Welcome to chapter two cubed! The reason I'm adding a clarification as to whose POV it is, is because there will be more than one in this chapter. And no, I'm not running out of ideas. This is necessary to the story.

Also, I'm considering alternating between two days and three days for new chapters. Tell me what you think in the review box, or DMs either here or on Discord. Check my profile for my Discord tag.

Finally, a quick word, a "trigger warning" if you will: There is a mass tragedy described in this chapter. If it's too dark for you, I suggest you stop reading right now.

BRIAN DUNKIRK, 17

Mr. Goshen had been smiling before, but he wasn't smiling anymore.

As soon as the meeting was over, he led me back out to the hallway with hardly a word, at least at first. It was heavily awkward, just walking side by side with this man who had so much more authority than a seventeen-year-old working class farm boy.

Turning to me eventually, he said, "I'm sorry about Mr. Williams' words to you. It really wasn't meant as a threat. He just wanted to make sure you understood what you're dealing with".

I shrugged. "Yeah, well, it certainly sounded like one to me".

"Look, like I said, I'm really sorry about that. But I can't control what my colleagues say; I can only control what I say". Mr. Goshen sounded more curt than ever as he spoke, even more official than he had earlier.

We headed back out into the late morning daylight, where Korey was waiting for us. He hadn't been in the room during our discussion; he seemed to have been soaking up the sun instead, for he looked tanned, almost sunburned.

"I have to get back to work" Mr. Goshen told Korey. "Take Mr. Dunkirk back to his house; his parents aren't going to want him gone any longer".

I climbed back into the news van and buckled in for the ride home. The whole trip, I couldn't stop thinking about how badly the day had started.

On the bright side, they say that when you hit rock bottom, there's nowhere to go but up. I sure as hell hope they're right about that.

Sandra the Miltank had mentioned that my new gift was dangerous, and now I knew exactly why she had been so alarmed. I dreaded having to tell her what I had learned, because then she'd probably yell at me for letting the whole world know.

The thing is, I hadn't had a choice. Michael had made the choice for me.

We got back to my house, where Kalo was once again sunbathing on the front porch. Rather than appearing relaxed, however, he looked livid.

When he saw me, my pet Houndour stood up and bared his fangs at me. For a moment, I thought my life might be in danger; when Houndour bite, they bite hard.

Then Kalo relaxed a bit, but his tone was still very intense when he spoke to me. He sounded angry, wild, and crazy.

You're back! I was worried sick; why the hell did you go with them?

"I had to, Kalo. I just had to. You'll understand later".

The Houndour shook his head. I understand right the hell now why you went with the news people. It's because you don't care about your best friend at all, and only wanted to profit off of the planet's curse, as some would say. The misfortune of being Brian Dunkirk.

I was about to protest that if I were trying to make money, what was so wrong about that? It's no secret by now that my family was struggling to make ends meet, and if we had more money, we could transition into a more comfortable standard of living.

You could have endangered the whole world, just by doing that. Do you understand me?

Here came the "fun" part: Telling Kalo about what I'd heard.

"I was just at the Vulpix News local headquarters" I replied sheepishly. "They told me about Calvin Fitzgerald, the only other human in recorded history to be able to speak Poketongue".

Kalo nodded. I've heard all about him. This is bad, Brian. Like, forget about Bad Luck Brian, you're going to be known as Bad News Brian by the time this is over.

"You-you think I'm a terrorist?" I spat, shocked that my own pet would accuse me of such a thing.

Turning away from me, Kalo did the Houndour equivalent of shrugging. "We gotta be careful about this gift. We really do. Can't take any chances".

I simply stood there, mouth hanging open, in total disbelief.

My own pet Houndour had accused me of being a terrorist. I had managed to get Kalo to turn against me.

Unbelievable. Today has gone from bad to worse.

I wondered: Would it be a good idea for me to catch up with Sandra, Tutar, and Cheshire, or would they freak out the same way Kalo had?

Eventually, I decided that I would hold off on it for a few hours, giving myself time to decompress after that interview. That said, this would only delay the inevitable, particularly if Kalo decided to snitch on me to our farm animals.

I didn't think about that. I should probably tell them first, before he has a chance to. They'd rather hear it from me than from Kalo.

Something, probably the desire to decompress as stated above, prevented me from doing that. Instead, I went inside, walked over to the fridge, and downed a tall glass of lemonade.

My parents came downstairs a few minutes later as I was sitting at the kitchen table, my head in my hands. Why they'd been upstairs, I didn't know.

They both looked at me with their, "You Have Some Explaining To Do" expressions, trademarked for use by parents only. I internally groaned as I realized that I did, indeed, have some explaining to do. This wasn't going to be fun.

"Just tell me right now", my father began, "how long have you known about this gift?"

The question caught me off guard. It really shouldn't have, given that I'd been asked that not an hour ago at the broadcasting hall, but it did nonetheless.

"Friday morning was when I gained the ability" I replied, trying to sound as calm as possible. In reality, though, I felt pretty bad for keeping it from my parents for two days.

My mother shook her head. "Brian, we're always transparent with you, but we expect it to cut both ways. Can you promise me that, in the future, if anything like this happens, you will let us know?"

I could have pointed out that I didn't know if I even had a future besides giving numerous interviews and being on the run from bad guys, but I didn't think that would be productive.

Instead, I simply nodded. "I suppose I will".

My mother narrowed her eyes. "You suppose".

"I will!" I insisted. "You can take away my video games for a week, two weeks, even a month. Do whatever you want to me, because I fully admit it. I screwed up!"

My father shook his head. "We're not going to punish you for it. But we are pretty disappointed in you nonetheless. The guilt you probably feel right now is punishment enough".

I didn't know whether to feel relieved or further disturbed by his words. My mother probably felt the same way, because she turned to face my father, saying, "Carl, don't be so harsh with him. He is our son, after all".

At that moment, I felt even more guilty than I had before. Trying to see things from my parents' point of view, I could definitely understand why they'd be upset with me. I also knew that they had to have feared for my life, or at least my sanity, when I'd left in that news van earlier today.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. But that book on the coffee table-".

"The book's gone" my father insisted. "We threw it away. We think there's something fishy about it".

I almost laughed at that, because my father was most likely still ignorant about the book's "special power", if you will. I half-expected that at any moment, it would reappear, in a shimmer of light, on that coffee table.

"I have tried that before," I told my parents. "That book just doesn't go away. If you try to get rid of it, it will come back. Just watch".

Sure enough, right on cue, there was a shimmering noise as the Book of Catastrophes respawned on the coffee table in all its glory. Just like it had the previous time, the book appeared to be in Like New condition, one of the categories used for items on Ebay. Had its dark secrets still been secrets, it could have commanded a pretty high price on that site.

My mother fainted; her knees simply buckled, and she collapsed. My father managed to catch her before she hit the ground.

He gave me a dirty look, and I said, "I'm really sorry that I kept this from you. It won't happen again".

I expected him to burst out at me with something like, Sorry won't fix the problem! That wasn't what he did, though.

Instead, my father simply sighed, saying, "I have to make sure your mother's okay. Please go and do your farm chores; they won't do themselves".

The reactions of our livestock to the news were almost exactly as I had pictured them earlier.

Well, we told you it was bad news!, Tutar yelled at me. And now you know why. You're in a heap of trouble, boy.

Sandra was more measured in her choice of language.

So the whole world is going to know now. You're really going to have to be careful, Brian. There could be plenty of people out there with secret, evil plans.

"Trust me", I told the pair of Miltank, "I know that already. They told me all about the Great Fire at the news HQ".

The two Miltank and the Pignite all appeared shocked, but not surprised, if that makes any sense. They were staring at me, and it occurred to me that they were probably worried for me.

No, not "probably". They were definitely worried for me.

After I cleaned up the manure and fed the animals their lunch, I headed back to the house. There would be time later to discuss the specifics of Calvin Fitzgerald's crimes, but right now I wasn't in the mood.

Once I reached the house again, I saw that my parents were still in the living room. My mother was lying on the couch, taking sips of water, whereas my father was reading the Sunday paper, doing either the crossword or Sudoku; I couldn't tell which.

Neither of them said a word. This didn't surprise me too much, but it still added to the overall tension in the room. I didn't have any desire to make them angrier than they probably already were, so I simply headed back up to my room.

I went back to reading Zoroark's Pendant, the novel I'd been assigned for summer reading. It still wasn't easy to focus on it; my eyes began to glaze over, making the words seem to blur together on the page.

Do I need glasses?, I wondered. Or am I just tired? I sure hope it's the latter, because I don't feel like going out to get a prescription. I'd be recognized everywhere I went.

One thought led to another, and I soon became aware that today was Sunday. Growing up, Sundays had always been my least favorite days of the week. In the end, I just couldn't enjoy them, simply because I knew in the back of my mind that I'd have school the next day.

School wasn't something I enjoyed. While my grades weren't terrible, they could certainly have been better. That wasn't the only thing I disliked about it, though.

You see, going to school meant having more social interactions, and those weren't exactly my cup of tea. It was one thing to talk to Kalo or the farm Pokemon, because they seemed a lot simpler than humans. At least, they had back then, when I didn't know exactly what they were saying.

Until Kalo started hating me. Is that really all my fault, though?

I started feeling somewhat dizzy from shame and also fatigue, and it wasn't much longer before "dizzy" turned into "nauseous". I set my book down and tried to focus on a specific point on the horizon.

More to the point, realizing that it was Sunday also meant realizing that I had work the next day. My weekend of freedom from the Chauntecleer was coming to a close, and, the more I thought about it, the more I realized how little I had appreciated it.

I should have taken more time to savor the weekend. Yeah, I had the hangout with Michael, but it was ruined by trying to hide everything from him, an effort in which I ultimately failed.

Michael.

That son of a bitch was going to pay for what he had done to me. He was probably reading stories on online news sites about the interview, which had surely been posted on all of the major news sites by now.

His last name didn't fit his personality at all, either; Michael Clarion hadn't exactly been clarion about his desire to betray me.

How could he be so duplicitous? How could he turn his back on his best friend, just like that?

I wasn't a religious person, but to use an analogy from Scripture, Michael's betrayal had been the biggest one since Judas did so to Jesus Christ. To be fair, depending on your religious views, said betrayal may have been necessary to save humanity from their sins.

This one, on the other hand, served no purpose for the greater good, none at all.

I had been numb before, but I wasn't numb anymore. The second I found a way to get my revenge on my former best friend, I would.

Eventually, thoughts of taking vengeance faded from my mind, and I was able to one again turn my focus to the book. This wasn't the Book of Catastrophes, but Zoroark's Pendant certainly felt like a book of catastrophes. I hated reading whenever it was assigned by a teacher.

At some point, the reading got so boring that I managed to fall asleep with my nose still in the pages. Anyone who came into my room while I was sleeping would have seen me lying on my stomach, butt in the air, completely dead to the world. It's a wonder I didn't suffocate.

The dream I had was a little different from the others. From a bird's-eye view, with a patchwork of land spread out below me, I could see what seemed like almost everything.

It was the most beautiful city I'd ever laid my eyes upon, which, admittedly, wasn't saying very much, given that I had hardly ever traveled in my life. The reasons for that should be obvious by now.

The city was right next to a tropical cyan ocean, and the beach was adjacent to a bustling boardwalk. Judging by the sun's position, it was the middle of the day, and both locals and tourists were swimming in the surf, walking along the beach, or enjoying the shade of one of the boardwalk's numerous palm trees.

Out on the water, it was easy to see people jet skiing and parasailing, and I almost cried at the sight. Thanks to my family's poor financial situation, I would never have been able to afford such activities, and yet they looked so enjoyable.

It was then that I realized something. I'd seen this city before; just a few hours ago, in fact.

This is Oldale Town, Hoenn.

Calling it a "town" didn't do it justice, for aside from the beach, the city was a bustling metropolis that stretched for several miles at least. There were even a number of skyscrapers that could be either office buildings or hotels.

The scene looked like a paradise, a place that I'd love to spend a week or even a lifetime in. What could possibly go wrong?

A lot, it turns out. In one corner of the city, at the edge of a large tropical rainforest, there was a column of smoke rising from what looked like a rail yard. Perhaps some homeless person was building a fire for themself to stay warm.

Yeah, in the middle of the day, in the middle of the tropics. That sounds plausible, doesn't it?

As I watched the column of smoke rise, from the standpoint of an omniscient, neutral observer, I gained an increasing sense of dread. As the pieces of the puzzle began coming together in my head, I felt like screaming, but I knew nobody would hear me.

BOOM.

A wave of fire rose from the smoke column, creating a mushroom cloud as though a nuclear weapon had been detonated. It seemed to rip through everything in its path; even the ultra-modern hotels were no match for the inferno.

The blast was so powerful, riders were knocked off of their jet skis. The towline from one of the parasailing vessels snapped. Buildings crumbled into ruin.

People below all screamed for their lives, trying not to be swept off their feet by the sheer force of the explosion, or else avoid being buried by the rubble.

It is a well-known fact, but it's still curious that something, particularly a city as massive as Oldale Town, takes many years, decades even, to build, but conversely, it can be wiped away in an instant.

Just like that, the lives of tens if not hundreds of thousands, much of the cityscape, and a significant portion of the jungle were gone. Just. Like. That. And I was powerless to do anything but view one of the most horrific scenes in the history of Hoenn.

When the dust settled, there was an enormous crater where Oldale Town had once been. Miles of jungle had been incinerated, and once-great hotels and office towers had collapsed into rubble.

This is horrible to watch. The most disturbing thing I've ever seen.

I could now fully understand why it had been so important to keep my power under wraps. If it hadn't been 100% in my grasp before, it certainly was now.

Nothing like that can be allowed to happen. Ever again.

MICHAEL CLARION, 17

The first thing I remember is waking up with a pounding headache. Not the first thing in my life, period, but the first thing I remember from my time in captivity.

When I say "pounding", I really mean it. It was as though the interior of my skull, directly behind my forehead, were being pounded with a sledgehammer. It was worse than a migraine; this headache reverberated around my entire body.

I tried to open my eyes, but couldn't. The pain was just too great.

For the time being, I felt so groggy and was in such agony that I couldn't even remember how I'd gotten here. It should go without saying that I had no idea where "here" even was.

Have I died and gone to hell? Because one thing's for sure, this isn't heaven!

I hadn't believed in either heaven or hell prior to this, and I still didn't think I did. The excruciating pain just felt too real.

Once more, I tried to open my eyes. This time, I succeeded in my efforts.

I found myself in a dark room, so dark that I couldn't see anything. I couldn't even see my own body. That in itself was incredibly frustrating, because I'd gone through so many trials and tribulations, it had seemed, just to wake up. Now that I "saw" my surroundings, I knew it had been for naught.

Five seconds later, I heard the door to the room open, and a light switch being flicked.

This resulted in an immediate sensory overload. The room suddenly became very bright, and I was able to see that everything appeared industrial, if that makes any sense.

But the pain! It was all-consuming now, and I found myself thrashing around as though I were being electrocuted. If I managed to knock myself out, at least I wouldn't be in pain anymore.

"Stop that right now!" a curt male voice yelled.

I tried to control the tremors, but I simply couldn't; my body was seizing up. I felt vomit rising in my throat as the pain grew to apocalyptic levels.

"I...can't...too much pain" I gasped. As my limbs danced around, trying to find a comfortable position, I instinctively knew I was going to throw up.

The man's yelling had resulted in the agony becoming ever more severe; any stimuli made it worse. My brain was practically a Civil War battlefield; it was as though two armies, maybe even three or four armies, were engaging in battle.

Leaning over, I vomited everything I'd eaten that morning.

"Ewww, that's nasty" the man replied, laughing at me. "Most people don't have that bad a reaction; what did you eat?".

I didn't answer that question. I was in so much pain that I couldn't even remember.

"Whatever", the man said eventually in a no-nonsense manner. It was then that I got a good look at him.

He was tall and buff, with a head that was nearly bald and piercing blue eyes. My (probably former) best friend, Brian Dunkirk, had blue eyes as well, but there was a big difference.

Brian's eyes were bright and friendly, at least when I was talking to him about a topic we both enjoyed. This man, on the other hand, didn't show any soft side. He simply appeared big, brooding, and brutal.

"Who...are you?" I managed to choke out.

The man shook his head, chuckling as he did so. Much like with his eye color, this chuckle wasn't welcoming in the slightest.

"Names, names, names. You want to know my name, huh?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Yes. And I think I have a right to know where I am and why I'm here". For someone who was lying on the floor next to a puddle of his own puke, I probably sounded pretty bold.

The man laughed again. "Well, you're not going to know any of those things. You don't need to know any of those things, for that's not the purpose you're here to serve".

Even though I was still in a great deal of pain, my mind was starting to come back online. I was able to think clearly enough to put some of the pieces together.

Okay, so they have me here to serve some purpose. What purpose that is, I have no idea. Judging by the way this guy speaks to me, it can't be anything good.

And, as I continued wracking my brain for answers, I suddenly remembered how I'd ended up here.

I still didn't know exactly where I was, but the events of the previous day came rushing back to me.

One thing I want to stress is that this Pokemon world is far more technologically advanced than our world; of course, it has to be in order to accommodate everything we see in the series. And, to picture the explosion, I imagine either the moon crashing into Termina from Zelda: Majora's Mask, or the explosion that took place in Lebanon in August 2020. I can only imagine how terrifying either had to be to witness in person.

This chapter was a little shorter than usual, but I think that's okay. Some chapters will be long, some will be short; that's just how it is. I'll see you guys next time.