Author's Notes: Well, it looks like so far my little Pokeball theory has gotten mixed reviews. Thanks for telling me what you thought about that, by the way. Whatever your position, this chapter is back into the mysterious element rather than the scientific one. We're starting to hit the home stretch for this 'fic, so hopefully you should be starting to come up with some of your own ideas about just what, as Grottlis so eloquently puts it, "the truth" might be here.

Chapter 17: The Realization

Trevor was enjoying himself immensely. He was in the final stretch of a marathon, leading the pack as they rounded the final bend. He strained every muscle, feet pounding the track as he slowly pulled out ahead of his competition. At last, he threw himself across the finish line, feeling the winning tape give way as he ran through it. He was across, the other runners pounding across the line in a mob behind him. Though his every muscle burned with fatigue, he was elated as he slowed down, enjoying the wild cheers of the crowd. A reporter eagerly approached him from the sidelines as he came to a halt, trailing his camera crew posse behind him. Trevor grinned and pushed his hair out of his sweat-soaked face, preparing to appear before the entire Kanto region on national television.

The reporter opened his mouth and asked the first question. "Wake up, Trevor!"

"Huh?" Trevor replied as the scene started to go fuzzy for some reason, happiness slowly ebbing away.

The reporter's inane smile remained fixed on his face. His mouth didn't move. "Wake UP, Trevor!" he shouted in Trevor's ear. But...Trevor didn't have ears, did he?

The scene melted away in a tide of consciousness that swept away the happy dream. You don't have ears, Trevor reminded himself. Nor do you have legs for running marathons. You're an Ekans, remember?

Resentfully Trevor opened one red eye to discover who had seen fit to drag him so rudely from his fantasies. At first he felt a wild surge of fear as he felt himself closed in on all sides by an unyielding barrier, claustrophobia bubbling up until he realized that, of course, he was in his burrow. The entryway was apparently being blocked by some object, as no light or fresh air streamed in through it. The object barked, "Get up! We've got work to do?"

"Whuh...Seth?" Trevor groaned, head fuzzy and muddled. "What the heck are you doing here at this hour...or whatever that may be."

"It doesn't matter what time it is!" Seth snapped. "We need to act quickly. Come on, up!"

The Spearow withdrew his head from the burrow's mouth, allowing a breath of cool night air and moonlight to waft into the earthy burrow. Trevor tried to rouse himself more fully as he slowly coiled his way out of his burrow and into the moonlit forest, sinuous body dragging itself along the ground. Trevor glared accusingly at Seth, sure that he had been awoken on some fool's errand. His surety melted away as he saw Seth. The Spearow was glaring right back at Trevor, grim determination evident in every unkempt feather.

"What's this all about, Seth?" Trevor snapped. "Why weren't you at the meeting today?"

"I was busy," Seth replied. "Allekendro and I had ourselves a look around the Mistress' mansion."

"What?" Trevor hissed. "Are you crazy?"

"Maybe. It worked, whatever the case. We got in when she wasn't there. And we found...this."

Seth picked up something that had been lying on the ground near his short talons. He dropped it in front of Trevor, who squinted at it curiously. The pale moonlight washed out colors, making it difficult for him to make out anything beyond the shape of the object. After several seconds he realized what it was, however. "A Great Ball? And it's open."

"Not just any Great Ball," Seth snarled. "My Great Ball. It has my name on it."

Trevor turned the Great Ball over with his tail and saw that Seth spoke truly. An old peeling label clearly identified it as belonging to one "Seth Connors." It wasn't this that caught his eye, but the interior of the device, which had been melted, the metal components now only shapeless lumps and bubbles that stood out in stark black and white in the moonlight. "What happened to it?" Trevor asked himself in wonder and horror.

"What happened?" Seth hissed, apparently having overheard Trevor's conversation with himself. "I'll tell you what happened! The Pokemon that was in there died!"

"Died?" Trevor repeated uncertainly. "I dunno, Seth. I mean, maybe it just got released or something..."

"Bull, Trevor!" Seth snarled, keeping his voice low. "That Pokemon died. Not just died, it was murdered. That bitch murdered our Pokemon! All of them!"

"Now, Seth, you don't have any proof. If this Pokemon really died, then it's entirely possible that it did so for natural reasons." His excuse didn't sound very convincing, even to his ears. But he didn't really want to believe that...that the Mistress had killed all of the trainers' Pokemon. How could she? She was a Pokemon herself, after all. Pokemon didn't like killing each other.

"Natural causes?" Seth scoffed. "Whatever, Trevor. But if you really need more concrete "proof"..." he reached down beside him and picked something else up and dropped it in front of Trevor. It landed with a thud that was echoed in the Ekans' ringing head. It seemed as though he was watching the scene from far away on a hazy television. He felt strangely numb and detached.

He looked down at the object lying in the grass, hidden by the shadow of a bare tree branch, then glanced back up at Seth. The Spearow was silhouetted against the cold moon, expression indiscernible. Trevor didn't really want to look at what it was that was lying innocently in the sparse grass nearby. Didn't want to make it true. But he did look, hooking the whatever-it-was on the rattle at the end of his tail and bringing it out into the moonlight.

It was a Premier Ball, a silvery white banded with bright red. Like Seth's, it was open, innards grotesquely profaned. There was a sticker on it, a sticker that was merely a dark blot in the surreal light but whose shape was unmistakable. A Dratini...

Further realizations were drowned out by an icy chill that seemed to spread all along Trevor's long body until it finally reached his brain, leaving him frozen in place, able only to stare at the sticker for the space of ten heartbeats that were increasing in frequency. It seemed then that his red irises must be constricting, oozing across his pupils, pulling a red curtain over his field of vision. He abruptly thawed, a sudden spasm sending the terrible object spinning away behind him into the undergrowth. Trevor didn't care. Indeed, he did not even notice.

He was yelling, screaming at Seth, still unable to see anything beyond the terrible image that had been burned into his retinas. "It's not true!" he shrieked. "You're lying! She can't be dead!" He lunged blindly at Seth and was rewarded by a violent oath and a mouthful of feathers as the Spearow darted aside, unprepared. He coiled back into a ready position, vision beginning to clear. He locked his gaze on to the Spearow. "You...you! You did this! Where is she? What did you do with her?" He darted forward again, but Seth had been prepared and his head soared through empty air. There came a sudden blow from the side, a buffet by a short wing. The blow sent him reeling, his long body sprawled out across the ground. He drew himself back up and hissed, only to be rewarded with another buffet.

"Pull yerself together!" Seth snarled. "And keep yer voice down! Get a grip, Trevor!"

Trevor's vision was again obscured. He panted heavily, watching as scenes played before his inner eye.

A carnival, where the normally somber streets of Rustboro had been decked out with balloons and streamers. At the grandstand a rotund announcer for the Devon corporation was announcing the winners of the raffle. A premier ball sat next to him on a pedestal. He squinted his piggy eyes at the slip of paper, mopping his bald head with a handkerchief. "And the winning number is 218!" he bellowed into the megaphone. "218! Number 218! Please step forward to claim your prize!"...

"Finish it with Twister, Dratini!" Trevor yelled excitedly to the blue-gray dragon Pokemon.

"Teeeni!" Dratini squealed in reply, coiling its serpentine body into a series of rapid gyrations, sending a cyclone imbued with draconic energy spiraling towards the ceiling. Dratini released the pillar of destruction towards the Noespass, and it coiled itself around him, spinning him wildly around and around. It plucked pebbles from the gym's floor and added them to its fury, pummeling him and sending small chips of his rocky hide flying, only to have them pelt him again as they, too, were caught in the wild Twister.

The attack dissipated, leaving the Nosepass still spinning in place. He snapped to a halt, nose pointing north. For a second, it seemed that he was perfectly all right, but then he slowly began to tip forward, bright red nose slamming into the floor. Roxanne grudgingly recalled him as slowly, inexorably, his magnetic nose began to pull him north, sending inching along the floor in that direction. "Congratulations, Trevor," she said as cheerfully as she could, "You've earned the Stone Badge..."

The bright white light dissipated from the sleek, elegant Pokemon. It looked up at Trevor with huge blue eyes. "Dragonaiiir...."

"Now you see, don't you?" Seth croaked. Trevor was hurled back to the present abruptly at the sound of the Spearow's voice. He raised his heavy head and was startled to see that Seth had his bowed as well. The Spearow coughed and looked up. "You see what we have to do?"

"We have to get rid of her," Trevor snarled, surprised to find that his face was wet with something. Funny, he didn't recall that it had been raining. "She must pay for what she's done to us. And to our Pokemon."

Seth nodded fiercely. "And we have to do it soon. Maybe we can take the island back before she recaptures Jeremy."

Abruptly, a recent memory surfaced in Trevor's rattled brain. He frowned. "We were planning something this afternoon..." his brow wrinkled in thought, then he shook his head. "No, it won't work. It's too slow. We need to act now!"

"What do we do?" Seth asked eagerly. He was used to looking to Trevor for leadership.

"First, we must spread the word. The other trainers will join us, and so will the other Pokemon on the island. When they hear this, there will be no more hemming and hawing over what we should do. They will aid us, and we will finally be free."

Seth laughed bitterly. "Free. After all of these years..." he opened his stubby wings and began to beat them frantically, slowly rising off of the ground. "I'll spread the word. We'll meet at the meadow?"

Trevor hadn't thought about that, but the instant that Seth suggested it, it seemed somehow right. He nodded. "Yes. That's where we'll meet."

Seth pulled away, becoming a scruffy blot against the dark sky. Trevor turned and slowly began to undulate into the underbrush. There was an odd burning feeling in the center of his stomach, a festering wound that was slowly leaking poison throughout his body...

-----

Sasoliar returned to the mansion late at night, exhausted and in a foul mood. Erkaizor, the Houndoom who lived in a cave in the base of the cliff, had been making trouble again. The Houndoom had always been difficult to handle, and he seemed to be more so than ever this night. She looked forward to a good night's sleep as she dragged herself through the building's large doors.

She allowed her paws to carry her to her bed, passing through rooms without even noticing where she was. As she went down the corridor, however, an unfamiliar scent caught her attention. She stopped dead and tested the air, sensitive nose picking up the scent of an intruder. No, two intruders.

Rage coursed through her tired veins as she looked down the hallway. They dared trespass here, her own private residence? The scum! She started off down the hall, snout close to the ground, following their scent throughout the dusty hall. The scent was at least an hour old, but at least she could get an idea of where they had been and if they had destroyed or stolen anything. She followed the scent into a room off the main hall and from there, into a dark closet. Her head snapped up as she realized where she was.

Dusty shelves along one wall held evolution stones, precious gems that many a trainer spent years seeking out. Sasoliar regarded them with distrust and revulsion, but quickly turned her attention to the items that lay scattered about haphazardly. Two dark circles in the dust testified to the presence of split spheres that had lain for a long time but were now gone. So, they had taken two of the Pokeballs, had they?

This puzzled the Ninetales considerably. The Pokeballs fascinated her. She had tossed them in here without much care, but she would sometimes come down here to admire them. They were mysterious and intriguing, and she would sometimes spend some time turning one over between her forepaws, contemplating its function. But why would anybody want them? Grottlis had told her that they were useless when he gave them back to her. Why, she had only kept them because she thought that they were interesting. Whoever had broken in here, however, had apparently taken an interest in them as well.

Thinking of Grottlis made her suddenly look up in alarm. Moonlight was streaming in through the small window set high up in the wall. She was already late! Turning tails, she dashed from the closet, from the mansion, and into the forest. As she galloped along, she contemplated the situation. Surely Grottlis would be able to tell her about why they had taken the Pokballs.

She finally dashed out of the forest and out onto the cold sand. Sure enough, the Gengar was there waiting for her, spectral grin and leering eyes trained on her as she galloped towards him. Sasoliar's spirit's rose when she saw the small heap at his feet. So, he had brought Jeremy back to her? Excellent!

"Good evening, Sasoliar," he greeted her as she halted before him.

"The same to you, Grottlis," she replied. "I apologize for the delay. You see, there is another small matter that has come up."

"Another one?" Grottlis asked, clearly disappointed.

Sasoliar nodded. "Yes. You see, two Pokemon have apparently broken in to the mansion and found the Pokeballs. They made off with two of them. Do you have any idea why they might do that?"

There was a terrible silence. Grottlis glared at Sasoliar and finally snarled, "I thought I told you to get rid of those!"

Sasoliar was hurt. "I was going to, but I found them interesting. I just wanted to study them, that's all."

Grottlis sighed. "Forgive me. I spoke in haste. But indeed, this is a grave turn of events."

"Why?" Sasoliar asked.

"The trainers are likely going to be very agitated when they find out that there Pokeballs have turned up empty. They will naturally want to know what became of their beloved Pokemon."

Sasoliar sniffed, "They have been released from their life of menial servitude, of course."

"Of course," Grottlis replied silkily. "Now, they are likely going to try to start some sort of revolt against your rule. That's the way humans are, you know, always starting trouble."

"Oh, dear," Sasoliar sighed. "I suppose that I shall have to punish them. Why can't they just learn to be quiet and content?"

"I do not know that just punishment shall be enough," Grottlis replied darkly. "These humans will begin a massive rebellion! You can't talk sense into a mob Sasoliar. No, you're going to have to make an example of these rash humans."

"Example?" Sasoliar asked, mystified.

Grottlis nodded. "Indeed. Show these human scum that you mean business. That you are not afraid to use your powers to bring an end to their misbehavior. Earn their fear, and you earn their respect."

"Yes...I suppose that makes sense," Sasoliar mused. "But I don't know what I should do. Will you help me Grottlis?"

For a second Grottlis' red eyes darted back and forth as if he was seeking some means of escape, but when he replied, "Of course, Sasoliar," his eerie, hollow voice was as resolute as ever.

"Now, what do you want me to do with this?" he asked, indicating the crumpled Rattata lying at his feet.

Sasoliar regarded Jeremy thoughtfully. "I think that I can deal with him. Best to bring him with us, though. I don't want him running off again."

Grottlis shrugged and obligingly gathered the limp form up in his short arms. "Where to?" he asked.

Sasoliar had to think about that for a minute. After she hit on the answer, though, she chided herself for not seeing it sooner. "To the meadow, of course," she replied. "That is where they will be."

Together, ghost and fox entered the forest. But while the Ninetales' attention was fixed on the road and time ahead, the Gengar seemed to be equally focused on something else, frequently glancing back over his spectral shoulder.