A/N:

Fourth chapter's here! This one's a bit longer, but not quite as long as the first. Definitely hits up on much more character development, especially in terms of Samuel, and extends on a character from the games. This chapter sets the stage for one of the climaxes, as well as the increasing tensions between Michael and his pokémon. All I will say is to keep an eye out - things will heat up in time. Lotta new friends in this chapter.

Now, I do have a request for any of the readers who enjoy this story. I really do need help - I have little to no idea what I'm doing beside posting these chapters. I have no clue how to get familiar with the community, what I need to do with my profile - hell, I don't even know if I'm doing good with this story so far. I need some feedback from you guys. This story is a bit time consuming, so I want to make sure that it's being written well. By no means am I going to stop writing this story (got waaaaay too much invested in it), but I'd like readers to give me feedback on how I'm doing - good or bad.

Alright, disclaimer time. I by no means am affiliated with Nintendo, Game Freak, or Pokémon, nor do I own any of their characters. I simply own my OCs, nothing more. I also am not affiliated with any of the companies or products that I utilize in this story. That includes IWI, CZ, H&K, Smith & Wesson, Boeing, etc.

With all that outta the way, please enjoy reading, and please consider giving me some feedback.

"…" - Spoken dialogue

Italics - Michael's thoughts


"If you kill enough of them, they stop fighting."

-Curtis LeMay


Ch. 4 - Breaking the Walls Down

"At 5:00 in the morning, a takeover of the S.S. Vermilion was attempted by domestic terrorists. Once again, members of the Twenty-Fifth Reaper squad intervened, fighting them off and preventing the hijack." Zooming in, the camera caught a glimpse of Thomas carrying a LMG on his shoulder, setting it down while Kevin took the wheel. They sped away in their boat, becoming more distant from the cameras, though there never was much of a focus to begin with. Thomas flipped the channel - he was there; he didn't need to be informed of the events.

"Yeah, they're sleeping with the fish now," Kevin joked. "How'd it go for you guys?"

"Ours was a bust," Alex said. "Stayed up all night and didn't see a thing."

"That sucks," Thomas said. "What about you two?"

"Pretty well. Thwacked some poachers and freed the pokémon. Two of 'em actually decided to stay with us."

"Oh? What were they?"

"An arcanine and a vulpix. Don't know where the arcanine went, but the vulpix chose to stay with Samuel."

"Gettin' soft on us, Sam?" he joked. "I mean, of all pokémon, you decided to pick a vulpix?"

"Nothing wrong with that," Samuel replied. Oh look, he speaks…

"Never said there was, just saying it's… unlike you. If you were to get a pokémon, I'd've expected something like… well, a dark type, for instance."

"Well then I'm sorry to disappoint."

"Actually," Michael retorted, "you aren't wanting to talk, Thomas. What about your chikorita?"

"That's different - she'll evolve. She'll get bigger."

. . . . .

"Time for y'alls first stealth mission," Wesley said.

"Fun," Thomas sarcastically said. He was not built for stealth, being about as loud and destructive as a tank.

"Don't worry, I've taken your size into accountability for this particular mission. We leave in a week this time."

"Huh. You usually give the briefings closer to the date of the mission," Alex said. "What's up with this one?"

"This particular mission is going to require much more planning, and it'll be a hell of a lot harder than marching up to oblivious enemies and mowing them down."

"Fair enough. What're we doing?" Wesley pulled up a map on the display, which zoomed into a geographical view of Cinnabar Island. He circled the northwest outskirts of its largest city, calling attention to the abandoned mansion.

"We've traced several illegal weapon shipments to the so called 'abandoned mansion.' And take a look at this." He pulled up a satellite image of the building, and then switched to thermal satellite imagery. The building was radiating an awful lot of heat to be unoccupied. "Calling bullshit on abandoned."

"So we're going to investigate?" John asked.

"That's an understatement. There will be three teams again - two infiltration, one overwatch. Thomas, if you can guess, will be in overwatch, along with Samuel. The two of you will be sniping from the rooftops. Thomas, since you don't have as much experience in the field, you'll be closer. The rest of you will be scoping out the building, and looking for any servers. First team is Alex and Michael, second is John and Kevin. Each team will take one half of the building, scoping out the inside. I cannot begin to tell you how important it is that you four do not get caught. It is absolutely imperative, since you will not be armed for significant combat. No, all y'all are to do is gather intel and get the hell out."

"What equipment will we be using?" asked Thomas.

"Depends on your position. You snipers will be getting .338 Lapuas, albeit modified. You will be using slow, heavy rounds for lack of penetration, as well as silencers. Infiltrators, on the other hand, will be given silenced UMP-45s and USP-45s. Each infiltration group will have a designated technician - Kevin and Alex. You two will also receive an EMP jammer in order to navigate past any cameras, as well as an extraction drive. Plug that in to any servers, and it'll do all the work. Completely untraceable." He displayed a three-dimensional image of the structure. "Now that that's outta the way, here's what we know about the structure. There are three stories above, and two below. We know for sure that the first floor is mainly stairs, that the second is likely a bunch of rooms, and that the basements are probably generators and equipment."

"That's all you know about the building?" asked Michael.

"The building records are inconclusive. The thing's been remodeled countess times before it was truly abandoned, and it has been locked up tight for years. We don't even know how the hell they're getting into the place, but they are. Study up on these possible configurations over the next week," he said, handing them each a folder.

They addressed several other details about the mission, including how they would dispose of any bodies. "Just toss 'em out the windows. Most of 'em are broken out already, so you won't be making any noise. There will be support teams stationed outside that will get rid of the bodies quickly."

After a rather long hour, the six were dismissed, and none too soon. "Meet me back here in two days. I have someone I want y'all to meet." Not needing to be told twice, they left the room. A familiar vulpix was waiting outside by the door.

She trudged up alongside Samuel.

"Look who it is," John said. "What's her name?"

"My name is Nicole," she stated. "I've got a translator, y'know."

"Oh, sorry," he apologized. "Anyways, how're you getting along here?"

"Pretty good," she said. "The rooms are nice, and Sammy treats me well." That caught their attention.

"S-Sammy?" Kevin broke out into laughter at her name for her new trainer. He stopped, though, when an ember was shot at his feet.

"How rude! You ever make fun of my nickname for him again and I will burn you."

"Damn," Alex whispered to Michael, "little fucking badass right here."

. . . . .

"Oooh," Veronica moaned. "That's the spot." She stretched her wings further, giving Michael better access to her shoulders.

"I swear," he joked, "the things I do for you." She shot him a dismissive look.

"Hey, this is your doing - you're the one that wanted me to get military training." Deciding to get back at her, he massaged her collarbone, rubbing up into her neck. "Ahh - don't do that!"

"Do what?" he asked innocently, knowing full well how sensitive she was there. She glared at him, a prominent blush on her cheeks. "I'm gonna get you for that," she said.

"Somehow I doubt it."

"You better watch your back," she growled playfully.

. . . . .

The next day brought about perfect weather, sunny skies and warm temperatures. Elise had found this as the perfect opportunity to spend some alone time with Michael. She had recalled the presence of a river behind the base, slightly in the thin woods, and had inquired as to if they could go there. She had even, much to his humor, thrown out the idea of swimming. Figuring, though, that it was only fair that she get to choose their activities, he agreed, packing his swimsuit in his duffel bag, as well as some snacks as per her request. Her hyperactive demeanor was enjoyable to watch, and he had always loved to see her excited. Knowing that he could never be too safe, and partially due to the acquired feeling of vulnerability when unarmed, he also packed his revolver and dagger.

They departed from the base with special permission, and had quite a walk ahead of them. After about three miles, they found a spot that she had taken to, and settled down. The river coast had bordered the woods, being composed of small pebbles carried from upstream, which led from the mountains they could faintly see in the background. "This place is beautiful," she stated with beaming sapphire eyes.

"Gotta agree with you on that," he said, petting her side. "What do you wanna do now?"

"How about we just sit here for a bit?" She motioned to a boulder, slightly touched by the waters. "Catch up a little?"

"Of course." He sat with his back to the rock, and she lay across his lap belly-up. A sweet scent permeated the air, and he couldn't help but find himself attracted to it. Before he knew it, she was nuzzling into him furiously. "What's gotten into you girl?" he asked with a laugh, cupping her face.

"Nothing," she said innocently. "Nothing's gotten into me."

"Okay then…" He gave in, returning her affectionate gestures, which resulted in her nosing into his neck.

"How about those snacks?" she asked. He fished through the bag, setting aside the towels. A low growl gained his attention. A large mightyena emerged from the woods, six others behind it. They looked at each other and barked. He didn't know what they were saying, but he didn't like where this was going. The lead one growled at her, and she backed away.

"What did he say?" asked Michael.

"They want t-to…" she cast him a terrified glare.

"That's not gonna happen." With his hands still in the bag, he grabbed his revolver and pulled back the hammer. The lead mightyena stepped forth and bared its fangs, releasing an irritated snarl.

"He said that if I don't comply, they'll kill you." He looked frantically at each one of them, noticing an individual at the edge that was drawing particularly close to them. They were trying to surround them.

"Get ready to use ice shard," he whispered to Elise.

"O-okay…" she said nervously. The fear was obvious in her voice.

"Now!" he yelled, whipping out his 686 and aiming at the closest one. She obeyed, pelting them all with shards of ice. They flinched from her attack, but not as much as they did upon having heard the echoing gunshot. They looked to the side, gazing in horror at their fallen pack member. His nose was split open, a thick funnel cutting through to the other side of his skull. Elise jumped from the thunderous sound. Without giving them the chance to regain their senses, he shot another, shattering the shoulder blade and blowing through the chest cavity. He fell just as quickly as the other. Meanwhile, Elise had released an ice beam on a mightyena, freezing its feet into the ground. He barely had time to raise his weapon when he realized a mightyena lunging at him. Panicking, he shot twice. He missed altogether once, but hit it center mass the second time. He shoved it aside as it fell into him, finishing off his third. Elise was firing off as many ice shards as she could manage, keeping the aggressors somewhat at bay.

Then things took a turn for the worse. Before he could turn around, he was slammed from behind and sent straight to the ground. He rolled over and shot it straight through the jaw, penetrating through the roof of the mightyena's mouth. He was soon tackled by a fifth, and experienced what was likely the most excruciating pain of his life. The pokémon sank its large, sharp fangs into his left arm, pinning his other down with its clawed paw, drawing blood. "Fuck!" he yelled in pain. It had firmly locked its jaws inside of his flesh, carving through the muscle and close to the bone. Behind it, he could see Elise subdued, stumbling back, her hind leg hurt. The remaining two mightyenas were near her. One rammed into her harshly, sending her to the ground. Michael tilted his pinned hand towards it to get a shot. The other - the leader - made his way around her. He was nearly out of time. Hoping for the best, he took the shot. The one in front of her fell on its stomach - he had hit it in the spine, paralyzing it for good, likely to die soon. The mightyena on top of him batted the revolver aside and out of his reach, sinking its teeth even deeper, and shaking roughly back and forth. Tears welled up in his eyes from the sharp, throbbing pain in his arm. The sight of his blood seeping out, all over the pokémon's teeth and muzzle, sickened him, but not nearly as much as what he saw twenty feet away. The lead mightyena was forcibly mounting Elise, who was yipping in protest. His hardened member drew close to her hips. NO! His adrenaline surged more than it had ever done so before.

Desperate to do something, he kicked the one on him harshly in the gut, causing it to yelp, though still through jaws clenched around his arm. Its hold on his right arm released, and his hand darted out, grabbing the duffel bag, finding just what he needed. Swinging as hard as he could, he met almost no resistance as the blade went clean through the mightyena's neck and out the other side. He lunged up as quickly as he could, seeing the erected member nearly make contact with her nether region. Having no time, he did the only thing he could think of to stop the rape from occurring. He threw the blade.

He watched as it sailed through the air, rotating quickly, hoping that it met its mark. His prayers were answered as it contacted the lead mightyena's side and sunk in to the hilt, causing it to howl out in pain and fall back. He dashed up to the pokémon and grabbed the handle of the dagger. Instead of pulling it straight out, he pulled downwards, effectively ripping open its abdominal cavity and spilling its guts below it. With the blade free once more, he stabbed it in between the ribs, quickly killing the already dying canine.

He fell to the ground, sick to his stomach from the stench of the entrails and the pain in his arm. Speaking of his arm… Using his dagger, he pried the clenched jaws open, removing the still-stuck head of the mightyena that had failed in keeping him down. He quickly glanced at the damage. The teeth marks were perfectly imprinted in his arm, four on the left side, three on the right due to its placement on his wrist.

"Are…you…alright?" he gasped. He snatched up one of their towels, wrapped his arm tightly, and retrieved his revolver.

"I'm… fine," she said, still trembling. "M-my leg."

"Don't worry; I've got you," he replied. He took up the duffel bag, wanting nothing to do with swimming at the moment, and scooped her up in both arms. Though she was large, and it was painful to his throbbing arm, she was stable, and he could take the weight. Damn this would be a lot easier if I had her ball with me.

"Michael... your arm."

"I'll be okay girl."

"But… there's so much blood..." The towel had already adopted a crimson coloration all throughout.

"I'll be okay," he repeated, though unsure himself. Those were the longest miles he had ever travelled in his life. He increasingly had to fight from passing out, as the blood steadily dripped down from his arm, and even dampened the fur of the glaceon he was holding.

"Michael," she cried. "You're hurt... and I did it..."

"Don't you dare say that," he replied as the base came within view. "I got myself hurt. You did not."

"But if I didn't want to go out there in the first place…"

"There's no way you could've predicted something like that happening. It's not your fault. And besides - I put myself in danger."

"But—."

"I don't want to hear any more about his, alright?" His vision blurred, but he rounded the corner of the building. "Alright?" he asked again.

"O…okay…" One of the two guard metagrosses noticed him, sounding out a shrill alarm. He fell to his knees, having to set her down gently to the side to avoid collapsing on her.

. . . . .

The next scenes flashed by, quite literally, in the blink of an eye. He was passed out most of the time, but regained consciousness just long enough to witness the surrounding events - being rushed in on a stretcher, Elise being carried in by another soldier behind him, Veronica having to be restrained outside the medical room. Grace came in and placed an IV in his right arm, and stood over his torn left, her eyes glowing. Before he knew it, he was out again.

. . . . .

He woke up with a start, rapidly sitting up in the hospital bed. The tell-tale beeping of the heart monitor to his right served to remind him of why he was there in the first place. Looking at his left arm, he saw it neatly wrapped in bandages. The opening of the door caused him to divert his attention. "Glad to see you awake," Grace said.

"How long was I out?"

"Let's see… about ten days."

"What?!"

"Kidding, kidding," she laughed. "But seriously, you were out for some time. It's nearly 7:00, so that makes six hours.

"Great," he replied sarcastically. Suddenly he remembered something. "Oh shit, how is Elise?"

"She's fine - a little bit of a sprain. Nothing close to as serious as your injury."

"That's a relief," he replied. "Am I going to be okay?"

"You're already okay," she said. "Go on and take a look." With his other hand, he ripped part of it, unwrapping the rest. His arm looked as though nothing had happened.

"TMA?"

"Mhm. Did it myself. You ought to be more careful," she chastised.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said.

"I mean it," she said, stepping in front of him. "Your extensors were nearly shredded. It took me the better part of four hours to fix you up."

"And as I said before," he returned, "I will keep that in mind. Any concern for infection?"

"I'm not sure. Just to be safe, I want you to take these," she said, handing him a small bottle of pills. "One each morning, one at night - just to be on the safe side." He stood up, taking the taped IV out of his arm. Though he would never admit it to anyone, he absolutely dreaded needles. And wasn't much fonder of those small finger-pricks. "Other than that, you're good to go. Your stuff is in the drawer," she said, motioning to the stand beside the heart monitor. He retrieved it and hoisted the bag over his shoulder.

"Alright, thanks." He opened the door and was able to make a single, uninterrupted step outside. Veronica snatched him up like a rag doll, hugging him tightly.

"Shit," he gasped. She loosened her grasp.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm just so happy that you're alright." The commotion attracted the others, including a limping glaceon with a cast, as well as the Commander.

"Mind tellin' me how you just about booked yourself an overnight stay in the medical bay?" For the next few minutes, he recounted the event to him. Elise made sure to throw in the fact that he carried her the entire way back, with an injured arm. "I've got to say, son, I'm impressed. Taking on a small pack with nothing but a revolver - that's some skill right there."

"Well I did have help, y'know," he said, rubbing Elise's head. "If it wouldn't have been for her, I probably would've been swarmed."

"So I'm assuming that you're fit for duty, then?"

"Completely."

"Good - I can't afford not to have you on this upcoming mission."

That night, he stood over the bathtub, after bathing Elise, and scrubbed his dagger with steel wool. The dried blood was proving quite difficult to remove, but he was doing it slowly and surely. "Thank you," she said. He set his chore aside for the moment, turning to face her. "You really saved me back there."

"Elise, I would never let them hurt you, especially like that."

"You put your life on the line for me," she sniffed.

"What kind of a trainer would I be if I didn't? No matter what, I will fight to protect you girls - always remember that." Wordless, she embraced him in a feral hug and kissed him deeply on the cheek. He wrapped his arms around her. He lost count of how long they held each other, but he estimated it to be around five minutes.

"I love you so much," she whispered to him.

"I love you to, Elise." He didn't know why, but somehow, this embrace felt different from their past ones.

. . . . .

The next day, the six Reapers sat at a round table in the cafeteria, chatting amongst each other before they would have to go to the debriefing room.

"Hey, did you guys hear about the evolution stone crisis?" John asked. "Seems like it's gonna suck like hell for trainers. Or at least, anyone seriously into it."

"Yeah," Michael stated. "Saw it on the news the other day."

"Have you seen what the things are going for online? It's bullshit." Alex said.

"It's supply and demand," Michael countered. "Supply is low, but demand is as high as ever. It's fair marketing."

"You aren't disappointed about it?" John asked.

"Not at all - I'm selling, after all. I'll benefit majorly from the situation." This caught their attention.

"Wait just a second," Thomas said. "You mean to tell me that you actually have one?"

"Four," Michael corrected. "Water, fire, thunder, and a piece of moss rock, though that one probably won't be worth as much."

"Shit dude, you've stumbled across some luck. What are they selling for?"

"Somewhere north of Ᵽ25,000 each for the the elementals, and probably Ᵽ2,000-3,000 for the shard of moss rock. Bought them years ago when they weren't quite so expensive."

"Lucky bastard," Thomas said. He looked at his tactical watch, got up and took his tray. "Time to go fellas. No doubt the Commander will be expecting us in a few."

. . . . .

He had an average person's physique, being an even six feet tall and having a light brown crew cut. "Boys, this is Nathaniel Shepherd, colonel of the CIC around these parts. His forces will provide essential backup to many of your missions."

"Nice to see you've got yourself a new team Wes," he commented. "Hopefully you won't ride these kids into the dirt."

"He's kidding," Wesley said, though with a slight chuckle. "Nate and I go way back. We were both in the first squad."

"Really? You were a Reaper too?" asked Michael.

"Yep, back before any of you were born."

"What caused you to join up with the Kanto military?" asked Alex.

"The right person," he replied, "but perhaps we'll talk about that another time. Right now, though, we have other matters to discuss. For starters, what do y'all know about the CIC?"

"You guys are a counterterrorism organization, right?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah, but that's just part of it. We run spec ops, reconnaissance, and infiltrations - much like you guys. On the other hand, the six of you are better trained than most CIC personnel. But where you all have quality, we have quantity."

"That's why the two units work so well together," Wesley commented.

"So when can we expect to collaborate?" Alex asked.

"If I'm not mistaken, on your next mission." He turned to Wesley. "Cinnabar is y'all's next stop, right?"

"Yep," he said, giving him a short, conformational nod.

"Well then, you can expect us there. We'll be ready gettin' rid of the bodies, and to storm the building in the case that y'all fuck everything up." Glad to see he's so confident in us… "But I'm sure you boys will be just fine."

. . . . .

"Do you have to go for so long?" Charlotte asked, clearly disappointed. "I mean, three days?"

"You know I do," he replied, holding her paw gently. He kissed it, trying to reassure her, but somehow succeeded in making her blush.

"Will it be dangerous?" she asked.

"It always is."

"More so than usual?" she added.

"To tell you the truth, yeah - it will be. We've never done anything like this before. We're going straight into the lair of the beast. But y'know what? I think everything's gonna be just fine." She looked up at him through tearful eyes.

"How can you be so sure?" she sniffed. "I mean, do you think that we aren't terrified? Every day you go out there, we're scared - wondering if the next time we see you it'll be in a body bag!" By now, the tears were streaming, and she couldn't control it. He knelt down and hugged her, giving her as much comfort as he could. He gave her a small peck on the tip of her nose.

"I get worried too, Char - worried that each time may be the last time I see you all. I'm far from invincible - as you just saw. But whenever I feel uneasy or nervous out there, I think of you all; think about how much I want to return to the four of you. That alone gives me a reason to fight." She was sobbing into his shirt.

"Please," she said between sobs. "Please promise me that you'll be okay."

"You know I will."

. . . . .

"Piece of fucking shit!" Alex yelled, throwing the tent pole to the ground, hearing it snap out of structure, collapsing the tent that he almost had partially up.

"Alex, language," Michael joked.

"Hey," Alex pointed to him. "Fuck off."

"What did I do?" Michael asked, raising his hands.

"How about you help instead of standing there being useless?"

"I've already set mine up," he said, pointing to his expertly erected tent.

"Yeah, because you've been doing it for years, Ranger Rick. Now give me a hand." Laughing on the inside, Michael assisted him, and before long, had the tent set up perfectly.

"See Alex? It isn't that difficult."

"Shut the hell up."

They were setting up base camp on a nearby island, though it was still well out of sight of Cinnabar. The next morning they were to travel to the main island and set up for the night's mission. There were nearly two hundred members of the CIC accompanying them - Nate really wasn't kidding when he said they'd provide support.

. . . . .

Thomas and Samuel took their positions on top of the buildings - both on the roofs of a nearby apartment complex. The other four, with night vision on, had snuck into the premises by cutting the fence in the back corner. No guards or cameras were on the outside, as such security measures wouldn't support the idea of abandonment.

"Slip in the windows," Wesley advised. Michael and Alex, going left, separated from John and Kevin, each taking one side of the building. Michael peaked up into the dark building, and seeing no one straight ahead of him, hoisted himself in… right in front of a patrolling enemy. Before he could utter a sound, Michael withdrew his suppressed USP and shot him in the head.

"Higgs, that was way too fucking close," Wesley said. "Are you trying to fuck up this mission?"

"All that matters is I got him," Michael said, grabbing the dead man's body and forcing him out the window, nearly hitting Alex. "And no, it is not within my intentions to sabotage the mission." He held out a hand for Alex, pulling him up through the glassless window. They hid between the pillars to minimize their visibility, looking around the first floor. It was almost exactly as they had expected, having a long corridor in front of them, which opened out and lead to a flight of stairs straight ahead. A wall lay to their right, preventing them from being able to view the other side of the mansion. They kept to the wall, up until they needed to make a break for the stairs. Alex peaked around the corner, and held his hand up in a halting signal. A flashlight beam approached, controlled by a fully armed guard who was intending to pass by towards the left entrance. Not giving him the chance, Michael shot him in the side of the head as he passed by, and tossed him out the window much like he had the first. However, the body of the first enemy was gone.

"Y'know, the point of this is to avoid as much confrontation as possible…"

"And I am, Commander - by eliminating the threat now, I can ensure that we don't have to confront him later." He could almost sense Kevin stifling a laugh.

"Smartass." Good to go, they crept towards the stairs. Taking an experimental step, he found, thankfully, that it didn't really creak. Maybe it was due to the nature of their specially-designed boots, but it was something that they were grateful for all the same. They made their way up the steps, looking expectantly towards the top doorway for someone to come through. After a moment of nothing happening, they went through. Incoming chatter alerted them to the approaching guards.

"I've got the left, you get right," Michael said. They hid behind the piles of debris scattered about, crouched and aiming with their pistols. Once the two emerged, they dropped both of them. They lunged forth and caught the two before they could hit the ground and make a noise.

"At this rate, you two are gonna clear out the building."

"Fine by me," Alex stated. The second story was full of slim hallways, dividing the floor into dozens of rooms, some with metal shutters pulled down.

"This is definitely new equipment," Alex said. "They've been busy with the place."

"We've just entered the second basement," John said. "Think we've found how they're getting in unnoticed."

"A submarine bay," Wesley said. "And twenty feet below. We'll need to check around the premises."

"What's that?" Kevin asked. The two were silent for a moment, before speaking up again.

"Commander, are you seeing this?"

"Yeah… that can't be good."

"What is it?" Thomas asked.

"Team Plasma…" John said.

"Just what we needed, too," Wesley muttered. "Those assholes gave us so much trouble back when I was in the squad."

Michael and Alex continued along the backside of the building - the side that faced north - and neared the corner. Now within range, Thomas's position popped up on their radars.

"Hey, just received your location, Thomas," Michael said.

"Yeah, I see ya," he replied. "A guard's about to round the corner. I'd shoot him, but there's a camera."

"Alright, thanks." Michael braced himself, flattening against the wall. Alex kept watch behind them, lest they be caught by surprise. The light grew closer, its carrier nearly rounding the corner. He couldn't straight up shoot this one - he was right in front of one of the few fixed windows of the building. A bullet would surely break it and create noise. Instead, he knelt down, aiming upwards, and capped him as he rounded. "Here," he said, handing the body to Alex, "take this."

"The fuck am I supposed to do with it?"

"I dunno, just get rid of it." Michael peaked around, hugging the corner, while Alex dragged the body back through the hallway to an open window.

"Do you see the camera?" Alex asked, grunting.

"Yeah, west wall, facing our direction, but not quite. Get ready to use the jammer."

"On it." Alex pulled out the EMP jammer and fiddled with it a bit, slipping around and pointing it at the camera. "It's down - hurry!" They ran straight by the camera towards the end of the hallway.

"Anyone around this side?" Michael asked Samuel, who was positioned south of the building.

"Pair of guards in the middle. Not movin', though - and a camera at the other end, pointing southwest."

"Keep the jammer out." Michael holstered his pistol, switching to his UMP-45.

"Dude, you can't be serious."

"I'm completely serious," he said, flipping the safety off of his SMG. He flipped around the corner, taking aim at the guards quickly, and sprayed them both at their heads and necks, before dashing out to quickly dispose of the evidence. Alex disabled the camera, allowing Michael to safely throw them out of the window without being seen. The room right before the camera was open, and so to avoid circling back to where they started, they went through. A shorter hallway, this one had a set of stairs on the left side, bending northward to set it in line with the west-most side of the building. To their right, they could hear several conversations at once.

"Take it slow," Wesley said. "Wouldn't want to fuck up there." The duo kept to the left side, eagerly watching the doorway as they crept towards the end. The sheer noise level was enough to mask the presence of the Reapers, who slipped by quickly.

"There ain't shit on this floor," John said. "If there's anything to find, it's your way, guys. We're on our way back up."

"Alright. We're going up to the third floor now," Michael said. He and Alex went up, carefully aiming ahead. One was propped up against the rail at the top of the stairs. He soon fell, but not due to losing balance. Michael hoisted him out the window, and they continued.

The top floor looked vastly different from the previous. There was only a large, central room, surrounded by hallways on three of the four sides - all but the north. No entrance on this side, but there was a camera. "Alex."

"On it." After setting it on a temporary loop, they hid directly under it and hugged the wall. "Samuel," Alex asked, "what's it like around the corner?"

"Two guards, each side of the entrance." Michael pulled out his UMP-45, flipped around, and emptied the rest of the clip into both of them. The duo ran forth and got rid of the two bodies. Through the front entrance, they could catch a view of the inside, or at least, part of it. The room was full of computers, some on, some off, on several large desks. One of them displayed the camera feed in several gridded squares. No one was seated in front of it.

"You mean to tell me they weren't even paying attention to the cameras?" Alex said. "Wow, nice to see all that work was for nothing." To the right was the other entrance - the side one. They could hear voices to their left.

"Go 'round to the other door - you'll get a better view of the inside."

"How's it look over there, Thomas?"

"Good to go." They headed around, peaking inside. At the other end of the room was a large, round table, having ten seated. Thankfully, those seated were more concerned with their gambling than keeping the place secure. A large gun rack lay to the right of the table, while a pair of crates lay to the left. On top of one was an AGS-30 grenade launcher. They went prone, edging up to the nearest desk. Towards the back was a large shelf.

"There we are," Wesley said. "Alex, see if you can slip over there and download." Alex slowly but surely crawled over to the servers, having to hide around the other side. He slipped the extraction drive in quickly, taking cover behind the shelf itself. A climbing percentage appeared at the bottom of all of their displays. Around five minutes, and they could head out of there.

"Good, now get down and be quiet." Michael took his place under the desk, the camera monitor over him. Alex was back up against the wall, crouching behind the shelf. The only sounds present in the room were those of the enemies, throwing down cards and drinking.

"Alright," one of them said, getting up, "be right back; gotta take a piss." He took his half empty beer with him.

"Bring Dwight up on your way back." Four minutes left. He left, going out the front entrance and into the hallway. Michael got an idea.

"Commander, you think we could use the camera data?" he asked, motioning to the computer's system unit beside him.

"Now that you mention it… that could be really useful. We could run the footage and get info on who's been in and out." Michael silently unscrewed the side panel, fishing through the system's wires and components until he found the hard disk drive. With three minutes left, they would likely be out of there before anyone came to the computer, so he snapped it out, pocketing it, and placing the panel back over the system unit. Almost a minute later, the man who had left had returned with another.

"Got 'em," he said.

"Did you pick up the payment?" another asked.

"No," Dwight replied. "They wouldn't pay up."

"Really? Then we'll just have to pay 'em a visit. Put the little shits in their place."

"Agreed. Speaking of people being put in their place, where the hell are all the guards? Can't seem to see anyone on patrol. You know what the boss said."

"They should be out there. Go check the schedules. See who's on duty." Dwight turned and was about to leave. With only a minute left, their worst fears came true - gunfire.

"What the hell?!" The men sprung up, ready to take arms and defend their base. Both Michael and Alex peaked around their cover with their UMPs, spraying them all down, aiming at head level.

"Shit!" Kevin yelled. "They found us!"

"What the fuck happened?" Michael asked.

"Kevin failed to kill a guard," Wesley said. "He managed to squeeze off a few shots. Stay alert!"

"Just what we needed," Alex muttered. The stampeding through the halls could be heard throughout the building.

"That place is swarming!" Wesley said. "Michael and Alex, get ready for a fight!" The download was almost finished, with twenty seconds left, when they started coming. Bodies could be heard falling in hallway near the front entrance. "Keep it up, you two!" Wesley said. Samuel and Thomas were doing their part to trim down the numbers. Once the first group had entered into the room, the download had been completed, the driver taken, and desks flipped for cover. The two inside sprayed them down, felling them at the doorways.

Within a moment, the entire premises had been thrust into chaos. "CIC is sending backup! Everyone hold your positions for a few more minutes!" Just as he had said, CIC members were storming the premises, engaged in firefights with enemies in the windows and on the ground.

"Shit! They're coming in to y'all's left!" Thomas said.

"Great, so there's stairs there too?" Michael shot an incoming enemy as he rounded, making him collapse on the spot. "We're gonna have to use what's here," Michael said. "I'm all out!" He rushed to the gun rack, snatching up an M249 and the large ammo belt that went with it. He tossed Alex two AK-47s. He set it on the edge of the flipped desk in order to steady the large machine gun better.

"Comin' on both sides!"

"Alex, you get the front!" With his setup, Michael had a perfect shot at anyone who dared to peak around the side entrance. If an enemy charged in, they'd get mowed down. If they stood outside the doorway and tried to shoot around the corner, they'd get sniped. The system worked until they, quite literally, got swarmed.

"Up front!" Samuel yelled. Michael took the LMG, stood up, and fired at the horde of enemies. Not stopping until the belt was depleted, he piled enemies on top of each other.

"We're cornered!" John said. "Almost out, and—." He cut himself off, yelling in pain. A loud thwack sounded; he said no more.

"John!" Wesley yelled.

"Oh fuck!" Kevin cried. "He's hit! John's hit real bad."

"Bide your time! They're on their way in!"

"We don't have time!" Kevin yelled. "I'm down to his ammo!"

"Alex, we need to get down there right now! We can't wait on the CIC to show up."

"In case you haven't noticed, we aren't too well off either." True, they had used up just about all of the reserved weapons in the gun rack. All they had left was a nearly-empty AK and their pistols. Michael scanned the room, looking for a way out of all of this, and paused. There was one way… if it would work. He ran to the crates and picked up the grenade launcher. It was heavy; it was originally made to put on top of vehicles, but light enough for a man to carry and use effectively. He opened the crate, seeing a variety of explosives, and several clusters of grenades. There's gotta be ammo around here somewhere… there! He fished out the grenades - a belt of thirty, and clipped them into place.

"Do you even know how to use that thing?" Alex asked.

"We'll find out - and besides, not like we've got much of an option." Michael also grabbed two clusters of grenades, tossing them to Alex, and an incendiary grenade. "Alex, drop those behind us every few seconds."

"What the hell do you have in mind?"

"Bustin' out of here - that's what." Pulling the pin, he tossed the incendiary around the corner of the front entrance.

"Get back!" a voice yelled. Hearing screams of pain, and seeing the illumination caused by the spread of the flames, Michael assumed that he had hit his targets.

"Come on!" Michael darted through the side entrance. At the end of the hallway, he could see the stairs, as well as a small group of incoming enemies. Hoping that it would work, he double-tapped the trigger. Two grenades impacted two different enemies directly. The explosions shredded them apart before any of them could fire a single shot. Michael didn't even stop.

"Shit! I'm out!" Kevin yelled. "They're coming. I don't think… we're making it out of this one, guys." Michael blew through another enemy, shattering the nearby window pane and cracking the old hardwood floor. The proximity display showed that John and Kevin where directly in front of them, or at least in two-dimensional coordinates. In reality, the two were on different floors. Michael shot a pair that had rounded the corner, shooting at him. A bullet nicked his arm, not penetrating, but still drawing a thin line of blood. He could hear the yelling and stampeding downstairs, so, in haste, he did the only thing he could think of - he shot the floor in front of him. With seven shots, the old structure gave way, leaving a large, gaping hole in the floor. The scene lay perfectly situated in front of him: Kevin holding his blood-soaked dagger and standing in front of John's unconscious body, over a dozen enemies outside the doorway to the room, one hauling back to throw a grenade in there. He never gave them the chance.

Their last sights must have been the flames of the explosions, their last sounds the deafening concussion waves. He jumped down, the belt almost empty. An enemy staggered up to him, his right arm messily blown off, ears bleeding. He slammed the heavy weapon into his face, making him drop on the spot and move no more. He ran up to his two vulnerable comrades. Everyone seemed speechless at what they had seen. "No time to waste," Michael said. "We gotta get him the hell outta here!" He handed the launcher to Kevin, who took it, still incredulous at the previous events. Micheal grabbed John and hoisted him over his shoulder, withdrawing his USP-45 as his only available weapon. "You two cover me!" The three of them made a dash around the corner and towards the front entrance. Kevin shot a few grenades ahead of him to clear the path of enemies. As they neared the entrance, a few individuals, dressed differently and armed with P-90 submachine guns, stopped them. Michael raised a pistol to the head of one of them.

"Woah woah woah, we're on your side!"

"What?" Michael asked in an unconvinced tone.

"CIC close-quarters specialist unit. We're here to provide backup!"

"Alright," Michael said, lowering the handgun. "C'mon, guys - we need to get John to the medic, now!" They ran forth, through the wreckage of the recently destroyed gate.

"We're coming in for a landing at you," Wesley said. The lights of the Chinook permeated the night sky. The inhabitants of the island were watching the war zone before them with great interest and horror. As soon as it landed, they rushed in. Grace and Sebastian were in front of one of the outstretched cots, ready.

. . . . .

His visor had been cracked. That, as well as a broken nose, made it evident that he had been hit hard, likely with the butt of a rifle. Three bullets had to be extracted from him. The first had been no big deal; going at an awkward angle, it had been caught slightly inside the suit, boring itself into the side of his left leg a quarter of an inch. The second, above the first, had been similar, entering above his knee, stuck between the tendons and his femur. The third, however, had given reason to their concern. It was inside his abdominal cavity, stuck between his intestines. "He's lucky that his suit absorbed most of the impact," Sebastian said, motioning to the crater in the kevlar fabric. "Had it not, the bullet would've gone through to his kidney. He would have bled out before you got him here."

"And they're both lucky that help arrived in the first place," Wesley said. "I… I don't think I've ever seen anything like that, even in all my years."

"…Thank you, Michael," Kevin mumbled. "Had I not been so careless, we wouldn't have been in that situation to begin with. Thanks for getting us outta it."

"It was luck," he responded. "Everything lined up just right. But anytime." The five of them had been so restless, eagerly watching the operation on their comrade, that they had not sat down, nor had removed their gear. Now that everything was okay, they proceeded in doing so. First, though, Michael and Alex walked up to Wesley.

"Here's the drive," Alex said, handing the extraction drive to the Commander, before walking back to the back of the plane, where they store their suits.

"And here's the camera footage," Michael said, slipping the hard disk out of his side pocket. Before he could turn around, though, Wesley stopped him.

"One more thing, Higgs, if you would."

"Yes?"

"I'd like to see your mask." What? Why? Confused but compliant, Michael removed his mask and gave it to the Commander. His face had been drenched with sweat, though it had significantly dried up. "Thank you. That was one hell of a stunt you pulled back there."

"Just doing what you all trained me to do," he replied.

"Maybe. But it looked impossible. This footage will need to be reviewed."

. . . . .

Finally, they landed back at base. Grace sealed up the shallow wound that Michael had on his arm. You aren't invincible, Veronica's words echoed through his mind. Of course, it had been something that he'd known, but having a physical reminder was something else. A few inches over and the bullet could've hit his chest. "You boys sit this week out. You deserve some rest after all that." As he went back to his quarters, sleep was the only thing on Micael's mind. Well, that, and a warm shower. "Michael's home!" Elise shrieked, running up to him. It wasn't long before the others were there too.

"Oh thank Arceus," Layla moaned, hugging him.

"Told ya I'd be okay," he said, ruffling her hair.

He remembered little of what happened after that. He got out the shower, barely conscious, dried himself off and brushed his teeth, and slipped on a pair of briefs. The next thing he knew, he was under Veronica's wing, in the bed. Later, he would find out that he had passed out on the bathroom floor. "Go back to sleep," Veronica said as he lazily shuffled, confused as to what had happened and how he had gotten there. "You need it."

. . . . .

He picked himself off of the ground for what must've been the tenth time. Layla had won again. "You really don't give up, do you?" she asked.

"No, no I don't," he grunted. "Before I leave this room, I will beat you."

"Fat chance," she laughed. "But I welcome you to try." The two squared up again, taking their stances. He watched every movement that she made. Whenever she was about to attack, he noticed, her ear twitched ever so slightly. Seeing the cue, he prepared to defend himself.

Layla threw a hook at his face, but he had been expecting such a move. He blocked it with his right arm, returning a strike of his own towards her right side, which was now unguarded. She lurched forth, but before he could attempt any further attacks, she gave him a powerful kick to the chest, making him stumble back to the ropes. He sprung off of the ropes, using them to propel himself forward, and ran towards her once more. He was stopped with a harsh jab to the ribs, stopping him in his tracks, and taking a great deal of air out of his lungs. Michael got his opportunity, though, when she attempted another kick, this one to his side.

Instead of getting hit like he had previously, he grabbed her leg. While he had her temporarily unbalanced, he swept her other from underneath her, making her fall to the ground. Before she could move, he jumped on top of her, pinning her down. "Got you now!" he said, beaming that he finally defeated her.

"You better get off of me like this. People might think that we're engaged in other activities." That definitely made him get up.

"Layla…" She giggled in response.

"I was only teasing you. Don't take it so seriously."

. . . . .

"I don't understand why someone would do this to themselves," Charlotte said.

A knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Michael said, not getting up from the table. John walked in, having been released from the medical center. He looked exhausted, but was walking without any trouble. "Hey, good to see you up and about again."

"Yeah. That TMA shit really takes a toll on ya."

"It is pretty rough on the body," Michael admitted, "but better than waiting for everything to naturally heal." He set his papers aside, but John caught a glimpse at them.

"What the hell is that?"

"My old biochem notes. Looking over them a bit to keep my memory fresh." John looked like he was trying to stifle a laugh.

"You're kinda a nerd, y'know that?"

"He really is," Charlotte joked, earning a playful glare from her trainer.

"I've been told that before, yes. What's up?"

"Just wanted to come and thank you for everything yesterday." He felt, rather than saw, Charlotte perk up.

"Really? What happened?" Michael simply shrugged.

"Didn't really think it was that big of a deal. I'm sure the time'll come when someone will save my ass."

"Maybe," John said, "Anyways, also came to tell you that Samuel wanted to talk to you." That surely caught him by surprise.

"Samuel? Wanting to talk? Bullshit."

"That's what I thought. But seriously, though, he mentioned it."

"Alright," he sighed. "When did he want to see me?"

"Today for lunch."

. . . . .

That definitely started out as the most awkward meal he had ever had. Charlotte accompanied him, as it was her "day." Their lunch started out in complete silence, the only noises being that of their silverware scraping against the plates. Finally, after thirty minutes - well after everyone had finished eating - Michael was unable to take it any longer, and broke the silence. "Alright, is something wrong?"

"What?"

"You called me over to talk, yet you're completely silent…"

"It's just… hard finding the right words," he replied.

"You're talking like this is a formal meeting or something."

"It could be considered that." Well, maybe so - considering that you never freaking speak!

"Go on and lay it on me."

"A… alright," he stammered. "I guess the only way to put it is that I need a favor." Woah, he's probably taking a blow to his pride…

"A favor?" Michael questioned. Charlotte looked puzzled as well. "What kind of a favor?"

"I want to finance something of yours…"

"Finance?" he asked. "The hell are you talking about?"

"The fire stone." Oh, that's right - Nicole can evolve into a ninetales…

"For Nicole, right?" Samuel nodded.

"I've wanted to get her something special ever since we partnered up, and I thought that a fire stone would be a great idea. She's always talking about how beautiful ninetales are, and how she can't wait to evolve into one. Problem is… those stones cost a fucking fortune."

"Yeah," Michael said. "The supply's dropped like crazy since the shortage."

"And you even said so yourself - the prices are only gonna get worse and worse. So I wanted to buy yours from you. I won't be able to pay for all of it at once, so that's why I was looking into a financing deal with you."

"I see." Michael finished off his tea, setting the empty glass to the side.

"So would you consider it?" Samuel asked.

"No," Michael said. Charlotte looked at him confusedly, but he continued. "I'm not going to sell you the stone."

"You won't?"

"No," he repeated, "I'm not about to profit off of you."

"What do you mean?"

"I won't sell it to you, but I'll give it to you." For a moment, Samuel said nothing, likely trying to process what had just been said.

"Why?"

"Because, you could use it. I have no use for it."

"You could make a lot of money from it."

"Maybe," Michael admitted. "But the fact stands that you could use it; I can't. I'm not going to use that and capitalize upon the current situation."

"But why?" he repeated.

"Well, you're my friend, that's why."

"…You know nothing about me," Samuel said.

"And yet we completely trust each other with our lives - weird, isn't it? Look, all of us would like for you to open up a bit more, but you do that on your own time. Just know that whenever you're ready to talk, I'm here to listen." He stood up, taking his and Charlotte's trays over to the counter, before coming back to the table. "Follow me back - the stone's at my place."

Minutes later, he stood outside his door, fire stone in hand. "Don't even let her get near the thing until she's ready," Michael advised. "Believe me, it's instant."

"I'll keep that in mind," Samuel said. "I can't thank you enough for this…"

"You don't need to thank me at all. Just treat her well, okay?"

"Alright." Samuel turned to walk away, heading to his quarters, but stopped. "Do you really wanna know?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to know? About my past?" Samuel asked.

"Of course, but only if you're comfortable talking about it."

"Come by my place tomorrow night. Then we'll talk."

. . . . .

The fire stone lay on the top of the mantle, well out of Nicole's reach. No accidents. They sat on opposite ends of the couch, the vulpix curled up on his lap, attentive to their conversation. "Not really sure how to start all this…"

"Take your time." Samuel nodded, still clearly unsure of how to proceed.

"Let's see… I guess it would help to know a bit of my background, wouldn't it?"

"That'd probably make things clearer."

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, looking down at Nicole, who gave him a nod.

"Go on, Sammy - if you tell others, you won't have to keep it all bottled up."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said. He collected his thoughts, looked at her, then Michael, and began his recollections. "I grew up under a collapsing roof with three siblings. One of those 'untouchable' corners of Azalea, y'know? Shitty community - always voted for those politicians that promised more welfare benefits. Whenever they won, all that money went straight to their pockets."

"That's pretty much always how it works," Michael said. "Trust me, them and Kalosian politicians are one and the same. Only difference is that they give out money that the country doesn't have, or whatever they could steal from the rich. Convey themselves as the 'modern day Robin Hoods,' but they're nothing more than crooks. Steal from the rich to give to themselves."

"Exactly. We hardly ever saw mom, because she had to work two or three jobs at any given time. Can safely say we all wished that we saw dad a whole lot less."

"Don't tell me…"

"Real piece of shit. And pious - Arceus he was pious as hell. Put on the whole Sunday vest and talked the talk for one damn day out of the week. In reality, he was nothing but a worthless drunk. During his worst episodes, he'd become abusive. No one wanted to be around at that time, even if it meant sleeping outside of the house."

"Special place in hell for any man that beats his wife and kids," Michael said.

"I'd say so. I remember this one time, he pulled in to the driveway, if you could even call it that, and somehow or another Hailey managed to put a scratch of his car. Children were wearing hand-me-downs, all malnourished, but he was gonna have that fucking convertible. It was barely visible, too. He held her down and broke her arm for that."

"Son of a bitch," Michael muttered.

"Then one day, he did both the best and worst thing for our family."

"What would that be?"

"Got drunk one day; wrapped his car around a tree off the highway going eighty. Only mom went to his funeral," he said.

"Gee, I wonder why."

"Well, with him outta the way, we didn't have to worry about bruises or broken bones, but his death definitely brought new problems. Even with mom working herself to death, food was hard to put on the table." Samuel was running his fingers through Nicole's fur, but her eyes shone with sadness at his backstory. Michael didn't know what to say; he couldn't empathize with any of this. All of his upbringing had been under more privileged standards.

"So what happened at that point?" Michael finally asked.

"Mom sold a whole bunch of shit to keep us alive for a few more weeks. The first to go were the wedding bands. I was able to convince her to buy a used .30-06 rifle. I was gonna try and make sure we didn't starve."

"So I'm guessing hunting is where your accuracy can from."

"Money was scarce - couldn't afford to miss much. A box of bullets had to last for months."

"Please tell me you didn't hunt any pokémon…"

"Hell no - only regular animals. Mostly deer. Would never have done something like that," he replied.

"Thank Arceus," Nicole said, looking up at him.

"No," he said, ruffling her hair. "I'm a lot of things, but a murderer ain't one of them."

"Pretty good at it, though, right?"

"Kept us from starving. Or at least until Mom died. After that…" he paused for a moment. "One of my two younger brothers killed himself, and the other two had to go live with our aunt. By that point, I was already seventeen, so I joined the armed forces. They'd take care of someone that practically flunked out of school. I'd already been through hell, and I knew my way around a rifle. After two years in the army, I moved up north to join the Reapers. That's how I got here." For a moment, Michael tried to take it all in. No wonder Samuel kept so much to himself - he had had an incredibly rough past.

"Look man, I'm not going to pretend to understand what you went through - I can't. But I'm sorry you had to go through all that."

"In a way, I'm not," he sighed. "It made me who I am." He looked down at the vulpix in his lap.

"And I wouldn't trade that for anything," Nicole said, rubbing up against him.

. . . . .

Michael walked into Wesley's office, closing the door behind him. "You wanted to see me?" he asked, turning around. Nathaniel was also there, seated on the other side of the desk.

"Yes, sit down." Michael took a seat, curious as to why he was called into there at 8:00 at night. "Your performance last week was unlike anything I've ever seen before," Nate said.

"I'm guessing you went over the footage then," Michael stated.

"Yep, me and my boss." His boss?

"I probably should have told you, son," Wesley said, "I passed the film around to a few people. Hope you don't mind."

"…No, I don't. Just didn't know that it would've been this big of a deal."

"Well it is," Nate commented. "The only person I answer to is the founder of the CIC himself."

"What?"

"It's true. Your capabilities have piqued his interests," Wesley said. "That's what this is about. Tomorrow, I'd like for you to meet him. He may have need for your skills in an upcoming mission."

"My skills? What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure I understand your confusion," Wesley asked, puzzled.

"I mean, what makes 'my skills' so different from the others? We all have the same training, and we're all equally competent." Nate looked aside to Wesley and just shook his head.

"Honestly? Yeah, each and every one of you is capable of doing pretty much the same things. But being capable of something and actually doing it in the field are two completely different matters entirely."

"At that moment," Wesley added, "I was fully expecting to bury two of my Reapers."

"I just did what I was trained to do."

"You did more than that. That's why I think you should meet with him."

"So what will you do?" asked Nate. He thought it over to himself. It would only be fair, he decided, to meet with the guy. He had taken an interest in him, so it would be rude to ignore his respect.

"Alright, I'll meet with him. What time do I leave?"

"Six in the morning." Shit.

. . . . .

He lazily flipped through the channels, Elise curled up against him. Ever since she had almost been raped, she had kept to his side as much as possible. He absentmindedly rubbed her neck. She licked his cheek, peaking up to obstruct his view. "Hey," he teased, "I was watching that."

"C'mon, go to sleep. This won't help you get up early tomorrow."

"Alright," he relented, switching off the television. She hugged him tightly, nuzzling his face. She stopped when her muzzle had briefly brushed against his mouth, then refrained from the action anymore.

. . . . .

The ride there was fairly uneventful, an occasional joke or two from Nathaniel. His shock came, however, when they landed four miles north of the Indigo Plateau. Stepping out, their position near the edge of a mountainside cliff, he could still easily see the League building. The trainers that had crushed them all those years ago… "C'mon, this way." Michael turned his back to the League, following Nate to the opening in the side of the stony wall. Much like the Johto northern army base, only much smaller.

"Definitely see the Johtonian influence here," Michael commented.

"We had a say in where the CIC set up shop," Nate replied. "Mountains are secure; hard to bomb, and even harder to invade." They walked through, took a left, and boarded an elevator at the end of the hall. With seven stories below, Nate hit the button towards the very bottom. "Alright, I do need to give you a… heads up about the boss."

"Something wrong?"

"No," Nate said, "nothing's wrong with him, or at least now. He just isn't exactly who you'd expect. Listen, whatever your initial impressions are, please just hear him out. Give him a chance, alright?"

"O-okay." They stepped off the elevator, approaching a barred gate, which was opened upon their arrival. Another left, and they came up to a door, guarded by four CIC members, wearing their traditional attire of dark green berets and uniforms. One nodded, opening the door for him. Nate stopped in his tracks. "You aren't coming with me?"

"I see him every day. But he wanted to meet with you alone." Figuring that there was nothing else to do, he walked through the entrance, hearing the door close behind him.

He was standing to the side, looking at a large frame on the wall. His face had not appeared to have aged in years, showing only faint forehead lines. Stern gaze, thin brown eyebrows, and dark silver hair that refused to deteriorate or fall out. Michael guessed that he was around sixty. "Tell me," he said, not shifting his gaze, "do I look familiar to you?" Michael looked intensely at him, focusing on his features.

"Somehow… I feel like I've seen you before, but I don't remember how…"

"Maybe this will help," he said, motioning to the frame before taking a seat. Michael walked up to it; it only took a few seconds for him to realize who he was dealing with. The frame held a two-piece suit, dark jacket and white undershirt, complete with a red tie. The emblem of the crimson R over the left breast, though, is what really caught his attention. W…what? This is… "Before you respond according to your initial judgement," he said, "I ask for you to hear me out." Michael nodded, making his way around the desk and taking a seat, unsure of what he had gotten himself in to.

"I already agreed to that," Michael said. "I just never thought…"

"Fair enough. I guess that's to be expected. Should I start from the beginning?"

"Please."

"Alright. As I'm sure you know, my name is Giovanni, founder and former leader of Team Rocket. It was I who set the foundations - the basic blueprints - for building an organized criminal syndicate in the developed world over the course of a few months. Galactic, Plasma, Flare, even - all of them, traceable right back to my work."

"Yeah, I know. And it really fucked up the regions when those guys were out and about."

"That it did," Giovanni admitted. "And would you believe, if I told you, that I started in petty crime?"

"I guess not. That's where a lot of people start," Michael stated.

"Small-scale burglary, a couple instances of grand theft auto, and an assault - that was as far as I'd push it. Never got caught, either. I was always good at evading the cops. Looking back, I can't even explain why I went into crime. I came from a pretty well-to-do family. But anyways, things escalated after I pulled a particular job."

"Which was?"

"Kidnapping. Went to Cerulean; nabbed some collector's eevee. That was the greatest payday up until that point - getting that ransom. That's also when I found out that selling another's head was a very profitable business. So I went 'clean' for a while; got my education - majored in international business. Used a few local connections and set up a small gang of sorts - ran a few drug operations and poaching. It took years, but we became very good at what we did. Pretty soon, we were swarming with new recruits. And why not? The chance to make it big, almost guaranteed not to get caught? Our organization was successful, and the cops were shit. There was no touching us. We had more guns than the army. Before I knew it, we were setting up shop in cities across the region."

"Yeah," Michael replied. "Rocket definitely hit the whole region hard."

"And that isn't even the worst of it," Giovanni said, lightly tapping the armrest of his chair. "No, what's worse is that Rocket - my organization - could have been stopped way earlier than it was."

"It could have? Then why wasn't it?"

"I'd made deals with politicians, both left and right. Greedy fuckers are willing to leave you alone - no matter what you do - just so long as you slip a little something into their pockets."

"Then how did the organization get shut down?" Michael asked. "I mean, if the police couldn't do anything, and the politicians wouldn't, then how did Rocket come to an end? Was it the military?" Giovanni let out a light laugh.

"The military certainly fought us every chance they got, but they weren't the ones to make Rocket cave in. I was."

"You shut the organization down?" Michael asked amazed.

"Yes."

"After all you went through to build up Team Rocket, you just went and shut it down?"

"I closed the curtains. I had eventually seen what I had become - what I had made. And that wasn't shown to me by some politician, or soldier, or even an adult in general. I learned from a kid."

"A kid?"

"A young trainer, yes. He had interfered with our affairs on several occasions, getting to be a bigger and bigger thorn in my side as time progressed, and even posing a threat to the organization as a whole. Kicked me outta one of our own hideouts! I left him twice - didn't want to have a kid killed, but vowing that I wouldn't hesitate if he screwed with us again. So I left back to my gym."

"Gym?"

"I used to be a gym leader back in Viridian. Definitely provided great cover. Well, as it just so happened, that brat was taking the Indigo Challenge. So it doesn't take a whole lot of guessing as to who the hell showed up at my gym."

"What are the odds…"

"He came, of course, to pick another fight. As soon as he approached the battlefield, I began thinking of ways to make him disappear. I'd done it plenty of times to other people before, and trainers go missing all the time. But I couldn't do anything at the moment - couldn't go and blow my cover. Snatching up a kid in public visibility would surely get us caught. So I played it safe and did what a gym leader would usually do. I battled him."

"He won, didn't he? The battle?"

"Wasn't even close. I even had the type advantage over his starter, and he still plowed right through my team. I swear, that boy really knew how to add insult to injury." Giovanni held a cracked pokéball in his hand, turning it and making it glint in the light. "But that's when everything was revealed to me. He didn't beat me because of his training - my pokémon were trained rigorously. No, he beat me because they actually cared for him, and mine did not. Instead, I looked back at what my organization had given me. What my life of immorality had granted."

"What was that?"

"It felt great… up until that day. That's when it fully reflected on me what I had created; what I had turned myself into. In building myself up as a successful criminal overlord, I had suppressed any sense of decency. And you know what that got me?" He turned around, tossing the ball to Michael, who caught it. The ball had been broken; its hinges were smashed, glued back together. "A team that hated me and feared me. They all left as soon as the chance came - every single one of them. I had a son out of wedlock that wants nothing to do with me, hoping to be everything that I wasn't. Tens of thousands of people living in terror; lives ruined by what I had let happen and what I had done! I had set aside any sort of decency for the entire duration of my reign. I stole, lied, and had people killed. I even had my scientists create a pokémon for me, just so I could manipulate him to do my bidding. Don't worry, though, he destroyed the whole fucking lab. Lives in a fucking cave right now as a misanthrope - told me if I ever came for him again he'd kill me. That's what my life had amounted to. That kid, as much as I wanted to see him dead, helped me see that." For a moment, neither of them said anything. But there were still questions to be answered.

"What happened next?" Michael asked.

"Well, I disbanded the organization." He laughed coarsely. "You wouldn't believe how much trouble that caused. Like stirring a beedrill nest."

"I'm sure."

"In the years after, several of my top admins tried everything in their power to get the Team up and running again. But they needed me, and they knew it. They wanted to entice me back, believing that I disbanded temporarily. Without me, the organization would fall; I had left a gap that they couldn't fill. Once I had finally explained to them - that Rocket was truly done for good - they were appalled. That's when the split happened."

"A split? In Team Rocket?"

"Yes. Most of the team was loyal to me, not the organization. After all, when you traced it up the line, I was the one that gave them somewhere to feel accepted, food to eat, and a place to lay their heads at night. The rest, though, they fed into the group you all are fighting now. They started started doing anything they could for money. It just so happened to lead to trafficking."

"The people we've killed…"

"Many of them were in Team Rocket, yes. Those that disbanded asked me what was next. We had to have a real moral realignment, that's for sure. But I still had an issue at hand. I had created a beast. But you know what? I learned from that kid that it's never too early to fight. Maybe, I reasoned, it was never too late to start fighting either."

"What did you do?"

"For the second time in my life, I broke the law in creating a militant, non-governmental organization: the CIC. You have no idea how painful that was - destroying what I had built. That Team... that was my child. I bled for it, put in all the hours for it, and nurtured it. At that point, those that dissented became even more violent. We took matters into our own hands. Enemies of our former allies, vigilantes in the eyes of the military... a three-way free-for-all. Complete chaos."

"Who was the first to give out?"

"The military. Kanto never had particularly strong armed forces. We never fought them, and thankfully, they barely attacked us. Once they understood our purpose was to kill off the remains of Rocket, they pretty well left us alone. But I had trained my men very well, and the military learned that the hard way through fighting the new Rocket. By the time their army was crushed, they came begging to us for help. We were the only ones that had any experience fighting them. We trained together, after all, and we were no longer causing any trouble. Despite all that I had done, I was given a second chance to make it big. They made us part of the military. A special forces unit."

"So that's how the CIC was formed…" Michael said. "Tell me, does that mean that those people outside… those soldiers…"

"The oldest among them were in Team Rocket at one time, yes."

"…What the hell..."

"Not quite what you expected, is it?" Giovanni asked.

"Not in the slightest," he responded honestly.

"We are living proof that anyone can change their ways. I never got involved in human or sex trafficking, but I did my fair share of evils. Everybody can change, but not everybody will change. And right now, even though it seems hypocritical for me to say this, we can't wait for them to 'convert,' or come to their senses. Not when innocent people are suffering on this scale."

"No, we would be wrong to wait," Michael agreed. "Protect civilians over terrorists."

"Exactly," he said. "Now, I've definitely given you a nice little breakdown of my past. You still have yet to tell me what you think."

"…Honestly, I'm not really sure what to think," Michael replied. "I hate what you've done… this mess that you've created… but I can't bring myself to hold that against you. Not when you've made amends and taken steps to fix the situation." After thinking it over to himself for a moment, he concluded. "No, I have nothing against you, or at least, the new you. But you haven't told me - what is it that you want from me? I heard that you looked over my footage, but that doesn't give any answers as to what you need me for."

"Yes, Wesley sent me your footage. Told me that he thinks he found someone for the raid we have planned."

"Raid? What raid?" Giovanni walked over to a hanging map of Kanto, dotted, marked, and scribbled on, various locations being pinpointed. He pointed to a circled area towards the northeast part of the region. The old Power Plant.

"Soon, we will be launching an attack. Power usage and energy production have gone through the roof as of recently, and we have reason to believe that have taken legendaries captive there."

"Wait a second," Michael said, trying to process it all. "You mean to tell me they may have captured legendaries?"

"We're fairly certain that they have, yes. They've set up base there pretty big, so we're taking it back."

"So what purpose do I have in it?"

"I want you to lead it."

"Lead it?" Michael asked. "Why?"

"Because, son, what you did back there - that took real courage. That's something that can't be taught easily, and I need that right about now. I'm not gonna lie to you, though, this one will be pretty dangerous. I'm expecting to lose men on this mission. But we can't sit back and watch as they abuse legendaries."

"No," Michael admitted, "we can't. If you feel that you can use me, then I'll help."

"Really?" Giovanni asked. "That's it? Just like that? You aren't going to think about it for awhile?"

"Did you want me to?" Michael asked.

"Well, no… I just wasn't expecting a response so quickly."

"Well then, I'm sorry to disappoint."

"Oh no, trust me - there is no disappointment," he smirked. "Now, I do have one more proposition for you."

"Alright."

"How would you like to receive a partner?"

"A partner? What do you mean?"

"A pokémon - trained by the CIC. One of the best at stealth and disguise specialists we've trained."

"What for? I mean, what would we do?"

"You and he would go on missions, much like you already do. He'd be there to provide backup." Michael considered it for a moment - a pokémon could be helpful on certain missions, especially in stealth ones.

"Sure, I'll meet with him. What kind of a pokémon is he?"

"A zoroark."

. . . . .

"How'd the meeting go?" Wesley asked that night upon his arrival.

"Didn't expect—."

"For the leader of a counterterrorism special forces group to have been a former criminal overlord? Yeah, he probably gets that a lot."

"Why wasn't I told?" he asked. "I mean, it would've been nice to know beforehand."

"Be honest with yourself," Wesley replied, "would you have agreed to have met with him if you knew the truth?" …No… I probably wouldn't have… "So you see why we had to keep you in the dark?"

"Yeah, I guess so." It was late, so he decided to return to his quarters, picking up a quick meal at the cafeteria and eating it there since the girls probably grabbed something hours before.

"About time you showed up," Charlotte said as he walked in. A hand on her lip, as well as a wide grin, denied any hint of anger.

"Yeah, I know it took awhile, especially since it's an off day. But there was an important reason for it." He filled all of them in on the details, but left out the fact that the mission could be dangerous. They already worried enough.

"Who would've thought…" Layla said.

"Definitely not me," Michael chuckled. "But seriously, I'm glad he got himself straightened out." They each prepared for bed, but to his surprise, Elise walked back to the master bedroom, as she had done before.

"It's Charlotte's turn," she told him when he asked. Turn? What is that supposed to mean? He received his answer when Charlotte approached the couch, hopping up beside him.

"You're mine tonight," she teased. He didn't know how to respond, so he simply kept quiet, albeit blushing slightly at her implications. The fact that she gently nipped at his neck didn't help.

"Char…"

"Lighten up," she giggled, "I was only teasing." Despite her words, though, she wrapped herself around him, straddling him, running her paws through his hair, and kissing him softly on the cheek.


A/N:

That sums up this part of the story! Like I said, be watching the further development of the relationships between Michael and the girls. If you decide to leave a review, go on and tell me your thoughts - where you think the story is headed, how you feel, any suggestions/criticisms, etc. See y'all next chapter!