(A/N) Hey guys, I know it's been quite a while since you've last heard from us, as, unfortunately, we've had some people struggling with making deadlines. As a result, we're going to see if having an update every second week will prove more achievable, so that means that every second Thursday we'll have updates for this fic. This should be the last you hear about delays from us from now on, I promise. Anyways, this chapter for Anton Reks has been a collaborative effort from both Xehanorto and SpoonyAzul, and I hope you'll all enjoy it!

I'm also really happy to announce that we recently went over the 1,000,000 word count for our entire array of fics combined, which is obviously a big deal for us! As a result, we have opened applications for our next fic – an Avengers/Hunger Games fic – are looking for as many new writers as possible to join our little team, so if you're interested either PM me or head on over to our brand new forum, specifically for that fic – "In the End, You Always Kneel - Hunger Games & Avengers Collaboration" – which can be found under Books and then Hunger Games!

Oh, and guess what – not only is the Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part One trailer out, but so is the Avengers: Age of Ultron trailer, so head on over to YouTube to check both out and get those creative juices flowing!

Enjoy, and see you in two weeks!

Chapter Thirteen – Past Mistakes

Anton Reks

Written by Xehanorto & SpoonyAzul

"All men make mistakes, but a good man yields when he knows his course is wrong, and repairs the evil. The only crime is pride."

― Sophocles, Antigone

Anton roared in anger as he kicked over a nearby trash-can, spilling out paper waste and soda pop bottles. His jolteon flinched at the violent outburst, cowering behind the fallen can out of fear of its trainer. He was furious, raging – no, not even rage could describe what he was feeling. His pathetic excuse for a pokémon had one mission: kill the girl so the police would never know he'd been there. It was something so ridiculously simple that even a blind and deaf luxio would been able to do it, and yet the jolteon had failed.

"You're a goddamn failure!" he yelled at the jolteon, advancing on the electric creature. "I give you one job, one fucking job, and what happens? You get chased off by the cops! I swear to Arceus, you are going to pa-."

The melodic chime of his pokégear's ringtone interrupted Anton's murderous rant. Growling a bit, he called his pokémon back to its 'ball, before he pulled out his phone and hit Answer. "This is Anton," he offered brusquely, still trembling slightly as he struggled to regain his calm.

"This is Detective Holly Embry. I was told to contact you if we ever got any word about any Rocket activity in this sector." At the sound of her voice, his deep frown and angry expression began to fade ever so slightly, reducing to an acceptable scowl on his features.

This call shouldn't be happening right now, because it shouldn't ever have gotten this far. That the TCPD had now gotten involved was, quite frankly, unforgivable, and he was sure that his superiors would be making a note of this recent failure. While he couldn't have known, at the time, that there were actually two people in the shop, the girl should've been dead alongside the shop owner by now. Still, he was lucky the one who managed to find her was one of their informants in the police system.

Holly Embry was one of the detectives in the TCPD in Team Rocket's pocket, having just begun her first year in homicide. Her story wasn't anything new, just another police officer, sick and tired of writing traffic tickets and pokémon ownership fines. Easy target, he thought with a smirk, back when he had first read through her file. She had been promoted to detective, courtesy of a Rocket bribe and the pull of a few strings, within a few months. However, her promotion also came at a price; she had to be their informant, another pair of eyes and ears, and report any incidents involved with Team Rocket. Anton was sure she was aware of the consequences of failing in this task, if she ever decided to grow a pair and turn against them – blackmail, using the shady circumstances of her promotion against her.

"So, I'm guessing you're the one who attacked my jolteon, Detective Embry?" The line paused for a moment, as the detective, no doubt, considered her next few words carefully while Anton waited for the answer. His tone was still evidently hostile, though a bit more controlled than it had been when he had first answered. Still, it wouldn't take much to set him off again, and he was sure that the young detective was well aware of that.

"Mr Reks, look, I'm sorry if Torch caused any serious injuries to your jolteon. I had to be convincing for the girl's sake, and it would've looked bad in the police report," the detective replied shakily. Anton could tell she was summoning all the willpower she could to keep her voice from breaking.

"The runt needs to toughen up anyway," he growled into the phone, clutching the 'ball in his other hand tightly, "so a few scratches and bites don't mean much to me. Anyway, I assume you've got a damned good reason to call me. You better not be wasting my time right now, 'cause I have a brat to hunt down." Anton's finger was hovering dangerously close to the hang up button. Truth be told, he didn't want to talk to anyone. He needed to move and find that girl before she could get out of the city.

The detective spoke up again over the phone. "That's what I'm calling about, Mr Reks. I have her full description to pass onto you, as well as a request from one Mr Shaw. Hang on." Anton faintly heard paper shuffling on the other end of the line. "Alright, here we go. The girl's name is Laura Thompson. She's a trainer starting out from Outset Ridge. About six years ago, she went through a similar incident in Isthmus City; kid got shot or something. I'm sure you know what she looks like, but I'm sending you a scan of her I.D., just in case you might have the wrong girl."

Anton didn't reply as the transfer started, thankful that the detective was cooperating with ease. He knew a lot of Tombolo's police force were on Team Rocket's payroll, but it always gave him a certain satisfaction when they cooperated without trouble. Some of the city's detectives and patrol officers had moral compasses that would interfere in some cases. But we have people for that, he thought smugly. Their compass would eventually point north again. Or just stop working.

After a few seconds, a static image of Laura's trainer card showed up on his pokégear, committing the girl's face, with her short blonde hair and light brown eyes, to his menory. So, the little patrat had just begun on her journey. Based on everything the detective provided, she'd be running to the safety of the nearest Pokémon Center. He'd have to stake it out before he left the city to start tracking down Edwin Spruce, but so be it. He couldn't let the girl just run free.

"Thank you, Detective Embry. Now if there isn't anything else, I have a patrat to deal with." Anton was thankful that Embry gave him this vital information, but he did not need his patience tested anymore tonight. The shopkeeper had resisted him, the girl had run from him, and if this crooked cop tried to say anything, he'd probably snap for a few minutes straight.

"Well, there is one thing, Mr Reks," she said, much to his dismay. "As you are well aware, Miss Thompson managed to escape and the crime has been processed into our records. While we officially don't have a perpetrator as of yet, if you linger in the city for too long, there's a chance she will recognise you, and at that point the situation will be out of my hands."

Anton sighed down the phone as he rubbed his forehead. "So what exactly are you implying, detective?" he snapped coldly. "Are you suggesting that I leave the city? Leave before I can take care of this leak and make sure she doesn't bark? No, I'm afraid I can't do that; it's a matter of pride to me at this point."

On the other end of the line, Embry sighed before replying, "I'm not suggesting it, Mr Reks. I'm just passing on the information that Mr Shaw asked me to. He said that you were to leave the city within the hour, and that you shouldn't come back for a while. Once the case has been either dropped, or I've found someone to frame for this – when it's safe – I'll call you. But, as of right now, your position in Tombolo has been compromised."

Anton had to hold back another angry growl. What nerve she had to say such a thing! Being compromised was something that only his superiors could determine for him, not some jumped-up detective on the Rocket's payroll. Still, he had to admit that she had a point. The longer he stayed here, the higher the chance he'd be caught and arrested. That wouldn't do any good for his plans, and he knew that Team Rocket would be more than happy to let him rot away there.

After all, this was his mistake.

A groan escaped his lips while he rubbed his forehead again. He hated leaving before a job was done. He hated leaving loose ends and missions unfinished, but he had no choice here, unless he had a death wish, and wanted a visit from the Shadow. Now that would definitely ruin his week; he'd rather still be alive by the weekend, which meant the same fate for the girl. "Fine, I'll be out of the city within two hours, I just need enough time to get some supplies ready."

Embry breathed a sigh of relief at Anton's reply, something he was just about able to pick up on. Though he wasn't surprised, as telling someone bad news normally didn't end well, especially when said person was her Rocket handler. "Sure, but only two hours. After that, I can't do more for you if you're still in Tombolo. I'd also advise against going near the Pokécenter. That's where the girl is staying, along with a police escort, so needless to say…"

"Alright, I understand, detective. Signing off…" With that, Anton ended the call, before the officer could say anything else to him. Well, it seemed he would be starting his search for Mr Spruce a bit earlier than he had anticipated, but he supposed it would have to do. He just needed to do one small thing before he left the city.

Glancing out of both ends of the alleyway to ensure that there was no one approaching that could discover him, Anton began to connect to one of the secure frequencies that Team Rocket used to broadcast messages to one another, undetectable to those without the necessary clearance. That system was vital to the continued operation of their organisation, and he shuddered to think what would happen if it ever fell into the wrong hands. Truth be told, he despised having to rely on other people, some of whom he had found to be very incompetent in their jobs, but he had no choice now. He certainly couldn't allow himself to be arrested, but his pride wanted to see this Laura Thompson dealt with.

He quickly typed out a short message, containing all the relevant information he could think of. "To all Rocket members in the Tombolo area. Be on the lookout for this trainer, as she is aware of our operations within the city. The bitch needs to be taken out. Reward upon capture/kill, as long as photographic evidence is provided."

He approved the message, put up the information from the detective sent him as an attachment, and pressed Send All through the secure channel. A small smirk formed around his mouth, knowing someday, somewhere, one of his Rocket colleagues would keep her from talking. That'll teach the bitch not to mess with Team Rocket.

Getting back to the situation, he glared down at the jolteon's pokéball that was still held in his clenched fist. Anton growled, knowing that the pokémon was listening to his voice, even within the 'ball. "Because of your incompetence in killing the brat, I now have to leave the city. When we get back to the apartment, we'll talk about your punishment."

With that, he headed towards his apartment, being careful not to draw too much attention to himself and stayed away from main streets of Tombolo, on the off chance someone could recognise him. Using his knowledge of Tombolo's back alleys, he made his way to his temporary home in the city's warehouse district.

After careful inspection around the outside, he made his way across the street and into his apartment. Cheap lodgings, he had to admit, at best. A run-down kind of place with bare, off-white walls, old creaky floorboards and furnished with only the bare essentials. Thankfully, though, he spent most of his time working, so he only came back here when he needed to sleep.

"First things first," the Rocket muttered to himself.

He didn't how much time he had left, so he decided to kill two birds with one stone. He went into the living room and released all three of his pokémon, the sandile included. His jolteon immediately ran behind the TV, trembling at the idea of what his master had in mind. The riolu stayed where he was, staring up at his trainer with cruel, determined eyes, while the sandile stared blankly at the wall in front of it, its head tilted slightly to the left.

"We're gonna stamp that weakness out of you for good," Anton murmured, staring at the television the jolteon had scurried behing, before turning to his riolu, the angry growl returning to his tone. "Riolu, teach Jolteon a lesson! Use Force Palm!"

The riolu wasted no time. He rushed at the scared jolteon, who tried to run away from him, but it was fast, even for an unevolved pokémon. The 'mon thrust his palm into the jolteon's stomach, the electric pokémon eliciting a small cry as the force smacked him against the wall, the impact leaving a small crack in the plaster.

The jolteon shook it off, trying to stave the riolu off with a weak Quick Attack. Rather than dodging it, Riolu endured the attack and then countered it, punching the electric type in its midsection, winding it terribly. The jolteon wailed in agony.

"Do it again, but don't hurt it too much, Riolu. We can't afford to visit a Pokécenter right now," he ordered. Anton stared down at his sandile, who was now shivering in fear of the fight happening before it. "You better watch this, you little shit. This is what will happen to you if you disobey me or fail your tasks given to you. Riolu, attack the jolteon again."

Riolu attacked with another Force Palm, making his current punching bag of a jolteon cry out in pain. Knowing that he didn't have a lot of time left, Anton went out into the hallway, leaving his pokémon alone, and into his bedroom. Grabbing what clothes he had, he stuffed them into a duffle bag, along with a few medicinal sprays and a first-aid kit for himself. Opening the closet, he found a small tent inside a light brown carrying case.

It's good enough for me, at least.

A loud screech from the living room interrupted his thoughts. Shit. Scooping up his duffel bag and his folded up tent, he walked briskly down the hallway to find his riolu standing over the jolteon. The electric pokemon lay there, shaking and crying in pain while the skin beneath its yellow fur already started to swell before his eyes. A tiny stream of red fell down from its forehead, possibly from a punch to its head.

Anton turned to his riolu. "What did I tell you? I said not to hurt it too much. We can't go to the Center right now!"

The riolu flinched at his outburst and hung his head low in shame, but didn't run away. Anton hoped that it was possibly a sign that he was getting stronger. With no time to dwell on it, he recalled his riolu and sandile into their pokéballs and placed them on his belt. Looking down at the jolteon, he brought out a bottle of first-aid spray.

Anton sprayed some of the medicine onto the wound, causing the jolteon let out a single whine. "It's supposed to sting, you wimp," he said, "You're lucky you're so valuable, otherwise I wouldn't have bothered patching you up."

With that, he recalled it into his pokéball and headed out the door, with his bag and tent in tow. While heading out of the city and down the route to Outset Ridge, anxiety began to creep in and he knew why. He hadn't been outside Tombolo in years since he had begun his work in Team Rocket. Truth be told, he felt nervous and a little out of his element now. Against the wild pokémon and the elements, his only good pokémon was riolu, with the jolteon and sandile just barely reaching their potential.

Then again, while he was nervous about the whole situation, he was also excited, even a bit giddy. This was what he had left his hometown of Prospect for, all those years ago. It was why he had stolen his parents' riolu, though both back then and now, Anton had never considered him theirs. Not with what they had planned for him and the riolu, not with how their lives would've been wasted.

Many years ago...

Anton growled as he lay in his bedroom, glancing outside the window next to his bed. Dark storm clouds were starting to gather, thunder rumbling in the distance. He wasn't happy. Then again, he thought moodily, who would be when you were just told that you would be stuck in the same place for the rest of your life, all your plans being swept out from underneath your feet?

He hadn't planned anything spectacular, simply to leave with the family riolu and go across the region and become a renowned trainer, perhaps going on to win against the Elite Four. It was a reasonable dream, in his teenaged opinion, And how had his folks reacted to his plans? They revealed that he would be going to work on the farm while they sold off their prized riolu to keep their home, with him supporting them since they were both getting too old to work.

He knew that his parents were poor, but he had no intention on sticking around and taking care of them, where he'd be settled down and unable to leave for the life that he wanted. No. He refused to accept that fate, to waste his life eking out a meagre living in the dust. He would not become a prisoner to this place and he certainly wouldn't let their riolu get sold off like it was a common household item.

Anton got out of bed and opened up his closet, grabbing a small bag with some clothes and the money he had saved up from working in one of the small bars in town. He just needed enough to get to one of the towns that lay across the desert – Calanque, or New Blacold – then he could hopefully find work or maybe even still have enough to get a train to the main cities. He knew that after tonight, there would be no going back to the life he knew. Though, he didn't really want to go back, this simple life. It didn't sit well with him at all.

Going downstairs, making sure to stay silent as to not wake his sleeping family, Anton snuck into the living room and grabbed the lone pokéball that was sitting on top of the fire place. It was a bit dusty, though then again, Riolu had been confined to it for a few days now as they had wanted to make sure it was full of energy when a potential buyer came. It made him sick; pokémon were not tools to be used for barter. To use one in such a way, as a tool, infuriated him to no end and that was why he had to leave, or so he kept telling himself.

Dusting off the pokéball, Anton opened it, letting the riolu out with a flash of red light. The small pokémon looked around for a second in bewilderment, before it saw its friend. Riolu began quickly to run towards Anton, until he held his hand out, stopping it in its tracks. In response he let out a small moan, but was quickly silenced by Anton. "You need to be quiet," he whispered, raising a finger to his lips. "I'm getting us out of here. You're still up for coming along with me, right?"

Riolu nodded slowly, not entirely sure where its friend was going with this. Without saying another word, Anton called his riolu back into its 'ball and quickly ran out of the house. Having only made it a few feet away, with the 'ball in hand, a loud yell stopped him. "Anton, what the hell do you think you're doing? Leaving without a word and taking our riolu with you? Get your sorry hide back here before I-"

Anton turned around and glared at his father, clutching the riolu's 'ball tightly. He hated how his father always talked down to him, like he was just…just another tool like riolu was! That ended tonight, no more being used by anyone, not his father, no one! "Before you what, father? I don't have to listen to you, you have nothing over me anymore! My life is mine to live, not yours! You don't control me anymore and you don't control my friend!"

Anton's father growled as his hands clenched into fists, lightning flashing in the sky above them. Rain began to trickle down slowly, before it became a steady downpour. "Son, I am giving you one chance, get back in here and we can discuss this in a civil manner. You leave now with my property, you will never be welcome back here."

Anton scoffed in reply as he turned around, thankful for the rain as it helped to cover up the tears that were starting to come down. "Well then, father, I suppose it's a good thing I never felt welcome in our family anyway. Goodbye."

With that said and his father screaming out words that just blurred together in his memory, Anton took off, away from his old life, his old town, everything. The only thing about his past that he would ever want to remember was his riolu and why he kept on fighting.

Anton sighed as he glanced down at his pokéballs. It had been over a decade and a half since he had left Prospect during that storm, and while he never looked back on that day, the memory had crept up on him for some reason as he left Tombolo. He had come so far in his training in that time, but not far enough, nowhere near where he needed to be now.

He would have to train them hard, push them to their limits and break those limits if they wanted to succeed. How else would he face the rogue Dorian scientist, this elusive Edwin Spruce? He would pay for his insolence, and Anton was just glad that he had been the one assigned to make him pay.

He would silence that little scientist for good, once he got his hands on him.