calm all at once. It was the face of one who was blessed with precognition, able to vaguely perceive the future without knowing precisely what it held. It was the face of a worried psychic.

Sabrina's brow furrowed so slightly it was nearly imperceptible, and her gently waving hair fell flat against her back once more. A fraction of a second later, without so much as a whisper to announce his presence, a young man was at her side.

"Two minutes on the clock, Headmistress," he announced casually.

Sabrina nodded politely, though she had already known. "You have completed preparations." Not a question, but a statement.

"I have," the man confirmed, despite knowing it unnecessary himself. "Anything on the waves?"

Sabrina did not respond, instead closing her eyes and drawing in a slow, deep breath. Immediately, her disciple fell silent, realizing that his teacher was reaching out into the ethereal haze of the extrasensory domain, searching for information.

A full minute passed before her eyes opened again. "Nothing," she said simply. "Ready the acolytes to move."

"The Rockets might not come at all." The student scratched at the mousy brown hair on the back of his head, his other hand on his hip. "I mean, no readings at all? Doesn't seem right."

"Indeed," Sabrina replied, turning her head as if to look straight through the wall of the entrance hall and through the northwest wing of the Gym. Her brow creased sharply. "Yet they have arrived all the same. ...Silph. Go quickly."

And in that moment, leaving her open-mouthed subordinate behind, she was gone.

---

In a rush of displaced air, twelve people appeared on the roof of the Silph Co. building, courtesy of a Teleport from Tzu the alakazam.

At the head of the twelve stood Vicious, in full Rocket garb, with his red armored vest on over his uniform and his iron mask on his head. A small sub-machinegun hung on a belt over his shoulder. He gave a short salute to the alakazam as the pokemon teleported away, took six steps forward, then turned to face his squad.

"The executive offices are four floors below us," he barked, turning to a grunt on the far left of the group. "And the one we want, the Big Goddamn Cheese, is right under my feet. Anderson- get us there."

The grunt, Anderson, stepped forward, drawing two Poke Balls from his belt, but as he moved to release them, he froze in mid-throw, his eyes fixed on Vicious as though looking through him. Vicious stared back, his eyes narrowing behind the red-tinted slits of his mask. Anderson stared back, still unmoving.

There was a beat, and then, in a single, sudden movement without warning or hesitation, Vicious whipped around, grabbed the gun at his side and fired two quick bursts. As the Marauder watched, the twenty rounds of nine-millimeter he had just fired slowed rapidly in their course and pancaked against an invisible wall.

Sabrina Severn lowered her arm, and twenty wasted rounds of small-arms fire clattered to the Silph Co. rooftop.

Vicious whistled. "Nice trick."

"You are under arrest," Sabrina said, ignoring him. "However, you will not come quietly, thereby forcing me to hurt you."

"Hurt me?" Vicious snorted. "Look, lady, you're psychic. We get it. Cool. But let's see you try that Matrix shit against twelve guns instead of one." Behind him, Vicious's team punctuated his statement with the ominous click of eleven safeties being removed. "I dunno how you knew we were here- third eye or something, I guess- but coming here alone was a bad move. Arrogant, really."

As her hair tossed about in the rooftop wind, Sabrina smiled at him. A hint of static crackled on the air.

"You have the mental presence of a vigoroth; you may as well have trumpeted your arrival... and I am not alone."

A blast of air sent Sabrina's hair fluttering in every direction as ten of her most skilled disciples and their partner pokemon appeared from nowhere on the roof behind her.

"Surprise, surprise." Vicious grinned ferally, apparently unconcerned by the arrival of Sabrina's reinforcements. "Neither are we."

And in the middle of Kanto, on a sweltering summer day, snow began to fall.

---

Back on street level, Lieutenant Vincent Surge gazed up at the sky through the windshield of his SUV as snowflakes began to settle on the tinted glass. He glanced at Koga, sitting in the passenger seat and likewise staring at the greying skies.

"This can't be anything good," the Lieutenant muttered.

The dashboard radio squawked loudly. "Come in Bravo team. This is Alpha. Do you read?"

Surge snatched the reciever from the console. "Bravo here. Loud and clear. Status?"

"It's Silph. Sabrina's group has engaged the enemy; we're flying in to assist. Relay to Delta and hold your positions, but be ready to move."

"Understood."

---

"Alpha team over and out," Lance said, replacing the handset on the dashboard console of his vehicle. Reaching down, he pulled a heavy, padded, matte black helmet from beneath his seat, and as the rest of his team followed his example, he smoothed back a shock of crimson hair and placed it over his head. He fiddled with something on the helmet's right side, near his ear.

"Alright people," he said as a mirrored, silver visor swung down from the beneath the lip of the helmet to cover his eyes. "This is it. Let's show them who they're messing with."

The SUV's four doors opened simultaneously, and onto the rapidly cooling pavement outside the Silph Co. headquarters stepped Lance, Blaine, Bruno, and the three others, uniform and unrecognizable in full urban tactical gear. Along with the visored helmets, each wore a midnight blue jumpsuit, black tactical boots and gloves, a kevlar vest and armguards, a utility belt with various accessories, and scaled carbon-fiber shoulder protectors. They looked mostly identical to the Kanto Special Police, but their uniforms were entirely unmarked, save for flag emblems on their right shoulders and left chests bearing Japan's rising sun with a blossoming flower in the center of the red orb.

"Allon, Konda, Kitamura," Lance addressed the three B2s. "You guys have wings?"

In triplicate bursts of light, a pidgeot, flygon and pelipper appeared. Lance glanced over each one and, finding them suitable, he pulled three Poke Balls from his own belt and released their occupants.

"Blaine, take Flammadea. Oyama, you're on Swoop." Lance pointed to his charizard and aerodactyl respectively. "I'll be flying with Dragonite," he finished, leaping up onto the back of his great orange mount. "Helmet comms on; remember your designations. Stay close on my six, and be ready for anything."

The air pulsed with heavy wingsbeats as the six large fliers and their riders lifted off into the air and began their ascent toward the top of the Silph Co. tower, Lance and Dragonite at the lead. Faster and faster they climbed- seventeen, eighteen, nineteen stories. Twenty. Twenty-one.

WHOOSH.

Lance swerved wildly to the right, narrowly avoiding an orb of solid ice. As his eyes scanned the stony gray of the heavens for the source of the attack, a loud squawk from behind him announced the belated success of the projectile he had dodged.

"Alpha three, report!" he shouted into his helmet communicator, not looking back.

"Alpha six is down," said Blaine's voice in Lance's ear. "Alpha two went after him."

Lance relaxed, if only slightly. If there was anyone he trusted to dive after a fallen comrade for a saving catch, it was Swoop the aerodactyl. The pelipper wasn't a huge loss, but on the other hand, Swoop represented a fair portion of their dogfighting power, and if Bruno didn't catch up soon...

"Incoming!" Lance yelled as Dragonite rolled to the left to evade another ice orb, hoping a bit of advance warning might prevent another casualty. Several seconds passed in silence. Lance frowned, not reassured. "Sound off."

"Alpha two, coming up fast."

"Alpha three, right behind you."

"Alpha four, ditto."

"Alpha five, still alive."

"Alpha six, ground bound. Fletcher's in bad shape."

"Glad you're still with us, Alpha six. Get to cover and heal your 'mon. Everyone else, let's-"

"Lance, on your right!"

Blaine's warning came just in time. Lance flattened himself against Dragonite's neck, and the pokemon responded instantly, dropping into a steep dive just as the blast of freezing cold from a Blizzard attack passed through the air he'd been occupying a moment before, coating the glassy side of the Sliph building in frost a foot thick.

Lance straightened out, looking furious.

"Where is he?!"

"Bank tower." Lance heard the voice of Alpha five say. "Flash of blue... Went behind... There! At four o' clock!"

"I'm going after him!" Lance shouted, wheeling Dragonite around. "Alpha three, you're in charge! Get up top and back up Sabrina!"

"Roger," Blaine's voice registered dully in Lance's mind as he sped off after what was certainly Articuno. "Everyone follow me, double time; we've kept the lady long enough."

As the remaining four rushed through the last several hundred feet to the tower roof, Lance and Dragonite darted around the end of the bank building. Two pairs of eyes darted around wildly, searching for something, anything. A flash of sapphire plumage. A tinge of frost on the air. Then, suddenly, as Lance turned his head to look out over the rooftops nearby, Dragonite dove, almost unseating his rider. As the dragon master struggled to regain proper position, he saw what Dragonite was after: the trailing end of a long, blue tail disappearing behind a building to the south. Lance flattened himself against Dragonite's back, streamlining himself as much as possible, and the chase was on.

As Dragonite cornered sharply around the building, pursuing the fluttering blue tail, Lance took advantage of the shift in momentum and reached for his visor control, activating the infrared option. As the world dissolved into brightly colored blotches, Lance zeroed in on the large null blur that he knew was the frigid Articuno. Hazel eyes narrowed, he struggled to determine the legendary bird's likely path by observing its movements.

However, it seemed that Articuno, likely under the direction of Tycho, would not be predicted so easily. The icy avian was as fast as near any flying pokemon Lance had ever seen, and even more manuverable, something that its rider was taking full advantage of. The Freeze Pokemon weaved hither and thither amongst the towering buildings with an ease so obvious it was almost as though it were mocking him, and Lance cursed as Dragonite struggled to keep up. The Champion could feel the tension rising in his mount's shoulders, and knew that Dragonite was every bit as frustrated as he was. The orange behemoth took great pride in his physical capabilities, and to be so outclassed in the air, his own domain, was almost painful. Alas, Dragonite was but a shade too far out of his element. In the open sky, he would have overtaken Articuno in a heartbeat, but the ice bird's advantage in manuverability gave the it the edge when it came to navigating the narrow airways of this skyscraper maze.

Still, Dragonite plunged doggedly on, doing his best despite his handicap, and that was the most Lance could ask of him, both as a trainer and as a friend. Now it was he, Lance, who needed to come through for Dragonite. He gazed yet more intently at Articuno's non-existent heat signature in the distance, desperately searching for some sort of pattern. It was definitely heading southwest, albeit in the most roundabout way conceivable. As it was, pursuing the bird seemed impossible; they were falling farther behind by the second. Then, just as Lance was about to give up, he saw it: Articuno was turning in a wide, sweeping arc, passing just over the edge of the League Center, the only large cluster of buildings four stories or less this deep in the city, and a clear break in the otherwise cluttered skies. If Articuno passed the Center over, Dragonite would overtake it, but the bird currently held just enough of a positional advantage to cut across the edge before sinking back into the tower maze and safety.

But you screwed up, Tycho, Lance thought, his mouth curling into a grin. Your bluebird might be tight on the turns, but those big glider wings make you too big to do... This!

Lance tugged sharply at Dragonite's neck, directing it toward something on his left. Confused at first, and more than a little angry at the sudden jerk, Dragonite looked down to the street where Lance was pointing and understood immediately. A large underground parking lot, built under the Saffron Grand Hotel, had entries and exits on either side, and cut right through the curve of Articuno's flight path. It would be a tight fit to be sure, but this was their only chance.

They took it.

With a great bellow, Dragonite looped around in midair, gaining altitude and momentum, then, with what could almost be called a sigh of resignation, he tucked in his limbs, folded his wings, and dove. At the last possible second, Dragonite flared his wings and arched his back, halting his dangerous descent. Pulling up ever so slightly, he soared straight through the entry, clearing both the drop-down gate and the height limit indicator, rider and all.

The way was clear: the rows of parking spaces created a straight path through the basement structure. Concentrating hard on maintaining an even altitude with the obscenely low flight ceiling, Dragonite glided the length of the building, his momentum assisted by the occasional measured wingbeat. The exit was less than sixty feet away now, and drawing closer by the second, but they were losing speed fast, and it was impossible to re-achieve proper flight velocity in the enclosed space. It was going to be close.

As Lance shouted encouragement, Dragonite drew level with the exit, and, with one last heave of his wings, forced himself up through the opening, landing somewhat awkwardly on the sidewalk at street level.

Immediately, ignoring the stares of passerby, dragon and master took to the skies once more. No sooner had they reached a fair altitude than Articuno rounded the street corner to their immediate right and, seeing them, stopped dead in its tracks.

Got you.

"Land! NOW!" Lance roared at Articuno's rider as his own mount began charging a Hyper Beam. "Or we'll blow you out of the sky!"

"Fine," came a female voice from Articuno's back, much to Lance's surprise. "I think I'm done here, anyway."

Apparently, Articuno itself understood the instructions, as it immediately dipped its head low and drifted lazily to the ground. Dragonite followed suit and landed nearby, Hyper Beam still at the ready, and Lance dismounted, calmly drawing a handgun from his belt and aiming it level with the Articuno rider's chest.

"Helmet off," he commanded brusquely, purposefully deepening his voice and roughening his manner of speech to further disguise his identity.

The rider stared at him through the smoked glass shield of her helmet. She shrugged. "As you wish."

Reaching up, she pulled off the helmet, and out popped a mass of blond curls. Domino.

"I thought as much," Lance muttered. "Where's your boss?"

"Wouldn't youuu like to know," Domino said in an obnoxious singsong voice. "You government dogs are so disorganized. I swear; it's a shock that you can even dress yourself."

"I don't think you're in a position to be making wise-ass remarks," Lance growled, thumbing the safety on his gun. "I suggest you make this easy on yourself and come quietly. Off. Now. And return your pokemon to its ball. You have six seconds."

Domino didn't move. "Sorry," she said without the slightest hint of sincerity, "I don't have little Artie's ball right now. It's with Boss Sakaki."

"By which you mean 'Alan Tycho', right? Don't piss on my foot and tell me it's raining. This is your last chance. Where is he?"

"He is closer than you think, Guardian."

Lance wheeled around in shock. There behind him was Tycho, Tzu at his side. Lance raised his gun, but with a glance from Tzu the pistol disassembled itself in his hands. The dragon master's eyes narrowed beneath his mirrored visor.

Guardian? Does he know? And if he does, how much?

"I'm not a guardian," Lance said casually, tossing aside the remainder of his useless weapon. "I'm a soldier. ...And I don't need weapons to beat you." He pulled another Poke Ball from the back of his belt, knowing that Dragonite was busy watching Articuno and Domino. "Surrender now, or you'll regret it."

"A soldier, eh?" Tycho chuckled mirthlessly. "How did that go, what you said earlier? '...Don't piss on my foot and tell me it's raining'? Don't take me for a fool, Champion. I was his closest advisor. Did you really think I didn't know? That he didn't tell me? As if that hulking, orange zubat behind you wasn't evidence enough."

"I had hoped." Lance sighed and raised the visor of his helmet, now speaking in his normal voice. "But thanks for telling me all the same. Now I've got an even bigger reason to take you down."

"Motivations without means," Tycho said, his eyes glinting, "are meaningless."

"That's fine." Lance enlarged his Poke Ball. "I've got the means right- What?!" he yelled in surprise, dropping the red and white sphere. Had it... shocked him?

He stared at the device, lying there on the ground where it had fallen, scarcely able to believe his eyes. The orb was sparking violently, bright currents of energy running over its surface like hyperactive caterpillars. In a second, the currents multiplied tenfold, enveloping the Poke Ball in white light, and with one final, crackling surge, the ball disappeared into thin air. Slowly, Lance shifted his gaze back to Tycho.

"Did you...?"

"How unfortunate," the Rocket leader tutted with a poorly feigned air of surprise. "But it was only another weapon, after all, and as you said, you don't need them to beat me... do you?"