Chapter Two: United We Stand

Floe Island, Sevii Islands

Wes walked around the docks of Floe Island, the fourth island in the Sevii archipelago. It was past 9 PM and it was getting increasingly dark outside, so Wes was alone. There were several boats parked around, all of them gently rocking in the waves, but Wes had forgotten to ask Lance which one he was supposed to seek out. There were no attack helicopters there either, which made Wes wonder just what kind of task force had Lance sent there.

Wes gazed into the horizon – the peak of Navel Rock was somewhat visible even from this distance. But there was no smoke pouring out, no police helicopters circling around, no panicked citizens trying to get a good look of the action – all usual stuff during Wes' previous operations. He had lived his entire life in Orre, hired by entrepreneurs and local law enforcement agents to help deal with problems related to Orre's criminal gangs. Wes knew them better than anyone – largely because he joined Team Snagem at age 16.

But something changed. As always, it had to do with a girl. Rui, the only person in the world Wes still cared about other than his mother and sister, who worked at the Pokémon HQ Lab.

Wes had to stop reminiscing as someone waved at him from the opposite end of the pier. Thinking he had found his contact, Wes took a few steps forward.

Probably some obnoxious, military no-neck with… hey!

Instead, Wes was approached by a tall brown-haired woman wearing shorts that had apparently once been jeans. She had a sort of no-nonsense look to her, making Wes even more eager to see her. He quickly adjusted his hair, sucked his stomach in and tried to remember his best pick-up lines.

"Hi," Wes said cheerily as he got closer to her, "I-"

"Yeah, yeah, get in the sub," the girl replied quickly and shoved Wes forward. "Hurry it up, someone can come in any minute!"

Well, darn.

"The what?" Wes asked. "Uh, hi, I'm Wes, I was sent to-"

"Hilda White," the girl hissed – Wes assumed she was telling her name. "Lieutenant. Now come on!"

"Yes, ma'am," Wes said sarcastically and followed her to an empty spot of water between two boats. "Wait, do I call you 'ma'am'? Or 'Lieutenant', or 'LT', or 'Ms. White', or 'Lieutenant White', or 'you there' or-"

"People just call me Hilda," she said again, and Wes finally shut his mouth.

But he opened it again in shock as something unexpectedly emerged from the sea: it was a submarine about the size of a van, with about half of it above the surface of the water, allowing the hatch to be opened from the inside. Before Wes could ask any further questions, Hilda grabbed him roughly and shoved him towards the sub. Watching his step, Wes climbed on the submarine and carefully made his way inside. Hilda followed right behind him and closed the hatch behind her.

Descending down a small ladder, Wes finally saw the interior of the submarine. About a second later, he knew he had to get out. Not only was the place dimly lit and cramped, it smelled like sweat and something utterly incomprehensible. There were three small circular windows on both sides of the sub and a large one at the bow, where the controls were. The passenger "seats" consisted of two narrow wooden benches attached below the windows, one on both side. There was also a chair near the periscope, crammed between the controls and the passenger compartment.

Not only that, but the sub was full of people who stared at him expectantly. Years of working alone at the Orre desert didn't leave Wes with much time to socialize. Talking with one person at a time was easy, but the sub contained eight people plus Wes himself.

Fortunately, he didn't have to hold a speech, as an incredibly large, muscular man with orange hair stumbled towards him, unable to stand properly in the confined space. Wes recognized him immediately: it was Marshal of the Unova Elite Four, only dressed in combat gear instead of his usual attire. Wes extended his arm to shake hands with him, but Marshal merely glared.

"Let me just say that if I was in charge of the operation, I would not have brought a civilian along," Marshal said rudely. "But, Lance said you have an impressive track record, and we'll take all the help we can get, so I'll make an exception. In the team, our first rule is that no one is left behind. But as you're not part of the team… screw up, and we'll leave you. Got it?"

"You're not this charming on TV," Wes muttered.

Marshal just nodded and looked over Wes' shoulder at Hilda, who nodded at the commander before sitting on one of the benches at the left side of the sub. Marshal sat on the chair by the periscope.

Port side, Wes reminded himself. No, wait…

"Get us over there, Dock," Marshal ordered the bald, middle-aged man at the controls. "We've wasted enough time. You, Wes, you'll just have to stand. There's some handles in the ceiling next to the windows."

Wes awkwardly positioned himself near the starboard window and grabbed the handle as instructed. He was uncomfortably close to another girl: a pretty, blue-eyed brunette just like Hilda, although her hair was styled to strange Princess Leia-like double buns. In stark contrast to Hilda, the girl smiled at Wes warmly, and he returned the gesture, awkwardly aware that Hilda was glaring at him the entire time.

"I guess introductions are in order," Marshal grunted and pointed at the man near the controls. "That there's Dock, chosen on this mission mostly because he's the only person we could find who can use a submarine."

"Yo," Dock said cheerfully. "Though it's actually a submersible, since we can't operate underwater for more than two hours at best."

Everyone rolled their eyes – apparently he had made this distinction before.

"How many subwhatevers have you, uh, piloted, Dock?" Wes asked.

"Including this?" Dock asked, and Wes nodded. "One. I just started today. But I've done many simulations. Oh, and I loved diving as a kid. And I own a Vaporeon. I think I got it."

Wes smiled and nodded and privately wondered if the bounty Lance was offering was really worth all this.

"You're currently with Team Alpha," Marshal explained. "Beta went in first and we've been sitting on this island for almost eight hours straight. That," Marshal pointed at Hilda," is Hilda White, the leader of the Alpha team. Next to her is Hilbert, our comm. specialist."

A pale, young man with messy brown hair and brown eyes nodded at Wes, who nodded back curtly. He's kinda cute... though he's sitting awfully close to Hilda.

"He and Ms. White are, well, close," Marshal said, smiling for the first time since Wes arrived, as if reading Wes' thoughts, "so you'll often see her yelling at the others while Hilbert sits back and watches."

The others laughed at their expense. Hilbert smiled nervously while Hilda buried her face with her cap. Marshal nonetheless continued on professionally.

"Next to Hilbert is our new medic, Amarillo."

'Amarillo', whose face was obscured by a large straw hat, didn't seem to react to Wes' presence at all. Wes decided to just nod and allow Marshal to move on.

"You're standing next to Rosa, Alpha's second-in-command," Marshal continued, and the girl with Leia hair smiled at Wes again. "Next to her is Buck, our explosives specialist." A laid-back, red-haired man waved at Wes. "And finally, our technical expert, Jasmine."

Wes had to lean to the left a bit to get a good look of Jasmine, who was almost entirely covered by Buck. Wes only caught a glimpse of the mousy, brown-haired Jasmine as she nervously smiled at Wes, then blushed and quickly turned away.

Wes had to suppress a sigh. For once I have to work with a team and it's full of weirdoes. Apart from Marshal and Dock, these guys can't be older than 20!

Well, neither am I, Wes thought, but… still.

Dock muttered to himself as he looked at the various monitors and meters on the dashboard and flipped switches. "Hmm… engines, check… life support, check… electronics, check… radar, operational… controls, check… periscope, down… pressure a-ok. Closing all hull openings… done."

Dock looked at the panel next to him – all of the dozens of little lights on it were green. He gave a thumbs-up to Marshal, who nodded and grabbed on to another handle.

"The radio is fine," Marshal said. "Take us out of here."

"Gotcha," Dock replied, focusing intently on the controls. "Opening vent valves… propellers on… here we go!"

Wes noticed that the rest of the passengers looked slightly greenish, apart from 'Amarillo', who appeared to be either sleeping or meditating – though Wes couldn't see the medic's face anyway. He watched in awe as the lights in the submarine dimmed even more as they submerged. Wes expected a nudge of some sort, but instead, the sub started moving smoothly forward, the docks of Floe Island quickly behind them. Dock seemed to know what he was doing, though Wes noticed that the thing he used to control the sub's rudders seemed to be a steering wheel from an old car.

"We should be there in five minutes," Marshal told Wes. "Thanks to the modifications they made on the engine, this baby is the only submersible capable of reaching Navel Rock. The currents around these parts are deadly. Hardly any ships sail around here, either."

"What's the plan?" Wes asked Marshal – this was really the only thing he needed to know: what the others were doing. The rest he'd make up on the spot.

"Beta was sent there twelve hours ago," Marshal explained. "Normally, we'd be the ones they send first while Beta lays in reserve, but Lance changed the order at the last minute. I'll fill you in on the details as soon as we get a visual on the facility. Shouldn't take long."

Wes nodded, then looked around the sub, cleared his throat and tried to come up with something witty to say, especially with Rosa and Hilda in the vicinity.

"So, we're all a lovely bunch of clichés here," he said cheerfully. "Say, which one of you guys is gonna die first, whaddya think?"

The whole team, including Jasmine, stared at Wes in horror.

"You know, there's always the one," Wes explained. "I'm not a part of you guys and I don't have any loved ones waiting for me, so I should be safe. Anyone carry around a photo of their loved one? Or has anyone gotten hitched recently? So they have a girlfriend or boyfriend they can talk about wistfully just before a Team Rocket grunt's Raticate starts gnawing on their innards?"

Wes heard a heavy sigh from behind him. Rosa looked very anxious all of a sudden.

"Nate, Rosa's boyfriend, was the leader of the Beta team," Marshal clarified. "We're going to assume they have been KIA."

"You guys and your acronyms, just say that they're dead," Wes grumbled and shook his head as the team glared him. "What, it's not my job to keep up the morale!"

"Look, it's okay, guys," Rosa mumbled, though she was staring at her shoes. "We don't know anything yet, they could be-"

But she was interrupted as the sub suddenly started shaking violently. Wes had to grab the handle with both hands while the others almost tumbled on the floor. 'Amarillo' still hadn't noticed anything, apparently. Marshal, who almost bumped his face into the periscope, gave Dock a nasty look, but the shakes stopped almost immediately.

"I don't know what it was!" Dock protested nervously. "But whatever it was, it fried our radar, and the radio's dead. All the other systems seem to working fine, though. I can still get us in, but we have to go through the front door."

"Yay," Wes deadpanned.

"Not necessarily," Marshal mumbled. "Just keep going."

"Probably some kind of jamming device Team Rocket's made," Hilbert said. "Creates a sort of bubble where no transmissions can get in or out. Or maybe it's part of the lab's equipment, but it's something they chose not to tell us."

"But…" Rosa suddenly sounded hopeful and stared at her teammates with wide eyes. "That explains why we lost contact with the others. They could-"

"I'm not going to sit here and guess," Marshal grunted. "Take us a bit closer to the surface, Dock. Up periscope!"

Dock pressed a button on the dashboard while Marshal grabbed the periscope's handles and raised it manually. He looked through the lenses intently for a few seconds, then signaled Wes to take a look. Wes squeezed past the team members as well as he could and glimpsed into the periscope.

The Naval Rock Research Facility was in sight, the actual facility built in the shadow of a tall mountain. The facility itself was smaller than Wes imagined – just a small, L-shaped, two-story building. Wes had even seen motels bigger than that. When Wes was done, Marshal quickly pulled the periscope back down.

"I guess it's time to announce our plan," Marshal announced and tried to stand as tall as he could in the middle of the submarine.

Marshal pressed a few buttons on his Pokétch, which suddenly generated a glowing, 3D-image of the research facility in the middle of the sub. All eyes except Dock's were on Marshal – even Amarillo had apparently woken up. The medic had blonde hair and bright, yellow-tinted eyes, and they watched Wes in a way that made him felt like they could hear his thoughts, making Wes turn away.

"I think it's time to tell you the full story about the lab, Wes," Marshal said. "The two upper floors are just there to conceal anything suspicious. The actual facilities for developing potions and other medicine are in the first floor basement."

The image shifted to a view of the lab's interior. Beneath two L-shaped floors was the basement facility, which was much larger.

"But that's not all," Marshal said. "This place is actually owned by a dummy corporation of Silph Co. Some of the more… clandestine research goes on in the levels even below that."

Two additional underground levels showed up in the image.

"And in case those were ever compromised," Marshal continued, "the second-floor basement of the main facility contains a tramway that connects to three more laboratories that are apparently built deep inside the mountain. I don't know what's going on in there, and it's not our job to find out. Our objective is to rescue the hostages, take out Team Rocket and if there's time…" Marshal briefly looked at Rosa. "…find out what happened to the others."

Wes saw Rosa smile at Marshal in relief. Apparently the last part wasn't a part of the "official objectives". Not that it mattered to Wes – he was mostly focused on other opportunities. He wasn't exactly sure what 'clandestine' meant, but even he realized that the lab was working on something they didn't want people to find out. And that meant he could pick up something ten times more valuable than what Lance was offering him.

"There are several ways in," Marshal explained. "They've mostly certainly barricaded the front door, but there are three employee entrances around the facility, so one of them's got to be a weak point. The Beta team used a chopper to go in through the roof. The chopper might still be in there, but either way, we can't go in that way. Our initial plan was to use the airlock specifically built for submarines in the second floor basement, but without radar, we'd have to spend too much time looking for it manually. Plus if they have sentries around the perimeter, they'll immediately notice the headlights."

Wes had to hold back a yawn. However, there was something that he wasn't yet clear on.

"Hang on a sec," he interrupted. "Say that we manage to get anyone out of there alive… we can't exactly cram anyone else into this sub, and your helicopter could be in pieces by now… are we going to swim back to Floe? 'Cuz the currents are pretty nasty around here."

"I was just getting to that," Marshal said as patiently as he could. "The third floor basement contains a teleportation chamber…"

"What?" Wes had heard some crazy stuff in his time, but…

"Silph Co has been studying teleportation for decades," Marshal said. "If the Pokémon can do it, why not us? They initially built small warp pads to ease the travel between Silph's different departments, then eventually succeeded in developing a long-distance teleportation device. This should allow instantaneous travel between Silph Co's headquarters and the Navel Rock base. If any of the scientists are still alive, they can use it, though we obviously have to clean the place from Rockets before that. If they're not… well, that's what Jasmine is here for. Don't let her manner deceive you, Wes. She can take care of herself, being a gym leader and all."

Jasmine was so flustered by Marshal's praise that she blushed and had to turn away from everyone.

"You think the Rockets got in that way?" Wes inquired.

"Impossible," Marshal said firmly. "Ever since Silph's takeover, they have increased security and all collaborators who worked with Team Rocket were fired."

"But you assume TR knows about the teleport?"

"Yes. The only explanation for their easy takeover is that they know the specifics of the facility."

Wes expected more information, but apparently Marshal had moved on, as he pressed a button on his Pokétch that made the map vanish.

"I've uploaded the map to your Pokétches," he said. "Wes, since you don't have one, you'll just have to keep up."

"Do you have any idea what they're after?" Wes asked Marshal.

"Could be ransom," Marshal shrugged. "Maybe they're just debating on what to ask. Who knows with these freaks – we never found out what exactly they were after when they first invaded Silph."

"Kind of strange of them to attack today of all these days," Buck said suddenly – Wes was surprised by the softness of his voice. Based on his looks, Wes was quick to judge him as a douchebag who crushed beer cans on his forehead.

"Whaddya mean?" Wes asked.

"Oh, here we go," Hilda sighed, but Buck ignored her.

"Tomorrow's the fifth Millenia Festival," Buck explained. "Tomorrow, it has been exactly five thousand years since the Original One, Arceus, banished its dark counterpart, Giratina, to the Distortion World. Most offices are usually closed during that time."

"You a religious man?" Wes asked.

Buck shrugged. "Never thought about it until I saw that church back in Hearthome City, Sinnoh. It really made me wonder about stuff… you know, all of life's mysteries. My dad's a priest back there. I was born in Sinnoh, actually, at the Survival Area. My brother's in the Elite Four, so I thought I had to join in something almost as great."

"Taking her up now," Dock told Marshal, who nodded and started talking quickly, cutting off whatever else Buck may have had to say.

"You'll go in through one of the staff doors. They won't be expecting you, but they're still probably guarding the entrances pretty tightly. Hilda, Buck and Jasmine will take one door, Rosa, Hilbert, Amarillo and Wes will take another. Then regroup once the first floor has been taken care of. And Wes, I want no 'I work alone'-crap from you!"

"I'm appalled by the suggestion?" Wes said in faux-shock. "I would never turn down valuable meat shields! But say, aren't you coming? You're our big, muscular Commander and all"

"I'll stay in the sub and coordinate the operation," Marshal said.

"Yeah, he has a bad back," Hilda quipped.

Marshal ignored the remark. "At any rate, I need to pull your asses out of the fire in case the crud hits the propellers. We need a getaway vehicle after all, though sadly this thing doesn't even have weapons. It was built for 'peaceful exploration'" Marshal even made air-quotes as he said the last part, which made Wes cringe.

So he's the obnoxious, military no-neck. He does remind me of Lt. Surge in a way.

"Do any of y'all have any experience with these things?" Wes asked suddenly as the team checked their Poké Balls and Pokétches – Wes assumed that those watches could be used for offensive purposes somehow.

"I've been taking down criminals in Unova since I was 17," Marshal said proudly. "Master Alder trained me personally. I also took down that group of Pokémon Pinchers in Oblivia a few years back. Hah, the Rangers were going to call a task force to clean them out – instead, they just needed me. That's what they get for focusing more on farming than fighting."

Wes rolled his eyes. "Yeah, what about the people who aren't staying behind to 'coordinate'? Is that what they call it these days?"

Before anyone could answer, Marshal was ready with a reply: "They've been trained for precisely these kinds of situations. Their Pokémon are in peak physical conditions and they've been doing combat simulations day and night."

"So that'd be a no," Wes said. "My confidence in this plan is growing all the time."

"Um, a-about that," Jasmine said quietly – Wes was shocked to hear that she could actually talk. As everyone stared at her, Jasmine's voice became even quieter. "I was just w-wondering, if, um… I could stay behind and help Dock with… all those scary buttons?"

Before anyone could answer, a loud splash was heard. The submarine was up.

"You better get moving," Marshal said. "We gotta dive again and hide the sub. I'll be staying in contact, though. Good luck, everyone."

~o~O~o~

Navel Rock Research Facility, Sevii Islands, twelve hours ago

With a swift slash, Sandshrew destroyed the lock of Cyndaquil's cage. However, the fire-type didn't move anywhere. It stayed at the back of the cage, curled up in something almost resembled a fetal position. Shrew noticed that the flames usually sticking out of the Cyndaquil's back were missing.

"Come on!" Shrew squealed. "If you want to end up a well done steak, then I won't argue, but if you want out, this is your last chance!"

When Cyndaquil replied, its voice was incredibly weak and pleading. "I can take the fire… but the screaming… please…"

"Just grab my paw!" Shrew squeaked loudly, as though wanting to drown out the increasing volume of the shrieks and trashing of the Pokémon around them.

Far too slowly for Shrew's liking, Cyndaquil allowed Shrew to grab its paw, then roughly drag the fire-type out of its cell. However, instead of instinctively rushing towards the exit, the Cyndaquil just stayed in place, shivering. Shrew hissed, but nonetheless grabbed both of Cyndaquil's paws and hauled the little Pokémon on its back. Unfortunately, Shrew was a little Pokémon itself, almost losing its balance as it started to make its way out of the burning lab.

"Wait!" Cyndaquil sneaked just as they had reached the hole in the wall. "What about… we can't just leave them…"

Shrew's answer was cut off by an explosion and pieces of machinery flying everywhere. The blast knocked over many cages and silenced many screams.

"This is place is either going to burn down or fall apart!" Shrew yelled. "We're going!"

And Shrew ran as fast as it could. Ignoring the falling rubble, Cyndaquil's weak protests, the sounds of distant screaming and explosions, Shrew sprinted out of the lab, across the hallway and into the first room he came across. Making sure they were safe, Shrew let Cyndaquil drop and closed the door behind him.

The room they were in now had cages too. Worse yet, they were all empty. With no windows on and all lights apparently fried, the room was instead illuminated by dozens of computer monitors.

Shrew looked at the Cyndaquil – a female one, Shrew noticed – who didn't move anywhere, just "looked" at Shrew sadly.

"Why did you save me?" she asked. "There were so many others in that lab… now they're all going to…"

"Would it have been better if I left you there?" Shrew wondered.

"I don't think I can move properly," Cyndaquil lamented. "I'll just be a burden on you. And there were dozens of Pokémon still there… they would be more helpful if you're trying to leave…"

What was her problem? Shrew thought. He had just saved her and himself from being impaled by falling debris, getting burned to a crisp or ending up as the lunch of some berserk Pokémon, but so far Shrew hadn't even heard a 'thank you'. He was about to yell something at the fire mouse when the loudspeakers crackled again, and a human voice, female this time, echoed in the lab:

"This is Dr. Faust. I've managed to find a place to hide with some security guards. Everyone still alive, stay where you are! We've just received word that the Elite Four sent a team to rescue us. I repeat, stay where you are! Do no engage the Rockets! Help the rescue team any way you-"

The broadcast was cut off. The message was probably intended to be assuring, but it made Shrew more anxious than he was before.

Seconds later, a door was opened at the opposite end of the room. Shrew quickly pulled Cyndaquil to his side as he hid under a table. In desperation, Shrew quietly pulled a waste paper bin closer to himself so it could cover him and Cyndaquil at least partially.

Four humans, all wearing identical black uniforms with big, red R's on their shirts, entered the room, one of them scanning the lab with a flashlight while another had a Raticate on a leash. The Raticate sniffed around the room, making unsettling growling and sputtering noises.

Team Rocket…

"Did you hear that just now?" a male Rocket asked. "I could deal with these three-hundred pound security guards, but a strike team? No one told us about that!"

"Get your panties off your crack, they're only in the first floor. Come on, Raticate, get the scent! There's bound to be a straggler or a few here!"

"I know our Raticate needs insides to gnaw on but I think we're in the wrong floor. The orb-thingy or whatever they sent us to pick up is in the floor below us."

The frenzied Raticate knocked over a table only a few feet away. Shrew became nervously aware of how loud his breathing was and covered Cyndaquil's mouth with his paw.

"Just my kind of job. Let the others do the fighting, I'll just pick up some… uh, what the hell is it anyway?"

"Whatever it is, the execs want it bad enough to put Domino in charge of this mission. And she will have your balls for lunch if you don't hurry it up!"¨

The Raticate suddenly stopped sniffing and stared directly at the table Sandshrew and Cyndaquil were hiding under. Shrew closed his eyes and prepared for the worst.

"Fine," the Rocket handling the Raticate groaned. "Come on!" she yelled at the Pokémon who was desperately trying to claw its way towards Sandshrew and Cyndaquil.

Shrew didn't breathe or open his eyes even when he heard the door closing behind the Rockets and the sounds of their footsteps fading. Even when he heard only the quiet humming of the computers, it took almost a minute for Shrew to get his act together. Though he took a deep breathe and got up to sit, he didn't leave his safe spot under the table. Cyndaquil was still on the ground, only shivering slightly.

"Are you okay?" Shrew asked her.

"Y-yeah…" Cyndaquil gulped. "Did you hear that broadcast? Maybe we should just stay here…"

"Rescue team, right," Shrew scoffed. "We're in a lab run by crazy humans that's currently crawling with crazier humans and apparently invaded by possibly even crazier humans most likely killing everyone in sight. We have to go."

"You shouldn't talk like that about the people working here," Cyndaquil said softly. "They've given us food, shelter, occasionally let us exercise…"

Shrew stared at Cyndaquil.

"Given us… are you insane?" Shrew squealed. "You've been through all of this, spending your days locked in a cage, the injections, the experiments, food that apparently made you unable to run."

Cyndaquil remained calm. "Well… we have to earn that food and shelter somehow. Without these humans, I would have died. My… my mother, a Typhlosion, abandoned me before I hatched. These people took me in. I should be grateful."

"Or they abducted your mom for testing and decided to take your egg as snack for the road," Shrew said mercilessly. "You probably hatched when those humans were arguing over whether they wanted their eggs scrambled or boiled."

Cyndaquil didn't seem to be bothered. She wasn't shivering as much as anymore and sounded less fearful when she turned towards Shrew. "Well… how did you end up here, then?"

"I…" Shrew stared at Cyndaquil in silence for a moment. "What's your name?" he asked suddenly.

"M-my… um, I don't… I'm a Cyndaquil…"

"I'm gonna call you Quill," Shrew said. "I know it's probably a human thing, but if we're going to pull through, we need to trust each other. Now I know a little about you. I'm Shrew, by the way. Well, some call me that. I guess I can start doing it too."

Now it was Quill's turn to stare at Shrew in silence. Then, slowly, she sat up and smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Shrew," Quill said. "What's your story?"

"Not terribly different from yours," Shrew answered thoughtfully. "I was born near the Indigo Plateau. All I remember about it was that it was dry. Some kind of prairie in the middle of nowhere, I guess. Didn't see many humans, as the place was still far from the Pokémon League or whatever they call it. I'd probably just been hatched for a few weeks when I first saw them… machines, hundreds of them, controlled by scientists or something, some kind of tubes sucking Pokémon right off the ground by the hundreds. If I had any brothers or sisters, that's where they ended up in. I have no idea what was happening – I just ran. But I didn't get far – I landed in some kind of electrified net…"

Shrew took a small pause, allowing Quill, who had been listening intently, to cut in: "And you woke up here?"

"I wish…" Shrew said bitterly. "I instead woke up on a different kind of lab on Cinnabar Island. Much smaller, less sterile, less Pokémon experiments… but there still were some. And there was… him. This human called Charon. I don't know what his deal was and what he was trying to prove, but I was subject Arceus knows what in his little game. He…"

The look of disgust on Shrew's face told Quill more than Shrew himself could.

"Anyway, I don't know how long I was there. Time wasn't relevant anymore. All I know for certain that it was years. By that time, I was the only Pokémon Charon had left. Before that, I was waiting for some opportunity to escape or a miracle that would save me… or my mother to come pick me up… but I eventually stopped. I just wanted it to be over."

"But I guess even humans have limits on how messed up they're allowed to be. Charon was eventually discovered and fired. When they delivered me out of the lab, I was happier than I had ever been. Of course, that was before I found out what my destination was."

"Here?" Quill asked gently and Shrew nodded.

"I spent a few days in the med lab, and then, for the rest of my life I've been stuck in this floor for years. I've tried to keep track of time from calendars and I've tried to count the new arrivals, but once again, I just stopped caring."

"Shrew," Quill said, "I'm so-"

"Don't," Shrew said sadly and shook his head. "I don't know why I'm sitting here whining. We have to get going, and I've seen so many Pokémon suffer much worse fates than mine. Just think about the poor saps in the room we just ran out of. How are your legs?"

Quill was slightly taken aback by this sudden concern. "Oh, they're, um, fine. Much better. I'm not sure if I'm able to run yet, though."

"You'll be fine with me," Shrew said impatiently. "Come on!"

Slowly, the two Pokémon started making their way towards the door where the Rocket Grunts had come out of. Constantly glancing Quill, who still seemed to have trouble walking, Shrew also looked around the room for any surprises. Most of the aisles between the large cages, desks and computers were still shrouded in darkness. The cages seemed empty, but a few desks and cages in the corner of the room had apparently exploded and were now just a big pile of splinters and metal.

When Quill looked like she couldn't take another step without wincing in pain, Shrew helped it a little, holding her paws tightly. As they headed towards the door, Shrew had time to think. Why had he saved just Quill? Was it because she, unlike every other Pokémon in the lab, had actually shared her food with Shrew despite her own plight?

Well, duh. But then, maybe there were other Pokémon doing the same to each other in there? Should I have tried harder?

And why wasn't Quill enraged at the humans? A side-effect of the food they made her eat? Or did she really believe in all that? But there are good humans around, like Krane. Then again, all that time and he could have shut the project down, helped the Pokémon to escape. But he just watched.

And I've eaten that food for longer than her and I'm fine…

Shrew and Quill turned left, only a couple of yards from the door, the remains of the destroyed desks and cages to their right and an active computer to their left. As they passed the computer, however, Shrew heard the strangest noise from it: some sort of high-pitched, ethereal sound that made Shrew jerk his head in the computer's direction. What Shrew saw almost made him let go of Quill in shock.

A ghostly form of a Pokémon unlike Shrew had ever seen suddenly showed up on the monitor. It looked like a humongous centipede with beady, glowing red eyes. The creature had six claws, six legs and six wings and, most disturbing of all, seemed to notice Shrew's presence as it stared directly at him.

Before Shrew could process any of this, the strange Pokémon was gone. Quill, who wondered why Shrew had stopped, turned to look at the computer.

"What?" she asked.

Shrew didn't know what to say. Quill clearly hadn't heard the sound. It was possible that he had imagined it all, but…

Can't be. Something was definitely wrong.

"Sandshrew?"

Quill sounded concerned. Shrew shook his head and turned to face her.

"Before we head to the surface, I need to find out something," Shrew said. "I mean we have a billion tons of rock on top of us, could be we'd have to get all the way to the summit to get out of here. You heard those guys talking – they were heading downstairs. Could be they have some… answers. For both of us. We could find out why you have such a hard time walking! And I think this computer could have something."

"I understand," Quill said, "you don't know anything about your past life or what they did to you. You deserve to find out."

"We deserve to find out," Shrew corrected. "I've seen the humans use these computers a million times now. They're voice-activated, but probably only understand human language. I wish I was a Chatot right now…"

"I'm sorry," Quill said. "But it's not like you can open the files by just saying stuff like 'Computer, play the last log!'"

Quill had barely finished her sentence when the computer next to them started humming loudly. A few seconds later, a recording of a scientist appeared on the screen, listing out test results in a loud but nasal voice, occasionally pushing up his glasses:

"This will be my last log update – most of the staff will be moved downstairs to work on the project they call 'Griseous Orb'. For now, we can say that the compound in the food has actively impaired the motor functions of all subjects. However, while experimenting with normal-type Pokémon, we found that the food causes severe neurological problems and disrupts cognitive functions. We've been forced to put a few of them to sleep. Other normal-types have shown increased aggression and previously apathetic or mild-tempered subjects have gone feral."

Shrew listened intently, while Quill seemed to be distracted by something. She tugged Shrew's arm, trying to get his attention, but the Sandshrew didn't even react to her presence.

"As last time, the Sandshrew has shown no signs of change. Due to this, we have decided to use it as a control subject. The administrator is planning some big test for the creature next week. For now, we will not be administering the antidote for the other subjects. Fire-, electric- and psychic-types have shown significant weakening and have had their special abilities blocked, however, so we may need to tell the people upstairs to make more of the antidote, which we'll…"

Shrew cringed and stopped listening. Maybe they're talking about some other Sandshrew? No, not with his luck. He hadn't seen other Sandshrew in the facility in… months? It was hard to tell around here.

"Shrew?" Quill said quietly – she had moved right next to the ground-type and was shivering.

Shrew ignored her for now. No wonder Quill didn't have fire sticking out of… wherever those flames came from. But if there was an antidote somewhere, upstairs apparently, then that meant…

"S-shrew…"

"What?"

"I think I saw-"

She was cut off when chunks of concrete, metal and wood started flying all over the room as something emerged from the pile of rubble next to them. It was a Dodrio, a seven feet tall, three-headed, wingless bird, each one of its beaks razor-sharp and almost as long as Shrew himself.

Shrew ignored all strategy as he grabbed Quill roughly and threw her away from the Dodrio. One of the heads turned to look at Quill's flight, while another screeched at Shrew, the noise boring into his skull. Shrew jumped up and scratched the Dodrio's midsection, causing it to screech again. Now all of its three heads focused on Shrew, all attempting to impale him with their beaks.

Shrew ran away from the Dodrio as fast as he could, but the Dodrio kept up in Shrew's pace effortlessly, forcing Shrew to quickly change direction and take cover underneath a table.

That was a mistake.

Noticing where Shrew had gone, Dodrio stomped on the table, its claws tearing the flimsy wooden construct apart like it was papier-mâché. For one brief second, Shrew could look into the Dodrio's eyes, noticing that all six of its pupils were apparently gone, its eyes milky white and empty.

Shrew tried to get away from the Dodrio, but one of the bird's heads managed to catch him by his tail. He was tossed in to air, then caught again by another head, the Dodrio's beak squeezing around Shrew's belly. Shrew tried to use his claws to desperately keep the bird's mouth open to avoid being snapped in half, using his tail to keep another head from impaling him.

The third of Dodrio's heads had focused its attention on Quill, who had come out of her hiding spot and was now staring at Dodrio and Shrew, paralyzed by fear.

"Quill!" Shrew yelled as he scratched, kicked and tail-whipped Dodrio everywhere he could. "Do… something!"

Quill fidgeted around in panic, making shrill, unintelligible sounds.

"Just…" Shrew grunted and dodged tried to wrap its tail around one of Dodrio's beaks. "…hit it, scratch it, bite it… anything! But hurry!"

And Quill did something. After blankly staring at the Dodrio for a second, she opened her mouth and while her back apparently burst into flame. Shrew instinctively curled into a ball to protect himself

A potent blast of flames enveloped one of Dodrio's heads entirely while the others attempted to desperately move away from the heat. In panic, the Dodrio stopped Shrew. After getting on his feet, Shrew ran away from the Dodrio and signaled Quill to run in the opposite direction.

Their plan worked. Dodrio's two still conscious heads couldn't decide which one to chase, seemingly paralyzing it entirely. Quill hesitated, but Shrew gave her a reassuring nod, causing Quill to hit Dodrio with another flamethrower.

This one knocked the giant bird off its feet. Without bothering to check if the Dodrio was still conscious, Shrew ran back to Quill, hurled her on his back and started making his way towards the door. Even carrying the malnourished Quill felt like dragging a sack of potatoes with him, and Shrew's limbs were already aching after the Dodrio battle. But even through the pain, Shrew ran out of the door and tried to find an elevator to the lower floors. There, he'd find answers. And then, he'd finally be free.

Frantic about getting out of the lab and back into the dark, crumbling corridor, Shrew ignored Quill's sudden shriek. Before he could do anything, something powerful struck him, and everything went dark.