Can't say I'm surprised no one is reviewing since this is a re upload...

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Chapter Fourteen: Hanging On by a Thread

Maylene banged on the door as hard as she could, not caring she was making a lot of noise for this time of the day. It was just a few minutes past midnight and all she wanted to do was clean herself up and berate herself for being a complete fool. "Open up, dammit!" she said, doing her best to hold back the sobs. If she lost control now she wouldn't be able to stop crying for hours.

The door opened several moments later and Darren was standing there. His mouth dropped open seeing the tears running down Maylene's pallid cheeks. "Maylene?"

She pushed past him, keeping her head down on the ground, not wanting her friend to see her in this state. Tough gym leaders didn't shed tears, especially not in front of their trainers. She was their idol – they came to her for comfort. It didn't work the other way around. "I'm fine," she said, lying through her teeth, hoping Darren couldn't see past it.

A hand rested on her shoulder. "No, you're not. What happened?"

She wanted to be strong in front of one of her students, but she couldn't do it. Turning around, she threw herself into his arms and sobbed into his shoulder. "It was… a disaster!" she sobbed, clinging onto Darren tightly. "He's not the same, Darren! He… he kissed me!" Volkner. He was drunk, but it was still a kiss. He embarrassed her. Did he think she was just some other girl he could have his way with?

"Who did?"

She pulled back, tears rolling down her cheeks. The mascara she had been wearing now ran down her cheeks as well giving her the panda eye like. At least she was at home now and not at the casino still. "V-Volkner!" she blurted. "I thought he was… a good guy… but he's different!" She took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, but it didn't help. She was shaking.

Darren pulled her into a warm embrace again. "You're home now, Maylene. Everything's going to be all right," he said soothingly. He held her for a couple of moments then drew back. "Do you want me to deal with him?"

Maylene shook her head. "No. I… I hit him." If word reached the league a gym leader had attacked another gym leader in a public setting then she could face possible suspension. Battles were supposed to be solved with their Pokemon, not with fists. "I asked Flint to come down."

"Flint? The Elite Four member? Why bring the league officials into this?"

"I want to help him, Darren. Curse me for being a fool, but I… I can't stand by and watch him suffer." Flint would know what to do. He was Volkner's best friend for years before he left for the league. She gazed up into Darren's dark eyes, trying to determine what he was thinking. The brothers were awfully protective of their leader.

"I don't agree, but if this is what you want, I'll help."

A smile spread across her face and she wiped the tears away with her hands. "I look so stupid, don't I?" She forced a dry laugh then lowered her hands to her sides. "I'm going to take this crap off my face. Flint should be here soon." She moved away from Darren and retreated to the bathroom. There was no point in greeting her guests if she looked like a mess. Flint might think she was the one who needed help. She hoped this wasn't a mistake.

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Houndour fell to the ground, landing on his side, gasping for air. His trainer, Paul, walked over to his Pokemon, stared down then spat at the ground before the canine's face. Pathetic, he thought. He kicked the ground, sending up grains of sand into the canine's eyes then turned his back. "Bloody Pokemon… I swear I should've just let you die."

The road to Solaceon had been tough and full of strong trainers, but he had avoided them all by taking a secret path through the forest. He wasn't there to fight trainers anyway - he was there to prey on the weak trainers and take their Pokemon from them. Of course, he didn't ambush all the trainers – only the ones that looked strong. Strong Pokemon were essential and if he wanted to become the best, he needed the strongest Pokemon around. What better way to achieve that goal than hiding behind some bushes waiting for the right moment to strike?

Sadly, none of the trainers appealed to him at all. They were weak and undeserving of being trainers. He looked to his Houndour again, and screwed his face up in disgust. The trainers were weak – just like his pathetic Houndour. There was only one way to deal with weak Pokemon. Placing a hand into his pokebelt, he removed the canine's pokeball and raised it above his head. "I don't like weaklings. You have no place on my team." He threw the ball, successfully hitting Houndour on his side. The ball rolled off.

Houndour climbed to his feet, ears pinned against his head, keeping his snout low. The canine moved towards his trainer, swaying from side to side, severely weakened by a battle against a wild Pokemon. Blood was leaking out the right corner of the canine's mouth. There were various other cuts and bruises all over the dog's body, including a twig wedged in between two toes on the canine's front left paw.

Paul didn't care – as far as he was concerned, Pokemon could only become stronger with harsh training. How could a Pokemon become stronger if they were treated with love and care? It didn't make any sense to him. "Look, quit the whining. You're useless to me now," he rasped, kicking at the ground again, sending more grains of sand flying in the canine's face. The dog took a step back, but refused to walk away.

Some trainers kept their weak Pokemon because of sentimental issues or because they couldn't catch anything better. Some even believed there was no such thing as a weak Pokemon foolishly believing all Pokemon were equal. Strong Pokemon won battles. Weak Pokemon lost battles. Why couldn't anyone else understand a simple concept?

Houndour remained in place, looking at his trainer, holding his injured paw in the air. Paul rolled his eyes and walked over to a bush, bending over to pick up a pebble. He straightened and hurled it at his Houndour, hitting the weakling square between the eyes. The canine yelped, prompting a hearty laugh to leave Paul's throat.

"Don't you understand? I don't want you with me anymore. You've been dumped you stupid mutt." Houndoor took a couple of steps backwards, eyes never leaving his trainer's face. Paul looked away, turning his attention to the road to Solaceon Town instead. Maybe the dumb Houndour would get the hint and realize he wasn't wanted anymore. Stupid Houndour's.

Houndour wouldn't give up though. The canine continued to whine which only caused Paul's irritation levels to increase. Glancing over his shoulder, he shot the canine a dirty look. Houndour was going to follow him around everywhere – the canines were known to be fairly loyal towards their trainer if they were treated well. In comparison to the canine's former owner, Paul could be considered a 'nice trainer'. There was only one way to ensure the dog didn't follow him around – abandon the canine at the top of the Lost Tower. Fortunately, the tower wasn't too far away from where he was standing currently.

"Hey mutt, follow me. We're going on an adventure," he demanded, jerking his head back towards the wounded Houndour. The dog's mood seemed to lift and he limped over towards his trainer. Paul sighed, bent over and placed his arms beneath the dog's belly and lifted it up, cradling him in his arms. The sooner he ditched the dog to die, the better.

As soon as he left the shelter of the forest, he felt a couple of drops of rain land on his head. There were a few clouds passing by, but there didn't appear to be a storm in sight. It might have been bird droppings. Bird droppings landing on a trainer's head was considered lucky though so perhaps this meant Houndour would finally get the hint. He quickened his pace, ignoring the trainers that were passing by.

Some of the trainers stopped to gawk at him and he suspected his rough appearance made them wary. There were leaves in his hair and his clothes were torn in several places, but that was the risk a trainer took if they wanted to become stronger. Besides, it made him look intimidating. Better to look beaten up than run around with a bowl haircut like those dumb Galactic people. Just what exactly was there deal anyway?

He reached the base of the Lost Tower and stepped inside, immediately greeted by a musky odour. To this day, he still couldn't fathom why people bothered paying their respects to the dead Pokemon of the past. A dead Pokemon was dead. Why worry about it? He looked around and noticed there were quite a few trainers in here, kneeling before headstones with blurry eyes. Rolling his eyes, he walked past them and climbed up the stairs.

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According to the map, the road to Solaceon would take a day to reach, possibly even two if she got sidetracked by touristy activities on the way there. Checking out the Lost Tower was one of those tourist activities she was tempted to explore. The gym advisor hadn't said much about it, but it was a memorial tower for those that had fallen in battle all those decades ago.

"What do you think Gastly? Would you like to explore the Lost Tower?" Dawn said, looking at her Ghost-type Pokemon floating around her head. Gastly nodded and Dawn smiled. She wasn't surprised. Gastly probably was a distant relative to the Pokemon that had died in battle. There was no need to reach Solaceon in a hurry either – she had just left the Pokemon Centre a couple of hours ago despite her mother's concern. Johanna didn't want her to leave, but she let her daughter go because Dawn wanted to.

Unfortunately, she didn't have a chance to ask her mother more about Cyrus. Her mother had run off to the bathroom, complaining about a sickness of some sort and Dawn decided not to interrogate her now. There would always be a next time, she knew. The Lost Tower was a five storey grey building with an image of a pokeball engraved on the highest floor. There was a signpost at the entrance on the right providing a brief history of the tragic events that occurred here many years ago. Dawn was going to read it, but Gastly was eager to enter the building. She made a note to read about it later then followed her Gastly inside. It was surprisingly cool in the tower. She wrapped her arms around herself.

The scent of old gravestones filled her nostrils as she ventured deeper into the tower's first floor. There were a couple of other trainers here, kneeling down leaving flowers before the gravestones, dabbing away at their eyes with tissues. Dawn found it unsettling. It was more unsettling being inside a memorial cemetery than being chased around by spirits in Hearthome's gym.

She walked across the pale green-coloured tiling and made her way up the first flight of stairs, her Gastly floating directly in front of her. Gastly floated through the walls, popping out on Dawn's side every couple of minutes, and Dawn couldn't help but chuckle at her Pokemon's odd behaviour. Her Pokemon could probably sense the deceased here and it made him act in an unusual manner.

"Oomph!" she said, as she was pushed into the wall roughly. She recovered, and glared at the person who had shoved her so rudely.

A male in torn clothes with longish purple bangs turned to sneer at her. "Look where you walk," he said, shoving his hands into his pocket, pinning his shoulders back.

Dawn was not amused. "This is a memorial place. You can't be so rude to people."

The boy rolled his eyes. "Guess what, lady? There are no rules when it comes to the life of trainer. I do as I please and if you get in my way, I won't hold back." He looked her up and down then smirked. "Actually, on second thoughts, I'm not going to waste my time on a weakling like you." He started walking down the stairs his cold laughter filling the air.

Dawn didn't even know the guy, but she didn't like him. Was he one of those wild trainers she had heard about? He certainly looked the part. There were even a few leaves stuck in his hair and even some dirt patches on his jeans, adding to her assumption he was a wild trainer. She turned to her Gastly who peeked through the wall. "Go and teach that kid a lesson," she whispered.

Gastly's smile widened. He disappeared into the wall again then emerged behind the boy's head. Gastly floated behind him, before stretching out his tongue to lick the back of male's head. The boy immediately brought a hand to his neck and spun around, a murderous expression on his face, but Gastly had disappeared again. His eyes met with Dawn's.

"A weakling?" Dawn said.

"At least your sense of hearing is better than your eyesight…" the boy mocked.

"I'm not weak. I've got three badges," Dawn boasted, feeling the need to wipe that smirk of the trainer's face. Boasting wasn't something she did on a regular basis, but this kid was asking for it. How dare he shove her into a wall and imply she was weak? "How many have you got?"

He snorted. "You think you're tough just because you have a couple of badges? A lot of trainers walk past this tower believing the same thing, but they didn't stand a chance against me, chump," he stated smugly. "Now, have you got a name or should I refer to you as chump from now on?"

A muscle jerked in her jaw. Chump? "Dawn. What is yours?"

"Paul."

As much as she wanted to cut down this guy's ego, she couldn't start a fight in a graveyard. That would be disrespectful to the spirits resting here. All she could do was glare at this jerk and hope he'd leave her alone. "I'd teach you a lesson myself, but you're not worth my effort," she said, trying to match his arrogance in her tone.

"You talk big for a little girl." Was it this guy's job to insult people? Every time he opened his mouth, he said something negative and demeaning. He jerked his head up the stairs. "If you make it to the top, you'll find a Houndour. You can have him if you want – I have no room for weaklings on my team."

"You abandoned your Pokemon?"

He shrugged like it was no big deal. "Why do you look so surprised? Strong trainers have strong Pokemon on their team. If one of my Pokemon loses a battle against a wild or tamed Pokemon, I abandon them. I'm not going to have a team of weaklings."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've heard in my life. You don't become friends with a Pokemon and then dump them when things don't go to plan," Dawn retorted, her hatred for Paul growing with each passing second. If she adopted that way of thinking then she would have allowed Deino to be put down. Heck, she would've had a new team of Pokemon because they had all lost a battle at some point. "Abandoning your Pokemon… that's foolish. You'll never develop a bond with your Pokemon."

He rolled his eyes. "Save your preaching for someone who cares, Dawn." He moved in closer, eyes never leaving her face. Dawn tried to find some sort of kindness in them, but there was nothing but hatred. "Love doesn't help you win battles – power does. You'd be wise to remember that." He dug his hands in his pocket. "I might just see around… maybe next time you can prove me wrong with your battling ideals. I need the laugh." He walked down the stairs.

"What a jerk…" Dawn muttered.

She waited for the boy to leave her sight before heading up the stairs again. Paul had said something about abandoning a Houndour on the top of the tower. Dawn wanted to reach the Houndour before another trainer did – what if some other jerk got their hands on the poor Pokemon? What if the Pokemon died?

She quickened her pace, thankful the stairs weren't too difficult to climb. It was tiring, but she made it the top in a couple of minutes. The rooms were pretty small and only became smaller the higher up she went. She bypassed more rooms filled with gravestones before finally reaching the top. A wounded Houndour sat in the middle of the room, his chin resting on his paws. The canine was making a whining noise and Dawn felt her heart break.

She approached the Houndour carefully, uncertain how the canine would react. He didn't look like he could cause much damage, but a frightened Pokemon behaved in unpredictable ways. Would the canine run? Try to attack? Or let her touch him? The Houndour lifted his head and watched Dawn carefully, ears standing erect.

"I'm not going to hurt you…" Dawn said softly, slowly lowering herself to her knees to crawl across the tiled floor. This was risky. If Houndour attacked her, she'd find herself back in the Pokemon Centre again with another wound. One bandaged wrist was enough. She drew closer and slowly lifted a hand, reaching out towards the canine.

The dog moved his snout forward, pressing his cool wet nose against her hand. He jaws parted revealing a row of baby teeth, but they still could inflict some decent damage should the canine decide she was an enemy. Fortunately, for Dawn's sake, the canine wasn't in the mood to fight. Houndour moved a paw forward and Dawn noticed there was something lodged in between his toes.

Paul had abandoned his Houndour and hadn't bothered to bring the canine medical attention. Had he left him here to die surrounded by other dead Pokemon? Paul had said she could have the Houndour if she wanted. She studied the poor canine. Having a dog on her team would be pretty cool to have, but what typing was it? She pulled out her Pokedex.

Houndour. It is smart enough to hunt in packs. It uses a variety of cries for communicating with others.

She glanced down at the screen where the typing class of Fire and Dark appeared. "I don't really need another dark-type, but you're just too cute," Dawn said, grinning down at the canine, stroking the dog on the head. "And you are a fire-type as well. Well, I'm going to take care of you, okay? You can trust me." The dog wagged his tail. She was surprised how quickly the dog had warmed up to her but perhaps it was because it was in pain and not willing to put up a fight. She hoped the relationship wouldn't change – she still had to work on gaining trust from Deino.

The Houndour didn't have a pokeball to return to and she didn't have any spare ones on her. She was going to have to carry the dog back to the Pokemon Centre before his condition worsened. It did mean returning to Hearthome, but it would be a short and necessary stay. She bent down and moved closer to the Houndour and tried to slip her hands underneath the canine's belly. Houndour looked alarmed. Dawn pulled back.

She couldn't possibly allow the Houndour to follow her all the way back down. The poor canine would probably faint by the time it reached the bottom. Despite the pain Paul had put him through the canine was still loyal to him to an extent. Another idea formed in her head. Grotle was big enough now to carry Houndour on his back. Without wasting another thought, Dawn summoned Grotle.

Could Pokemon of different species communicate with each other? "Grotle, Houndour is going to join us, but I can't carry him. Would you mind carrying Houndour for me?" Grotle nodded and turned to Houndour. The two Pokemon looked at each other. Grotle turned around and crouched, wriggling his body. Somehow, that was supposed to be a communication sign for Houndour to climb on.

It worked strangely and the canine climbed onto Grotle's back, clinging on by biting down on Grotle's small tree. If it hurt, Grotle didn't show it. He didn't seem bothered at all that he was carrying a passenger. Dawn smiled. "You're going to be fine, Houndour. Paul is going to regret abandoning you."

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Volkner sat up and brought a hand to the side of his head. He felt like someone had brought a hammer down on his head. With a groan, he tried to climb to his feet, but found that simple action made him want to lose the contents of his stomach. What the heck had happened last night? He brought his knees to his chest and leaned forward, squeezing his eyes shut hoping the pain would go away.

"Where is he?"

"He's sitting on the floor against the counter. He woke up about an hour ago."

Volkner heard voices, but he couldn't quite tell who was speaking. It was too much effort at this point. All he wanted to do right now was lie down on a couch and watch television all day long and not have to deal with anyone. Speaking of television, where the heck was he anyway? He definitely wasn't at home.

"Where am I?" he murmured, slowly lifting his head up from his knees. He was sitting on cold wooden floorboards with his back pressed up against a wooden counter. Bright sun rays poured through the open windows causing him to shield his eyes with his right arm. The light was too bright. There was a sign nearby with some print on it, but he couldn't read it. Too much effort. "I want to go home," he muttered.

A few moments later, he felt someone touch his shoulder. He immediately jumped, jerked his head to his left and snarled. The other person laughed. "Did I shock you, Volkner?" He laughed again. "The owner of this establishment tells me you had a rough night."

Volkner snorted. "Tell me about it," he muttered, wincing from the pain in his head. He didn't remember anything at all about last night.

"We're at the casino in Veilstone."

Casino at Veilstone? That explained the hammer to the head feeling. Had he really consumed that much alcohol in one night? Just the thought of alcohol made his stomach twist. He lurched forward without warning, spilling forth yesterday's breakfast on the floor and over himself. Disgusting. "I want to go home," he whined.

"You're not going anywhere, Volkner. Maylene sent me a text last night telling me to get here as quickly as possible. It's a good thing it's quiet at the league otherwise no one would come to help you," the other person said. "You have certainly seen better days, my friend."

Volkner recognized that voice now. Flint. He was a member of Sinnoh's Elite Four and specialized in Fire-types. The last time he had seen Flint was two years ago and that was before the guy had become a member of the league. Nowadays, he only contacted Flint through web services and that was on rare occasions.

"I'm taking you down to Maylene's gym. You need rest and privacy – you won't get that at the Pokemon Centre. Come on, I'll help you up."

Flint placed one of Volkner's arms around his neck and placed his own around Volkner's then slowly stood up. Volkner almost stumbled, but thankfully Flint was there to support him. As soon as they were standing, Flint walked Volkner out of the building, taking careful steps so Volkner could keep up. The gym was just around the corner, but for Volkner it felt like it was miles away. Every step made his head spin.

"I never thought of you as a drinker, Volkner. What happened to you, man?"

Volkner grunted in response. He didn't feel like talking.

"Come on, talk to me. We're pals, right? I want to know why my good friend started drinking. I'm not going to leave you until you start talking."

Flint was so pushy. Volkner wanted to push him away but he'd probably hit the ground first before he did anything else. Thankfully, it was quiet in the streets – the locals were probably feeling the same way he did. Like crap. "Why does it matter?" Volkner slurred. He feared he'd vomit again if he kept opening his mouth.

"It matters because you are a gym leader and a gym leader should behave accordingly. You can have your fun, but embarrassing situations like this? It doesn't reflect on the league too well since we are the ones who decide who gets to be a gym leader." Volkner's knees buckled. Arceus, how much had he consumed last night? He had experienced quite a few hangovers before but none quite like this. "You need to tell me what's going on before this gets reported to Cynthia. She'll have you stripped of your title, but I can convince her to give you another chance. You just have to tell me what's going on."

They continued walking down the cobbled path until Volkner decided he couldn't walk any further. His legs gave way and he fell to the floor, pulling down Flint with him. A few curse words left Volkner's words as he hit the ground. He didn't stay on the ground for too long though as he felt the urge to vomit again rise up within. He climbed on all fours and hurled yesterday's lunch onto the path then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Let her strip me of my title," he spat in between heavy pants, hands resting on his knees. "I don't want to be a gym leader anymore."

Flint knelt down beside him. "I know you don't mean that. You always wanted to be a gym leader, ever since you were a kid. Your mother told me one afternoon while you were lying in bed with a head cold." He paused, as Volkner vomited again then continued. "Your father would be disappointed."

"I don't care. He's dead. Dead people no longer matter."

"He was proud of you."

Volkner looked up from the floor and glared. "I'm sure he'd be filled with pride if he could see me now," he replied, giving a sardonic laugh. "I haven't seen you in two years and now that we're meeting face to face, the only thing you can talk about is my late father and how proud he is of me?"

"I joined the Elite Four. I had responsibilities."

"Yeah right," he said ruefully. "You said it earlier – the league has been quiet. What were you doing then? Watching movies on your big fancy plasma screen? Spending time in the heated pool earning your paycheck while the rest of us have to work?" he hissed. "It's not exactly easy being a gym leader, Flint. We don't have the same luxuries as you and you league buddies have."

He knew he was coming off across as sounding like a jealous brat, but who could blame him? Flint, his so-called best friend, had abandoned him for the league when he needed a friend's support and the guy barely made an effort to contact him. He was left with the other gym leaders for support and his relationships with the other seven had fallen apart over the past two years. He had no one.

Flint placed a hand on his back. "I'm sorry that I left."

Volkner shoved his hand off. "I don't want your pity." He averted his eyes from Flint's face and looked towards the sky instead, focusing his sights on the clouds amassing together in the south. Rain was on the way. "Everything's changed now." Try as he might, he could not stop the slight quaver in his voice. Perhaps it was the after effects of the hangover messing with his head, but he felt more sensitive than usual.

"I know you and your father were close," Flint said softly.

"The day you left was the same day I learned about my father's ailing condition," Volkner replied, drawing in a deep breath to steady his voice. He remembered the event as if it had just happened yesterday. His father had taken him to the top of the lighthouse and told his son he had been diagnosed with a brain tumour. It was curable, but the man had decided he was sick and tired of fighting an uphill battle and chose to die.

"You are a coward!" Volkner accused, eyes stinging with tears. "You're just going to give up?! You told me you'd never stop fighting!"

His father looked at him with a calm expression. "You can't win every battle, Volkner."

Tears travelled down his cheeks. He wiped them away with the sleeve of his jacket and glared. "You're being selfish! Don't you care about the people who love you? They're going to suffer, but you don't care at all! You care so little about them you're just going giving up the fight!" He turned away from his father and raced down the steps of the lighthouse, not stopping once to answer the calls of his father.

"He gave up the fight," Volkner said softly, glancing down at his hands resting on his knees. "The one person who told me to never give up… gave up on life itself. What makes you think I care about being a gym leader? It means nothing to me, not anymore. Every time I walk into that gym I'm reminded of him. Do you know how that feels?" He was shaking now and unable to stop it. His position only reminded him of his father and his acceptance of defeat. He wanted to be free of that.

Flint shook his head. "No, I don't, but you can't continue travelling down this path, Volkner. Look at yourself – you've drunk so much you can hardly walk properly without assistance and don't even get me started on the troubles with the electricity in Sunyshore. You need to stop punishing yourself." He pointed to the vomit stains on Volkner's clothes. "It's only going to get much worse."

"Maybe it's what I deserve," Volkner said, trying to attempt some humour, but failed to hide the bitterness in his tone. "My mother has given up on me. Jasmine keeps turning me down. I run a gym where nothing of interest happens. My father couldn't practice what he preached. I come here to forget." It worked for a few hours, but then he had to face reality after he recovered. He'd come back for more the following day and the cycle would repeat. The cycle would only end when he decided he couldn't take it anymore.

Flint stared at him for a few moments longer and looked as though he wanted to say something, but never said anything. Instead, he lifted Volkner to his feet and slowly walked him towards Maylene's gym. "You are going to stay here for a couple of nights until I deem you are ready to return home." They continued walking down the cobbled path until they reached the entrance of the gym.

Volkner didn't want to go inside. If Maylene had called Flint for assistance then she must've been involved in whatever events had taken place the previous night. He doubted she'd be happy to see him on her doorstep considering his recent encounters with her had been less than pleasant. Flint knocked on the door. They waited for a couple of seconds when the door opened revealing Maylene with red eyes. Either she had been drinking as well or she had spent the night in tears.

"Come on in."

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Saturn laid out his blue sleeping bag on the floor and climbed inside. It was moments like these he hated being a Galactic commander because he often found himself in crappy situations like this. He had been camping in the outdoors for a number of weeks now waiting for his next order and began to wonder if Cyrus had forgotten about him. He hadn't heard from the man in weeks and his fellow commanders hadn't bothered to return his texts.

He was sick of the bugs crawling over his face at night. He was sick of watching Magikarp swimming around in circles in the lake and he was sick of lying down in a sleeping bag in the cold when he could be sleeping in a nice warm bed. A couple of nights was tolerable, but not weeks of this torture. It just had to be his luck he was the one who always ended up with the outdoors job.

To make matters worse, he had four grunts accompanying him and they were growing restless. A couple of nights ago, the grunts had tried to light a campfire and almost ended up setting their surrounding environment alight. Thankfully, Saturn had been able to control it before it had gotten out of hand, but now they had to sleep in the cold thanks to their stupidity. He couldn't trust the grunts to be in the presence of flames.

He pulled out his Xtransceiver from his pocket and scrolled through his list of contacts. He considered sending a text demanding information from his fellow commanders, but decided against it at the last moment. If they hadn't bothered to reply to his previous message why would they decide to change their minds now? It wasn't like them to ignore each other though and he assumed something significant must've happened.

He continued scrolling through until he reached the boss' number. To call or not to call, he thought. Calling seemed like a bad idea since the boss didn't like being called unless there was good news to report back and nothing of interest had happened since he had arrived here. Telling the boss the lake was a good place to go fishing for Magikarp didn't seem like a bright idea and the boss might dock his pay, but then again, the boss hadn't contacted him in weeks. "Oh what the heck," Saturn murmured, selecting the boss's number. "I have a right to know what's going on."

There was a ten second delay before the boss picked up. "Saturn."

"What's going on, boss? I've been down here at the lake for weeks now and you haven't told me anything! Were Mars and Jupiter successful? What am I doing at the lake anyway?" Saturn blurted out unable to stop himself. "Why haven't you told me anything? Did you forget about me?" Saturn heard the boss sigh and berated himself. The boss probably assumed he was jealous.

"I have sent down a bomb squad to meet you at Lake Valor."

Saturn's eyes widened. "Bomb squad?" That seemed a little intense even by the boss' standards.

"You are to capture the legendary Lake Guardian of Lake Valor. The bomb will force the creature out and then you will inject it with a specially made injection I have created. Is that understood, commander?"

Questions surfaced in Saturn's mind. Blowing up the lake could have catastrophic consequences on the environment. As much as he disliked the Magikarp, he didn't want the Pokemon to die. Why did the boss want to capture the Lake Guardian anyway? He didn't dare to ask though fearing Cyrus's wrath. "Understood, boss." No, he didn't understand, but he wanted to be a loyal worker.

Cyrus had given him an opportunity to showcase his skills after he was booted from college after failing to meet his financial obligations. Saturn had planned to take on a business management course as he intended to run his own business one day, but sadly he lacked the funds. Cyrus recruited him, promising Saturn his skills would not go to waste in Galactic, and Saturn swore an oath to serve.

If he had known his career would evolve blowing up lakes and killing Magikarp he would've refused, but there was no turning back now. Cyrus saw potential and agreed to pay him in exchange for loyalty and Saturn didn't want to disappoint. Sucking up to teachers in the pass didn't work, but it seemed to work here. As long as he remained on Cyrus's good side, he'd continue to act as a leader and be paid good money for it.

"The grunts will need protection. Distract the authorities patrolling the route to Lake Valor. Send one of the grunts to the Great Marsh in Pastoria City – he can act as a decoy to divert attention while you capture the Lake Guardian. You will return to headquarters immediately after capturing the legendary. Is that clear?"

This sounded like a recipe for disaster, Saturn thought, struggling to make sense of the proposed plan, but like the loyal commander he was, he agreed. "Understood, boss! I won't fail you!" Cyrus hung up and Saturn put his Xtransceiver away into his bag. He turned to his sleeping grunts and walked over to each grunt, giving them a good hard kick in the sides to wake them up.

"What's happening? Is it time to act?"

Saturn nodded. "The boss has a reward for the grunt who undertakes a dangerous mission," he said, keeping his face blank. The expressions on their faces brightened – who would turn down an opportunity to earn respect from the boss? "The bomb squad will arrive tomorrow and I'll need one of you to place a bomb in the Great Marsh to divert attention from our plans here. Which of you is brave enough to do this?" In other words, which grunt was foolish enough to risk their lives?

The thought of dying didn't seem to register with the grunts and Saturn could see why Cyrus had recruited them. They were so stupid they would consider jumping off a cliff as a smart method of eluding capture. Oh well, Saturn thought. Better them than me. They would die and he'd reap the rewards.

"Pick me!"

"No, pick me!"

"I'm the smartest one here!"

"No way, don't listen to them, Saturn. I'm the only one who can do this!"

The grunts were so eager to impress, Saturn considered sending them all to their deaths, but he would need at least three to remain behind to carry the Lake Guardian back to Veilstone City. "We're going to play a game," he started, bending over to pick up four twigs. He put the twigs behind his back, snapped one in half then brought them forward, covering the ends with his left hand. "Whoever draws the shortest stick will carry out the honour."

"I like games!" a grunt exclaimed.

"Me first!"

The grunts rushed forwards and eagerly selected a twig. Once the grunts had chosen one, Saturn gave them the order to show him their twigs. The grunt standing to the far right had the shortest one. He was grinning obviously pleased he had won the game. Saturn put on a fake smile and congratulated the soon to be dead grunt. "Well done! You will be the one to impress our boss. You'll want an early night because tomorrow is going to be the big day." And your last, Saturn thought dryly.

The other three grunts looked disappointed but retreated to their sleeping bags. One of the grunts was even crying much to Saturn's disbelief. He retreated to his sleeping bag and climbed in after swatting a few bugs away. One more night of this camping experience to endure and he knew it was one he was never going to forget. Tonight, he had given one of his grunts a death sentence.