The jeep's heating was barely enough. Even with his hands and fingers pushed up against the blowers as far as they would go, the man found himself struggling to get much benefit from them. It was however better than the cruel and remorseless winds that had threatened to take off his extremities. The man sat hunched over, struggling with the shivers which were afflicting him. At least they were moving and the vehicle did offer some sanctuary from the elements. The only complaint he might have had was that they were moving painfully slowly. Not that they had much choice, the elements and uncertain terrain made it impossible to envision going any faster.

"Feeling better?"

The pyramid king turned to look towards his saviour. With only a pair of sunglasses to try and spare her eyes, he reasoned that she must have been suffering about as much as he was right now. She wasn't superhuman. Like him, she grit her teeth and bore the pain from the biting cold without complaint.

He hadn't questioned just what could have drawn the Sinnoh champion up the side of the mountain. It seemed so obvious to him that he hadn't bothered. He was impressed that she'd made up up this far by herself but not entirely surprised, he'd learned long ago not to underestimate her. He was however a little bit disappointed that she'd come alone. Given what he believed they were likely to be going up against, they could most certainly have done with some assistance. Beggars couldn't be choosers though and there weren't many other people on the face of the planet that Brandon would rather have had with him for something like this.

"Yes. I reckon you probably saved me."

"All in a day's work." Cynthia paused for a moment, pensive before adding without taking her eyes off of the road ahead. "Hope you don't mind my saying but you look terrible."

"You wouldn't believe..." The man grumbled.

"Those boys of yours still running you ragged, huh?"

The mention of his sons caused Brandon to let out a heavy sigh. He ran his hands through his hair, sweeping some of it out of his face and trying to rid it of some of the snow and ice which had formed in it. Instantly images of Paul and Reggie were conjured in his mind. He was his boys both as they once had been frozen in an idealized version of their youngest years and then how they were now. He was reminded of how much of a failure he had been and found himself wondering just how it was that the two of them weren't more badly damaged than they were. Shame made the usually proud Pyramid king be quiet for a few moments, wondering how he could possibly confess the truth to his companion:

"They're in trouble Cynthia and it's my fault."

It was a terrible confession for a father to make but it was the truth. They were both in trouble because of him.

Some people would have been horrified to hear such a statement. Brandon couldn't help but look towards the woman, morbidly curious to see just how she would react to it. Cynthia paid him little heed. She'd heard him, he was quite certain of that much. Her attention remained focused on the road in front of them, determined. He couldn't quite help but wonder just what was going through the woman's mind. Whether or not she was disgusted with him and wanted to kick him out of the car and leave him by the side of the road where she had picked him up. There was little doubt in his mind that some would have. He had failed in his most basic of tasks and sadly, it wasn't the first time either.

She remained painfully silent for a few moments before declaring firmly:

"You'll save them. We both will." Her voice softened a few seconds later as she continued. "I met Paul not that long ago. I've got to say he reminded me a lot of you when we first met."

"What?" For a little while at least, Brandon decided to play the game. "Arrogant and angry at the world?"

"Well..." There was just a hint of amusement behind the woman's voice. "I was going to say fearless and with something to prove."

"Did he remember you?"

"I don't think so." Cynthia shook her head. "I think he just recognized me-"

"Imagine that..." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a playful glare.

"He came right up to me and challenged me to a battle you know?"

"Yeah..." Brandon let out a sigh. "Yeah, that sounds like him."

Call it raw courage, recklessness or foolishness, perhaps a bit of all three, he knew that his youngest wasn't afraid of anything. Reggie too was brave in his own way. Unlike his little brother though, he at least had some common sense to keep most of him impulsiveness in check. It was a trait which whilst, in many ways made Brandon proud and did remind him of his own youth, also caused the father to worry. How many times had his own inability to recognize danger and acknowledge when he was in over his head? Even right now, it was that same insane inability to back down which had driven the three of them to their current predicament. Even now, the pyramid king was reminded that he was only certain that he was alive. For all he knew, both of his sons could be dead in the snow somewhere.

That thought more than anything else in his life terrified him.

He went in search of a distraction. Business had always been something that he could bury himself in to escape whatever was troubling him or at least to try and push it from his mind for a little while. He'd learned that much a few years ago. Today, it wasn't excavations or hunting long lost legendary pokemon that was on his mind, but rather something rather more pressing:

"Team Galactic, what do you know about them?"

"About as much as you do, I'd wager. You still have some of those old sources of yours?"

"Of course but you've faced them." He wasn't interested in questionable fashion choices or even who their members might be. "Should we be worried?"

"Not about the grunts." Cynthia replied, adopting a more serious tone. "There are a lot of them but unless you've downgraded your team since we last met they shouldn't pose much of a threat. The commanders are a bit tougher but there only seems to be three of them. As for whoever is in command of the whole operation, I really can't say. They're ruthless and organized."

Brandon grumbled, although he'd known better than the expect pushovers.

Already, the Pyramid king was planning things out in his mind. He was grateful for the assistance. As someone who kept tabs on potential troublemakers, he knew that Team Galactic wasn't the sort to be taken lightly. They would no doubt be expecting some sort of rescue attempt if they had prisoners or other efforts to foil their plans. Their best chance was therefore to be smarter. Brandon hoped it wasn't his ego talking but he doubted from what he'd heard that they would be able to stand up to both himself and Sinnoh's Champion for long. So they'd likely play dirty.

"We'll need to try and rescue any captives they might have first."

"Agreed. I think they might have at least one other. A member of the International Police notified me about Team Galactic's presence on Mount Coronet some hours ago but I haven't heard from him since. If they do have him, they'll likely be keeping him with Paul and any other prisoners they might have."

"Damn crooks..." Brandon couldn't help but curse under his breath.

"Speaking of crooks..." Cynthia began tentatively. "Are you going to tell me what you're doing giving Team Rocket's Meowth a piggyback?"

If there was ever a moment that he'd been forced to sacrifice his dignity it was that one. Still, somewhat begrudgingly, the pyramid king explained himself. He told the woman about just how they had bumped into the three troublemakers and had intended to drag them back down the side of the mountain to hand them over to the authorities. That had been the plan. Then things had gone to the dogs, mostly because of his inability to control himself. That had more or less brought them round to where she had picked the two of them up.

It was a strange tale but then there was little about today, or even the past five days that had been normal.

"So Team Rocket's been caught up in this mess too?"

"Jessie and James went after the twer-" One glare from Brandon was enough to stop the pokemon. "Reggie."

"Okay. So that means, what? Five prisoners to rescue?" The Pyramid king questioned.

"Maybe more..." Cynthia paused briefly, pensive. "I was on my way up with three kids and their pokemon. They claimed that they saw the lake guardians. Then, suddenly, they vanished. I think they were likely summoned up here."

"The Lake Guardians?"

Brandon cast his eyes back towards where he knew, if it weren't for this infernal storm, he would have had a good vantage of a large part of the country. The strange light that they'd seen only a few hours ago came back to him suddenly. He'd known that it was unnatural and meant nothing good as soon as he'd laid eyes on it. The sudden change of weather had only reinforced that fear. Quickly but silently, the man's mind went through what he knew of the Lake Guardians and Sinnoh mythology. There were so many tales about them. Some true no doubt, others were probably the result of exaggeration and attention seeking adventurers.

Slowly, his attention travelled back towards the mountain they were on. The sky above them had turned almost pitch black, a darkness that not even the night itself held. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he recalled some of the stories and rumours that had been going around about Team Galactic. For the first time in a long while, Brandon found his mouth to be dry, the words were struggling to come:

"They're going to try and summon Dialga and Palkia, aren't they?"

"I think there's a very good chance. They already have the three lake guardians, the Lustrous and Adamant orbs and they stole some of the meteorite from Veilstone…"

"Red Chain..." Brandon grumbled under his breath. "Fools don't realize what they're messing with."

"Maybe they do, maybe they don't. Whatever the case, we need to stop them."

The Pyramid King nodded only once. In truth, right now he was only half-listening. All that he could think was that in a few moments, gods would be breaking their way into their world. In his youth, the prospect would have brought with it some genuine terror, certainly but also a thrill. The prospect of being able to witness legends that many couldn't even begin to imagine and maybe even to measure himself against them. Oh, a young Brandon would have leaped at the chance, even if it meant his own demise. A man who had lived a whole life inbetween though felt only fear. Not for himself. Inescapable was the knowledge that his two sons were wrapped in the hell that was about to be unleashed.

The door opened.

Paul had been waiting. He'd positioned himself as best as he could in front of the door, readying himself. They would have to come back sooner or later and when they did, he had decided that he was going to let his captors have it. He credited himself with a certain amount of pride as having already made himself into more than a minor nuisance. Now, bruised and battered but warmed up away from the harsh weather outside, he planned on giving his captors hell. He did what he could to ignore the worried looks he was getting from his fellow prisoners. They had already advised him against it, especially the strange man whom he'd never seen before. With his hands bound, he couldn't expect to do much other than to give those who had captured him an excuse to rough him up.

He didn't care. He wanted, needed to fight. It was the only way that he could think of right now to let off some of the pressure built up inside of him. He didn't even have a plan.

As soon as the metal door screeched open, Paul lunged. He just threw himself into the group on the other side of the door. He was met almost instantly with a punch to the jaw which sent him backwards. He supposed he should have been grateful it was a person and not a pokemon responsible. It still hurt though and left him dazed on the floor. Anger however proved to be a powerful fuel and one which allowed him to pick himself back up in the space of a few seconds. If only he'd had his hands free, then he might have been able to do so just that little bit quicker. He spun around just in time to see something or rather someone being thrown into him.

He grunted as the breath was knocked from out of him. He was about to shove whatever had hit him off of him so as to be able to try and get one last lunge in when something caused him to stop suddenly. He wasn't too sure just what it was but he got a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He felt unwell and the cruel smirk on the blue haired commander's face only seemed to confirm what he already knew he would find if he looked down. So for a few seconds, he resisted the urge to do so as the door shut once more.

"Oh Reggie!"

Of course it would be those morons who broke the illusion. Them, plus the two clowns who were shoved in almost as an afterthought.

Paul looked down to see the body of his brother. Something was terribly wrong. He was deathly pale, his face covered with sweat. The young man did try to move, he managed to pick himself up. He pushed himself up off of his little brother, freeing him. He seemed to move to attempt to stand. His legs and arms trembled. He seemed to be shaking from head to foot, as if every single ounce of strength that he might have had had been taken from him. A few seconds later, he tumbled back down, landing on his side uselessly. He lay there, shivering as if exposed to all of the elements. They hadn't even bothered to bind his hands. Apparently judging him too helpless to pose even a remote threat.

The younger brother could only stare helplessly. Somehow, seeing Reggie, who for all of his faults had always been there, sturdy and durable in his own way, so useless served to anger him. He wasn't sick or hurt or whatever. This was just him being his usual weak self. Just like that gym leader, he spent so much time with. Paul clenched his teeth:

"What are you doing! Get back up!"

"Paul… He's hurt."

It took Reggie a huge amount of effort to shift himself over. He was gasping and withering in pain every second. Paul starred, unable to pull himself together enough to react appropriately. He saw the blood before he saw the wound. It stained the fabric of his trousers and continued to flow quite abundantly. The wound itself was ugly, swollen and discoloured. With fumbling hands, the elder brother reached down towards his injury. His face distorted with a grimace as he desperately fought back the urge to scream. At the end of it, he was left gasping for breath, struggling against an enemy which was assailing him from within.

Of course, Ash and his friends were there, huddling round them. Paul lunged back towards them, attempting to push them back. He positioned himself as firmly as possible between his ailing brother and those who would crowd him.

"Stay away!"

"We're just trying to help." It was Brock who spoke softly.

"Help? How the hell can you help?! Nobody ever helps us!"

"Brock's good with helping Pokemon-" Dawn began.

"Reggie isn't a pokemon!"

"Paul..." The sound of his brother's voice, weak and frail caused him to stop. "Let them help."

He was about to shout at his brother. To remind him that they didn't need anyone and to tell him to get his act together. He seemed to have managed to pull himself together just a little bit but remained terrifyingly pale. He could have been a ghost. With his mouth dry, Paul nodded slowly. The anger didn't quite leave him, it never did. It was quieter though. It allowed him to shift away, allowing one of Ash's friends to approach.

Almost as soon as he did, Paul was reminded of just how stupid it was. All of them had their hands tied behind their backs. All they could do was stare at Reggie and pontificate about what to do, what he needed. Take note of the fact that something was terribly wrong and lament the fact that locked in this stupid cell, there was nothing that could be done. They had no supplies. Not even any water. So he let them stand back, aware of how stupidly pointless it was all going to be. Brock did his best. Even the most cynical of the brothers could tell that much but it was a lot of just staring and worrying. Even before the first word was uttered, he knew it wasn't going to be anything good:

"He's been poisoned." Brock spoke eventually. "What did this?"

"Toxicroak." It was James who answered for him.

Paul wasn't familiar enough with Toxicroaks to know just how bad their poison was. He wasn't even entirely sure how they poisoned people to begin with. The silence and the shadow that seemed to pass across the features of the young man who had been trying to tend to him spoke volumes. There was a strange feeling now in the pit of his stomach as he watched his brother, still groaning in pain whilst he trembled head to foot as with every heartbeat, his body pumped toxin round its system.

"Can you do anything?" Ash asked quietly after a moment.

"Not here. I can't even move my hands. He needs a pokemon center and some antivenom soon or else-"

"Or else what?!" Paul demanded, cutting him short.

"Paul, he's sick-" Brock began.

"He's not- He won't!" Paul trembled before taking a deep breath. "He's not sick!"

"This isn't helping. He needs to keep calm and stay still."

"He's going to be fine!"

Paul repeated stubbornly. He wasn't entirely sure if Reggie had heard Brock's recommendations or if the poison had already taken such a toll on him that he had no choice but to lie there on the cold floor helplessly. There was nothing more that could be done. The younger of the brothers could only kneel there and watch. He supposed that he could have tried anew to free himself. He could have slammed himself against the steel door and demand that those who had taken them and done this to his brother show themselves so that he could make them regret it but even there, he found himself unable to muster together the strength of will to do so.

He'd sat here like this before. He could remember their father on his knees, his face a little less haggard and his hair still more brown than grey. It wasn't Reggie helpless on the ground but rather their mother in her husband's arms. She lay there limply, breathing shaky and irregular breaths. Her last few words were lost to all but the Pyramid King. She'd turned to look at her sons and Paul had seen the pain there behind her eyes as they had grown dark, sorrow filling them in their last instants as she realized that she was going to leave them.

"I-I'm sorry Paul." Reggie drew him out of his thoughts.

"For what?" The younger snapped in return.

"I couldn't save you."

"Yeah…" Paul wanted to be angry but couldn't think of anything else to say. "Well… I never asked for your help!"

"I know but-" He paused, taking a deep breath. "You're my little brother. It's my job to look after you."

Another cutting complaint was on the tip of Paul's tongue. It had almost escaped him but for whatever reason, as he took note of his brother's eyes resting upon him. For a few seconds, it seemed to him that it was his mother looking back at him, with all of that tireless patience and love of hers, no matter how terrible his attitude or how cruel his words. She had always been there and when she hadn't it was Reggie that had taken her place. In the space of a few seconds, all of the harshness he'd been about to spit out, he swallowed. It formed a painful lump in his throat.

Instead, he settled down next to his brother. It was impossible not to look at him. Paul refused to think of the past any longer, knowing full well that it could and would only scare him to do so least he draw more unwanted and unpleasant parallels. Reggie was weak but not that much. It took more than a little scratch to take his big brother down. The younger of the siblings doubled down on that certainty, using it to strengthen his own resolve.

"You'll be fine."

He repeated those few words like a mantra. He doubled down on it like it was indisputable and unavoidable truth. His brother would be fine. They would find a way out of this mess, somehow.

He was disturbed from his thoughts by a familiar warm hand he hadn't felt in a very long time. Startled, he looked down to see his elder brother. Force of habit demanded that he pull away from the hold and he almost did. As he began to yank his hand free however, he stopped. There was a warmth coming from his sibling which he hadn't felt or maybe more accurately allowed himself to feel. It reminded him of his mother and even somehow of a stranger of a man he'd once called "father" and how on stormy nights, when the wind had howled as it was right now outside and thunder had grumbled, he'd found some comfort and safety snuggled up to the man. Paul didn't quite know how to react, he just sat there dumbly for a few moments. Then, slowly, without him fully willing them to, his fingers tightened. He held onto Reggie.

"We'll be alright. We'll be alright..."

Brandon wondered if it was just his getting older or if this was really just the single worst storm he had ever been thrust into. Lying here in the snow probably wasn't helping things. Whilst neither of them had actually complained about it, he could tell that Cynthia was equally nearing her limit. Despite the pain and the fact that at this point, he was relatively confident that neither of them could feel their extremities at this point, the man was aware of the risk of moving too quickly. They had to count their enemies, work out what they were up against and who was where.

There were certainly a lot of them.

Ordinarily the Pyramid King might have made some comments about the truly bizarre fashion choices that had been made. If it were just the two of them and they might even have dared to laugh. Knowing that at least one of his sons was down there was enough to banish even the faintest hint of a smile from the man's face. They watched in silence from a ridge, sheltering as best as they could behind a mound of snow. It gave them a good vantage point over the base that seemed to have been set up by these goons. Whatever they were preparing, they were busy little workers, rushing around in a state of excitement, rather than panic. They must have been about ready…

Behind them, their third (and it had to be said somewhat unwanted companion) was showing a good deal less restraint. Between the shivering, the teeth chattering, the pacing, he seemed determined to do everything that he could to get under their skin. If Cynthia could grit her teeth and put up with it, Brandon wasn't feeling quite as clement. He could feel the Pokemon's eyes burrowing into them, as it stood there desperately trying to warm itself:

"I don't get it. What's stoppin' you two from just goin' down there and beatin' em'?"

"The prisoners!" Brandon snapped. "Sure, we might take down a few of them but they'll go and hide behind them. We'll have no choice but to surrender."

"I think one of us is going to have to run a distraction." Cynthia muttered. "Try and draw some of them away..."

Reluctantly, Brandon had to agree. After watching these crooks for a good while, the Pyramid king didn't think they were ever likely to abandon this part of the camp, at least not until it was too late. They were trickling away, disappearing inside of the cave, That would force them to have to take a chance sooner or later. The Pyramid King thought about just what could be done. This lot seemed organized, that would mean they were going to have to need quite the distraction to get them to move. There was the beginning of a plan formulating within his mind. It was risky and could easily get him killed but as of right now, the man wasn't entirely sure that they had much in the way of a choice.

"I'll do it. If I can sneak into that cave, I'll make a scene. That should buy you some time."

"I can do that, if you want to rescue your sons."

"Probably best not… I meant what I said when I said I messed up." Brandon let out a sigh. "The last thing we need is things getting bogged down with family politics."

Cynthia's gaze came to rest upon him, softening as it did so. He knew that she understood what he meant, even without him articulating it fully. In truth, Brandon knew his motivations weren't entirely unselfish. If he could postpone having to face the sons he'd so recklessly abandoned only a few hours ago, then he would take the easy way out, even if it meant fighting an army of psychotic lunatics in order to do so. He turned away from her, already planning how he would go about getting their attention without endangering the captives. A hand on his shoulder caused him to stop, to look over his shoulder to see Sinnoh's champion. Most other people he would have shrugged off, she was a rare exception.

"There's no time to argue, so I won't but be careful!"

"I always am."

"Now we both know that's a lie."

He wasn't entirely sure if she was teasing him or not. Given the circumstances, he took it to be a warning and one which he wasn't about to dismiss carelessly. There was no more smiles to be found on either of their faces. Brandon hadn't worked it out exactly but given what he was about to rush into and how serious their opponents were, he knew that the chances of him getting hurt were considerable. He wasn't as young as he once was. The past few days had certainly taken their toll on him, more than he cared to admit. Experience and a drive to protect what was left of his family and friends would compensate for some of that. For the rest, he was going to have to hope for some good old fashioned luck.

The man began to make his way forwards. When a thought stopped him. It was his sons. He saw the two of them as they had once been, smiling and excitable children. Innocent to the ways of the world and so very dependant upon their parents. How they had looked up at him with adoration and how he had let them down so much. He couldn't do it again.

"If anything happens to me, take care of my boys for me." The Pyramid King took a few more steps before once more being compelled to stop, it still wasn't quite enough. "-And tell them that I'm sorry, for everything."

"You'll tell them yourself." Cynthia paused for a few seconds. "Take Meowth with you."

"I'm not sure he'll be much help..." Brandon couldn't help but note dryly.

"Yeah. He's right! No help at all!"

"It will make me feel better knowing you've got someone to cover your back."

They were wasting time. Brandon didn't argue any longer. He didn't give Meowth the opportunity to protest either, reaching down and grabbing the Pokemon by the scruff of its neck and picking it up. He didn't trust the creature to do so much as tiptoe round without somehow managing to get itself noticed. Cynthia he trusted. If he did his part and managed to create a distraction, then she would rescue his sons. Perhaps then they could see what they could do about saving the world… In the meantime, all he had to do was make some noise. He could do that, couldn't he?

The Pyramid King stuck to the shadows, slipping round cautiously. Despite their number, they didn't seem to be particularly on alert, all far too focused on their own tasks. Evidently they had thought, probably with some good reason, that there wouldn't be anyone stupid enough to venture up here to challenge him. Even if they wanted to, the likeliness of many getting through the storm was few and far between. All the same, Brandon decided to be careful. Ideally, he would like to slip inside of that cave before making his presence known. It would make it easier to draw them away from the rest of the base.

"Hey…" Meowth peeped up suddenly. "I got an idea. Why don't you knock one of em' out, take their outfit and-"

"No!" It took all of his self-control to avoid bellowing his objection, turning it into a hushed whisper. "There is no way I'm playing dress-up! Not to mention, it wouldn't work."

"How'd you know?"

"This isn't my first time doing this sort of thing, you know."

"So then what's your plan?"

Brandon rolled his eyes, actively fighting the urge to dispose of the Pokemon. Instead, he pulled out one of his own pokeballs, calling out Dusclops. The ghost pokemon looked around confused for a few instants. It turned to face its trainer. The man was quick to plaster a finger on his lips, signalling the importance of silence. It was all it took to get the creature's game face. Neither of them were new to this sort of thing.

"Keep to the shadows and watch my back." Brandon instructed, with some reluctance, he turned to Meowth. "You know any attacks?"

"Well, I got fury swipes and scratch..."

"Brilliant. In that case, I suggest you keep up. I'm not going to be able to protect you if we get separated. I'm going to need you to count their pokemon. Make sure I don't lose track of any and that they don't get up behind me. Understand?"

He got a nod and taking a deep breath, he edged closer to the entrance of the cave. For the time being the storm and shadows had served to mask his presence. In a few seconds, he knew that he wasn't going to be able to benefit from them for much longer. He pulled out his pokeballs, waited. Most of the goons seemed to be making their way inside of the cave. He just needed to try and find an opening where there were a few less of them. If he could cut through them, then he might even be able to reach wherever it was that they were heading and disturb them there…

He was getting ahead of himself.

Now though, he was going to make some noise. With a deep breath, he stepped out, Pokeballs in hand. His sons lives were on the line. That single piece of knowledge blinded him to the danger. He would play his part, come what may...