Blood. My hands, my clothes, the ground, all stained red. Around me, there are the sounds of battle, but I only see her, my Eevee, lying limp on the ground. I cradle her lifeless body, and the world falls away, until I hear a

click

and look up to see the gun—

I sat up straight, panting and drenched in sweat. My mind and heart raced as I took in the room around me. White sheets, blank walls, bunk beds… the Pokémon center dorms. My Eevee was curled beside me, apparently oblivious to my thrashing, deep in sleep and definitely alive.

A dream. Just a dream.

I jumped as a sudden buzzing came from the bedside table. I groped around blindly, my hand passing over my glasses and Pokédex until it finally landed on my Pokégear. I flipped it open and put it to my ear. "Ugh… Hello?"

"There you are! We were worried something had happened to you. Listen, don't go into Cherrygrove for now, okay? There's been some kind of trouble there and it's not safe. You should take a detour around it and head straight to Violet City…"

I groaned and rubbed my throbbing head. "Mom… Mom! I know, okay? I'm in Cherrygrove right now, and I know what happened, so you don't have to warn—"

"Ohmygosh are you okay? I didn't think you'd get there so quickly—did the terrorists hurt you?"

Terrorists? "No… No, I'm fine, I got here two days ago, but they kept us in the Pokémon Center, so we were safe."

It wasn't like I could tell her the truth. I wasn't even sure what the truth was.

"Well, why didn't you call? We were worried!"

"The phone towers were jacked, nobody could call… Listen, mom, I'm okay. All right? Don't worry. I'm heading over to Violet soon and I'll call you when I get there."

"Promise me, okay?"

"I promise."

"And remember, if you ever need to come home, just let us know. We love you, Leslie."

"I know… Thanks mom."

I hung up the phone and sighed. If she knew what had really happened, she'd be flying over to pick me up right now. Out of habit, I checked the Pokégear's display. It was seven AM, I had five missed calls (four from my mom, one from someone named Joey), and… one text message? Who did I know that actually used text messaging?

I scrolled over to the text menu, where the solitary message sat. The "From" line, which normally held a phone number, showed a bunch of gibberish, and the subject line was blank. Hopefully it wasn't a virus, I thought idly as I pressed the button to open it—

My breath caught in my throat as I saw the rest.

"We know."

That was it. That was all it said. There was no contact information, but I knew who sent it. I knew what it meant.

I stood up abruptly, grabbing my backpack and walking towards the bathroom. I'd already showered last night, but I felt sick enough to warrant another one.

I peeled off my damp clothes, turned on the water and stepped under the stream, trying to suppress my rising sense of panic. Those two words kept repeating in my head. They knew. They knew. They knew. They knew who I was. They knew what I'd done. They knew my phone number. How was that even possible? Team Rocket was supposed to be a scattered bunch of thugs, and here they could track me down as though they were the freaking P.I.A?

What else did they know?

I remembered the conversation with my mother. "If you ever need to come home…" It was the same thing she'd told me when I left three days ago—that if things got too rough, I would always be able to come back. But now I'd pissed off the reincarnation of one of the most powerful criminal organizations ever and they knew who I was, and even if I went back to my family there was no way they'd just let this go…

My chest tightened, and I leaned against the wall of the shower, fighting a wave of nausea. This was bad, so bad. What was I going to do? What could I do?

I could go to the police. But as they'd shown yesterday, they were hardly a match for Team Rocket's force. And if Team Rocket really was coming back, they'd have their hands full protecting people that actually mattered—they wouldn't spare the manpower for someone like me.

I could hide. I could throw away the bell that was still in a pocket of my backpack, leave the country, and live in a barn or a cellar in some backwater town. But how long could I keep that up? How far would they go to find me? Could I even trust anyone to keep my secret?

…I could fight. I could raise a strong team and try to protect myself. Those two famous trainers three years ago had done it, and put Team Rocket into hiding until now. But they had been gone, insanely good. One had even held the title of Champion for a while. I couldn't measure up to that!

So every option was equally hopeless. The only thing I knew was that I couldn't stay here. I had to go… somewhere. Anywhere away from here.

I pulled on a clean set of clothes and walked back into the room, placing my hand on my sleeping Eevee. She was so small, still a baby, defenseless, with no choice but to rely on me to keep her safe from the Rockets and everything else that could hurt us. She wasn't the one who'd decided to get involved in all this—neither was I, for that matter—but in any case, I had to protect her.

I'd planned to stay in Cherrygrove for a few days, or at least get a decent meal before leaving, but everything was telling me to leave, now, to get out of this place that held evidence of my involvement with Team Rocket.

So that's what I did.

It was still fairly early in the morning when I came across the sign welcoming me to Route 30. Getting out had been easier said than done. The Pokémon Center was being used as a temporary shelter for those whose homes had been damaged in the fight, and it was quickly filling up with people. And Cherrygrove City was full of newscasters and police officers, some of whom had seen me yesterday and wanted an interrogation. I politely declined and stepped away as quickly as I could, slinking away from the crowds until I reached the outskirts of the city.

The last thing I wanted was more exposure.

I examined the map on my Pokégear. Really, as far as wilderness routes went, this one didn't seem so bad. It had a clear path, and look short enough that I could probably walk it in a full day if I hurried. But for once, I wasn't in a hurry.

As the buildings behind us vanished out of sight, I placed Eris on the ground and knelt beside her. "All right. Look, we got beaten pretty badly yesterday. And the day before. Uh, and the day before that. But we're going to take it easy today. Fight some birds, maybe some bugs, and help you get better at battling. Okay?"

She nodded slowly. She still looked a little shell-shocked; I was too, after what'd happened. We both needed time to recover, physically and mentally, so we'd have to take it slow for now.

"Okay. Let's get started."

Soon, we settled into the pattern we'd developed during our time on Route 29. Route 30 had the usual Rattata, Pidgey, and Sentret, but also a new variety of bug Pokémon. Since they were a novelty, I went after the bug Pokémon first. We steered clear of the Weedle and Spinarak to avoid the risk of poison, leaving mostly Caterpie, Metapod, and an occasional Ledyba. They seemed like easy targets, but I hadn't accounted for the psychological effects of String Shot. After several battles that ended with Eris covered in bug goo, she was clearly distressed and looked close to tears. I didn't want to push her into some kind of mental breakdown, so I called it off for now.

I was hungry, anyway. When was the last time I'd eaten? Not yesterday, so probably the day before that. I hadn't even realized until now, but as I thought about it, my stomach started growling.

I sat in the shade of a tree, since the day was already uncomfortably warm, and rooted around in my bag until I found a granola bar, some dried fruit, and a bag of Pokémon pellets. Not a great meal, but I could have something better when I reached Violet City. Not wanting to look in all the ball capsules for silverware and bowls, I put the whole bag of Pokémon food next to Eris. Her eyes got as wide as plates as she gazed upon the glorious bounty of pellets, and she started scarfing them down as fast as she could.

She must have been hungry too, I realized guiltily. But it wasn't like she could tell me these things. It was my job to remember.

After we were finished eating, Eris ran to chase the Pidgey who'd gathered at the sight of our food. I sat there and watched her for a while, feeling too drowsy to get up. My eyelids got heavy, and I had trouble keeping them open…

I may or may not have drifted off, but when I opened my eyes again, there was someone standing over me. I shouted and started back, smacking my head on the bark, before realizing that it was the girl from yesterday—Chris. She and her ever-present Tyrogue both had bandages plastered across their bodies, and they looked about the same as I felt.

"Uh, hey." I waved slowly.

She smiled in response, just a bit. "You're alive."

"Yeah, so are you. That's good, right?" I realized I hadn't known her fate for sure, until now, but I'd been too wrapped up in exhaustion and self-preservation to wonder.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I figured you were, but it's good to see…" She trailed off, biting her lip. I saw she was rubbing her elbow, and wondered if she was trying to make me feel guilty for knocking her off the bench.

"I didn't make you hit it that hard."

Her eyes widened in a look of genuine surprise. "What? Oh. No, no, this, it's… It's an old injury."

"…Oh."

We both fell silent, but I knew we were probably thinking about the same things. What had happened yesterday, how much trouble we were in, what we were going to do now. We were both equally screwed, and our situation was pretty much hopeless.

But there was safety in numbers, at least. I guess that's why when we started off again for Violet City, we went together.

Oddly enough, we didn't encounter many trainers on the route, but there were still plenty of Pokémon. After I explained Eris' little problem with bug-types, Chris sent Ringo to take on those, while I sent Eris after the rodents and birds.

Once again, I had to admire the Tyrogue's skill in battle. Not that I knew much about fighting-types, but I'd always heard that out of all of them, Tyrogue were one of the weakest. Next to my Eevee, though, he was a juggernaut. He expertly disposed of each opponent, one after another, while Eris slowly struggled against each one she faced. He almost seemed unstoppable.

Until we came across the one bug he couldn't beat.

We'd just moved into a small clearing when Chris let out a shriek. I spun around in alarm, expecting to see bandits or a swarm of Beedrill, but she seemed just fine.

"What is it?"

"Look! Look over there, see?" She was pointing at something, hand shaking with excitement. I turned to look, and was instantly underwhelmed.

"It's… A Heracross."

The blue bug Pokémon was attached to a tree across the clearing, gnawing at the bark. Even with Chris' shouting, it hadn't seemed to notice us.

"A Heracross! Right!"

"So?"

"'So'? It's one of my favorite Pokémon!" She turned to her Tyrogue, and he nodded. "Right! We're going to get it! Ringo, go!"

He obeyed, throwing his weight forward and running for a Tackle attack. He raced across the clearing, building up momentum, then rammed his shoulder into the Heracross' back.

I thought that would be the end of it, but I was wrong. As Ringo slammed his target, he bounced off, the attack as ineffective as though it'd hit the tree instead. The Heracross didn't even budge.

"…Okay! Try again! Another Tackle!"

He hit it again, and again, each time with the same result. The Heracross didn't even seem to realize it was under assault. I heard Chris groan in frustration as she ordered another tactic.

"Maybe if we get it off that tree first—try that!" He jumped onto his opponent's back, bracing his feet against the trunk and pulling. But the bulky bug clung to its tree, burying its face into the bark, and sent Ringo flying off with just a flick of its wings.

"Agh! All right then!" She ran across the clearing and grabbed one of Heracross' wings. "If we both get it together—nngh—we should be able to pull it off!"

I watched as the two of them pulled at the Heracross, to no effect. Every time they seemed to make some progress, it lifted its wings and swatted them away, gripping the tree trunk even tighter. Finally, in an act of desperation, Chris reached into her bag and emerged with an empty Pokéball, throwing it at the bug. It was useless; the ball was smacked away before it could even try to suck it in.

Chris and her Tyrogue both sank onto the ground, breathing heavily. "Why… Why can't we hurt it?"

At this point, I was starting to become nervous. "You know, if you keep hitting it, you're just going to make it mad."

She scowled. "That's the point!"

"But if it comes after us—it's too strong. We'd be dead."

She started to protest, then fell silent, staring at the Heracross. Finally, she sighed and stood up. "I guess… You're right. Come on, Ringo." He objected, but she shook her head firmly. "No! It's too strong. You'll get hurt."

"Roh!"

"No!" She grabbed him and pulled him up. "We'll come back for it later."

Nearly an hour later, Chris was still sulking.

"I don't get why you're so upset," I ventured, trying to break her out of her stony silence. "I mean, it was just a Heracross."

"But I love Heracross," she pouted. "I saw one once in a show, and it was so strong, it lifted a Steelix!"

"First of all, that's impossible. Nothing can lift a Steelix, they weigh like a million pounds. And besides, it's not like you need one for your team. You already have a fighting-type."

"That's just it!" She came to a sudden halt, balling her hands into fists. "I love fighting-types! I want to raise them, and maybe others that're really strong too! And then we'll be really unstoppable, like—like Bruno!"

"Bruno? You mean, from the Elite Four?"

"Yeah…" She dropped her gaze, suddenly looking embarrassed. "I mean, we have a long way to go till then. Ringo and me. I guess I was just kind of hoping that Heracross would be—"

A sudden sound in the distance made us all jump. It was a loud snap, like a giant Stantler stepping on the world's biggest twig.

"What was that?"

"I don't know. Probably nothing."

"Well, I want to see for sure!" She ran off into the trees. I sighed. At least she wasn't moping anymore.

It didn't take long to find the source of the sound. A small, blue-scaled Pokémon was walking in circles, eyes on the ground. When it came across a thick branch, it stopped, picking it up and joyously snapping it in half with its strong, toothed jaw.

Chris watched it, fascinated.

"Totodile… Like to bite things," I explained, stepping back a bit. My mind was flashing back to all the ill-behaved Totodile I'd seen in Professor Elm's laboratory, and occasionally the daycare center. More than once, they'd almost taken an aide's hand off, and it didn't always look like an accident.

But of course, that wasn't why she was staring. "That's it!" she hissed, turning back to me in excitement.

"Are you planning on catching it? Because I don't think Totodile usually live on this route, so it probably belongs to someone—"

"I know that! I think this is the Pokémon I was supposed to find! A Totodile, a stolen one!"

So first I was dragged into stopping Team Rocket's comeback scheme, and now this. I didn't know what it was about this girl, but I should probably get away from her as soon as possible.

"A stolen—wait, is that why Elm's lab was all messed up? He wouldn't tell me what happened, something about security, I don't know."

Chris didn't answer, but belatedly shushed me. "Shh! That's gotta be him!"

It was a boy, maybe a couple years older than me, with long red hair and dark clothes. Chris' suspicion seemed justified; he looked shady, like the punks that hung outside the Game Corner back in Goldenrod. And after my recent clash with Team Rocket, I couldn't help but wonder…

"Stop right there!" I flinched as Chris stepped out to confront him. Hadn't yesterday taught her anything? "You—you're the one who stole that Totodile from Professor Elm! You have to come with me and—and turn yourself in!"

There was a long, tense moment of perfect silence, as the suspected thief stared at her, then at me. When his eyes met mine, I took an involuntary step back; his gaze was cold and intense, the same way the Rocket boss had appeared.

"Leave me alone." He turned away, but Chris ran to block his path.

I swallowed past a sudden lump in my throat. "Look, maybe we shouldn't—"

"No!" Her voice had risen to an almost hysterical pitch, and her legs were shaking, but she refused to move. "I couldn't stop Team Rocket and I couldn't get the Heracross and I'm not going to lose at this too! If you want to go then you'll—you'll have to fight me!"

There was another brief silence as they stared each other down. Finally, he spoke again. "Is that your only Pokémon?"

"He's all I need! Ringo, let's show him!" Her Tyrogue stepped forward, still showing no fear.

"If it'll get you out of my way. Sneasel." He tossed a Pokéball carelessly on the ground, revealing a small black Pokémon with horribly sharp claws.

It was over in an instant. He ordered an attack, and before Chris could even shout a warning, it was on top of Ringo, face split in a malicious grin. Its claw glowed white, then flew toward the Tyrogue, impaling him in the chest. Chris screamed something incomprehensible, but it did no good; he sank to the ground, critically injured.

Without a word, the red-haired trainer withdrew his Sneasel and started to walk away. Chris ran to her Tyrogue's side, frantic, then looked up at me. "Do something! Stop him!"

But I couldn't. The dream I'd had was coming back in full force.

"What are you doing?" she screamed. "Why won't you help me?"

Blood, death, screaming, feeling her dead, cold body…

I couldn't do it.

"A wimp like you can't compare to me. Don't get in my way again."

And he left, leaving Chris to embrace her wounded Tyrogue and me to stare silently at the ground.

That night, it rained.

It started slowly at first, dark clouds gathering to cover the sunset. Then I felt the raindrops, first one, then another, until the sky opened up and sent us running for cover.

Even under the trees, the downpour seeped through my clothes in a matter of minutes—the jacket I was wearing apparently wasn't water-resistant. Chris had pulled on a cheap plastic poncho, and I wished I could do the same. I recalled Eris and dropped my bag on the muddy ground, tearing through it for some sign of a raincoat or anything else that could protect me, but there was none. It was probably stuck in one of those damn balls.

"Don't you have a tent or something?" Chris shouted above a peal of thunder. I shook my head.

"Probably, but I can't find it!" I pulled up my Pokénav, only to find I couldn't read the screen through my rain-spattered glasses. I pulled them off and held the sidplay against my face, then gritted my teeth in resignation. "Dark Cave—it's about a mile north of here—it's probably our best bet." Chris just nodded silently.

We moved as quickly as we could, but the rain obscured all sight beyond a few yards, and it turned the dirt roads into a mire that sucked at our shoes and made us stumble and fall. By the time we found the entrance to the cave, I was completely soaked through, shivering, and covered with mud, and more miserable than I could ever remember being in my life.

I collapsed onto the first dry ground I saw and reached for Eris' Pokéball, but my fingers were numb with cold and couldn't find the button to open it. Clumsily, I pulled it off, holding it in one hand and pressing the button with the other. The flash of light lit up the cave and temporarily blinded me, and I immediately heard my Eevee keening in concern.

"I know, I know." I tried to keep my words from trembling. "Come on." She climbed into my lap, and I hugged her tightly, drawing up my knees and trying to get some warmth back into my arms.

A flash of lightning illuminated the cave. I saw Chris sitting against the stone walls, gripping her Tyrogue's Pokéball in her hands. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could almost feel her glaring at me.

We stayed there that night, and I eventually fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep, Eris still in my arms, listening to the sound of rain.

Fun fact: the Pokédex says that a Heracross can lift an object 100 times its own weight. Heracross weighs 119 pounds, making its weight limit 11,900 pounds. Now, a Steelix weighs 881.8 pounds. Hell, the heaviest Pokémon, Groudon, weighs 2094 pounds. So not only can a Heracross lift a Groudon, it can lift five of them, and still have room for a Steelix on top!

But then, a Steelix's listed mass and body volume gives it a density slightly less than that of an average cork. The Pokémon universe is weird.