AUTHORS NOTES:

#1: Those who would like to see the lovely artwork of Gary Oak which inspired me SO MUCH are welcome to see it! Ori has granted me permission to post her link. http:members.shaw.ca/orichan From there you may enter her site, then go to the fan work/art section. Then go to fanart, then to the Miscellaneous anime/manga fanart section. You will find Gary Oak there!

#2: Please be aware that the chapters from this point on DO, unfortunately, have some spelling errors and type-o's. Do not feel the need to alert me to this fact. I am in the process of editing and correcting all errors.

Chapter 27

When a dangerous situation presents itself the body reacts with a natural defense mechanism. Stated simply: the adrenaline kicks into high gear. There is a moment for everyone when they realize it is "fight or flight" time. Now or never. One can either fight for their life or run for it. Survival is all that matters. Period.

Unfortunately for the captive trainers neither option would help them. The outcome of both standing and fighting, or struggling to escape would end in the same devastating way: their Pokemon would die. Even if a trainer managed to escape with their own life would it be worth sacrificing their beloved Pokemon?

Though the fourteen finalists were all very diverse people -- with unlike opinions and values -- all possessed one common central trait: they loved their Pokemon more than themselves. The beast had chosen Its victims well. Self sacrifice is easy, but sacrificing someone you love is impossible.

As Brock was shoved forth into the arena, all he could think about was his Onix, Geodude, Crobat, and Forretress. All he could think about was how frightened they must be now; and how brave they were as they fell protecting him. The petrifying memory of his Pokemon was still as vivid in Brock's mind as the Seer's recent words. Both recollections were like nightmares that refused to fade away. Brock could clearly hear the voices of his Pokemon, screaming and shrieking, desperate just to defend him. They would have died for him that night; selflessly, without any hesitation at all.

I love them, a quivering lump of emotion swelled in Brock's throat. It took him several attempts before he could fully swallow it down. I miss my Pokemon. I just wish that I could see them and know that they are okay. I never wanted to train them for battles like that. I just wanted to raise them to be strong and healthy . . . but, maybe I should have trained harder . . . I just don't know anymore. Brock instantly reprimanded himself for the momentary doubt. Get a grip, Brock. My God, Lance and Bruno couldn't stop that thing. My Pokemon did their very best for me . . . I owe them the same.

That bestial 'miracle' Pokemon had so easily conquered his own. The creatures movements and accuracy were flawless! Brock had actually come face-to-face with a legendary Pokemon. But unlike Ho-Oh or Articuno who respected peace; this Pokemon was evil. Brock had always been taught that no Pokemon was truly evil. That it was only their masters malicious will that could turn them to do wicked things. But this Pokemon . . . it had no master . . . it knew that its master was dead . . . yet, it still acted out viciously. What kind of Pokemon was this? Why wasn't he willing to accept his master's death? Brock wished that he knew the Pokemon's name.

"Take two balls, hurry up!" Brock was jolted to reality as a harsh kick landed against his back. He stumbled forward, wincing as the area already began to throb.

"O-okay, okay," Brock stammered, clearing his throat nervously. Without further delay he reached into the sack of Pokeballs. Brock fished around cautiously, he was not a gambling man by any means. It was unjust that these balls would determine his fate. It was like casting a pair of playing dice. Odds you die, evens you live. It all depended on what type of Pokemon he got; and how much knowledge he carried with him.

"Hurry up!"

Brock could tell from the Revivalists tone that he had better comply quickly in order to avoid another hard kick. Thus, he promptly chose two Pokeballs from the top of the bag. At once Brock realized that he hadn't even bothered to glance up at his opponent yet. I wonder who it will be?

Brock was disturbingly conflicted. On one hand he wished his opponent would be Ash or Misty and that he could find a way to win and save them from that horrific fate. But, another part of Brock wished that he would look up and find Karen or Lance standing before him . . . surely an Elite Four would crush him; even when he put his best efforts forward.

Instead Brock found someone else. He started to panic; his mind became void of any calming thoughts. The young challenger's expression matched his own. The boy was staring wide-eyed before him.

"Richie . . ." Brock's heart thudded painfully in his chest. Brock was very fond of this skilled young man. The mere possibility of Richie being subjected to that horrifying revival ceremony was out of the question.

I have GOT to beat him. I could never live with myself if Richie managed to beat me and then he somehow won this thing. I only wonder . . . can. . . I beat him?

Brock's concerns were valid. Richie was undoubtedly one of the world's top young competitors. Although Brock often questioned the beast's reasons for including himself in this tournament, Richie's place here was obvious: this kid was destined for greatness. Becoming a gym leader was a given for Richie's future. In fact, Brock wouldn't be surprised if the young man was vying for Lance's position one day.

"Hi, Brock," Richie greeted him timidly. Obviously his inner thoughts were equally tense as to the possible outcomes of this battle. Richie was gripping his two Pokeballs as though each one contained the very essence of his life.

The Seer's doomful voice invaded their ears from someplace above the arena. "Prepare yourselves, gentlemen."

Brock glanced cautiously from one side of the arena to the other. Six trainers were seated in the front rows of each side. To his left was Lance, Morty, Gary, Giovanni, Liza, and Karen. On the right sat Bugsy, Koga, John, Agatha, and -the most terrified pair- Ash and Misty. Brock felt slightly more at ease knowing that Ash and Misty were at least allowed to sit next to one another. It was his hope that they would draw comfort from the others presence. Watching him battle was going to be emotionally trying for them both. It pained Brock terribly to know that he was about to cause Ash and Misty further suffering and anxiety. But, of course, he had no choice.

Misty's jaw was stiff, and her eyes seemed dark, lifeless, like a glass doll. Brock's insides churned. Misty is numbing it all out. Ash's expression was blazing with a powerful fury; a boiling anger and hatred that an innocent boy should never be driven to experience. Ash was somehow managing to keep his mouth shut; but his eyes were screaming out to Brock. Ash wants to protest. He wants to throw a fit. But, he knows better. He seems so much more mature now. It's like Ash has aged ten years in these last few days. I'm so proud of him, but I wish he didn't have to grow up like this. The reality was nasty. One of Ash's dearest friends, whether it be Brock or Richie, was about to be take one giant step closer to death. It was an unbearable agony for Ash; and Brock was convinced that Misty's company was the only thing keeping him sane.

"BEGIN!" The Seer meant that word.

"Pokeball, go!" Richie's voice was little more than a squeak, terror had gripped solid hold of his vocal chords.

Unquestionably the largest Electabuzz Brock had ever seen appeared from Richie's ball. Across the arena Richie gasped, startled by the sheer mass of the Pokemon.

This Electabuzz is well over 5 feet high . . . It must weigh 100 pounds . . . my GOD! Brock's mind scrambled for information. The average Electabuzz is just under 4 feet high and barely 66 pounds . . . this one is a record breaker! Electabuzz is one hundred percent an electric type, and pacts a nasty Thunder Punch. I've got to hope that I get a grass or dragon type.

The mighty Electabuzz stomped its feet impatiently; its eyes fixed greedily on the Pokeballs Brock clutched in his hands. Without muttering a sound, Brock pitched one of his own balls forth. At the moment Fate seemed to be frowning upon Richie. Brock got a Poliwag.

"Oh!" Richie wined softy. His face instantly bleached as the harsh truth of his type advantage struck him.

Brock's Poliwag squirmed enthusiastically; the water Pokemon seemed unfazed by its disadvantage.

Okay Brock, think this through. Poliwag has no arms and just newly formed legs. It's at an extreme disadvantage out of the water. Poliwag can barely get around on the dry surface of this arena!! Its techniques are. . . are . . . Brock was not allotted the luxury of time to formulate a battle plan.

"Electabuzz," Richie yelled, his tone was somewhat calmer now; more assertive even. Nothing felt more natural to Richie than battling Pokemon. And in this hellhole of unbearable steaks and unknown futures this Electabuzz was the one thing Richie COULD control, and that is what he intended to do.

"Electabuzz, Leer!" The giant electric tiger's eyes grew dark as it cast a sudden spell over Poliwag. The Poliwag flinched painfully its defenses waned.

"It's okay, Poliwag," Brock reassured. "Use Amnesia!" Poliwag exuded confidence as a blazing white light washed over its body. Okay, its special has been raised.

Richie raised a somewhat skeptical eyebrow at Brock. "Electabuzz, Light Screen!"

"Good counter," Brock admitted. "Poliwag, Hypnosis!"

Twisted rays of sleep radiated from the spiral on the tadpoles belly. Richie, however, instructed his Electabuzz to dodge. Electabuzz obeyed effortlessly. Richie was very comfortable handling all types of Pokemon; but, like Ash, electric types were his specialty.

"Finish this, Electabuzz, TUNDER PUNCH!"

"Run, Poliwag!" Brock cried in vain. His Poliwag could only toddle to the side clumsily before Electabuzz was on top of it. Electabuzz pounded Poliwag unmercifully with his electric crackling fists.

"Poliwag, return!" Brock commanded, recalling the injured Pokemon. There was no point in delaying, Brock cast his final ball. "Pokeball, go!" A Pinsir who was literally trembling with rage emerged from the ball.

Brock quickly evaluated his new Pokemon. Pinsir, bug . . . a stag beetle. It depends on strength to win fights. But what moves does this Pokemon have that can really get a fast win? Ah! Yes, of course! These Pokemon are ALL at extremely high levels. . .

"Pinsir, Seismic Toss, NOW!"

Pinsir was much more agile than Poliwag, he bolted forward and seized Electabuzz in his pinchers with mild effort.

"Electabuzz, get outta there!" Richie was not asking, he was demanding.

Before Electabuzz could react Pinsir smashed it callously into the arena floor. Chunks of floor tile to exploded everywhere. Brock and Richie yelled in surprise, attempting to shield their eyes with their arms.

"Electabuzz?" Richie called to his Pokemon, but it lay still. "Electabuzz?!"

Brock watched attentively. It appeared that Electabuzz was done. But, apparently, Electabuzz was tougher than most Pokemon. "Buzz. . buzz. . ." Electabuzz climbed to its feet. It was weak, but also incredibly angry.

Brock never quite understood what happened in the next few moments. All he could hear was Richie yelling to his Pokmeon - insisting that it use Thunder over and over and over again. The entire arena was engulfed by blinding fireworks. It was the most intense series of Thunder attacks Brock had ever bore witness to. Brock shut his eyes as tightly as he could to protect them. The explosions from the thunder blasting across the arena was deafening.

When it was all over Pinsir had been practically fried. Brock never even had a chance to react.

Brock's eyes were still burning as he was hustled quickly from the arena and then the entire room.

As he strained his eyes to focus against the sudden darkness of the hallway, Brock felt a little woozy. He was being rushed towards a dead-end of the building, one that appeared to be filled with locked cell doors.

"You will not be watching the rest of the battles today," the Revivalist dragging his rope informed him. "But behave your self and you may watch the final rounds."

Before Brock could ask any questions he was shoved forcefully inside one of the cells. Brock rubbed his eyes; they stung as they adjusted to the gloomy darkness.

"Oh. . .my. . . oh. . my. . ." a faint, yet familiar, voice ascended from a far corner of the cell. "Don't hurt me. . pl.. .ea-se. I'm just. . . an artist. . . "

That voice! Brock took a tentative step towards the person who was trembling hysterically in the shadows.

"Tracey? Is that you?" Brock squinted in an effort to make out Tracey's face. Tracey was rocking back and forth on his heels; hugging his own body in some desperate attempt for comfort. "Tracey? Hello? It's Brock. What's wrong?"

Tracey dared a quick peek up at him - just long enough for Brock to make a positive identification. "Hey, it IS you. I heard you were here. Listen, I know we don't know each other all that well, but-"

"SILENCE!" Tracey shrieked, tears erupting from his eyes. "I LOST! Ha ha! I-I lost! I k-know what happens to the w-winner. I saw everything! But, I LOST! Ha ha."

"Yeah. . ." Brock was officially unnerved. But more so, he was genuinely concerned about Tracey's panic-stricken behavior. "I lost too. We're in the same boat now, Tracey."

Geeze, he must have totally snapped. What could have happened to him?

"LIER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You are a LIER! . . . W-wait. . . go away, d-d-don't h-u-urt m-me!"

Brock cringed uncomfortably. This is going to be a long, long, long night.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0 0o0o0o0o0o0o0 0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Thanks to Sizor and Noctowl all of Ash and Gary's Pokemon had successfully reached their destination. They had arrived in the forest which was surrounding the beasts supposed underground base . . . the place where all of the captive trainers were surly being held against their wills.

The Pokemon on this rescue mission numbered in the hundreds. However, less than a handful of actual Pokemon were physically present in the forest right now. The rest were nestled safely inside their Pokeballs; which Charizard carried in a gigantic sack.

The Pokemon had cleverly decided that only a few of them- mostly those who could fly- should be released. After all, whoever or whatever kidnapped the trainers was bound to be mighty suspicious if they were to see the entire army marching through the woods. Therefore, Noctowl and Sizor lead the charge. They were followed closely by Butterfree, Pidgeot, one small (but very insistent) Pidgy, and of course Pikachu and Squirtle were riding on Charizard's back.

"Siz-Siz," Sizor instructed them to land about half a mile from the area where he claimed rocks had shot forth and attacked him. Noctowl confirmed the location.

"Pika pi," now was the time to formulate a more direct plan of action.

"Pidgy, Pidgy," the small Pidgy already had one.