Well, it's certainly been a long time since I posted anything here. I'd like to give a good excuse, but the closest I can come to is that I was working horrendous hours in my job and have also moved again in the time since. I'm also now back at university doing my MSc, so, time has been a bit precious of late.

This is probably the densest chapter so far, but please go with it. Though quite scientific and long, this chapter is really important to the development of the story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. I am, as always, yours. Muli.

Tristan woke with a start and turned to his alarm clock. It was 6:27am and it was a Sunday. Why was he awake at this hour? Stretching above his head, he let out a mighty yawn before slowly rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A pair of Starly were chirping merrily on the windowsill, their vocals providing the dawn chorus for the steadily rising sun. Cato lay curled on the bed, having squeezed himself between Tristan's legs as he always did, preferring the comfort and security the confined walls of his body provided. Lost in his dreams, the Absol's back legs twitched slightly in his sleep as he chased imaginary Rattatas through the vastness of his mind and a small puddle of drool began to form beneath his gently smiling lips. Tristan chuckled and slowly extracted himself from the bed, careful not to disturb his sleeping friend.

Stifling another yawn, Tristan carefully walked to the window and drew back the curtains, causing the two Starly resting there to fly away and find another ledge where they could sing undisturbed. Located right on the harbour front, Tristan lived in the oldest part of the city, from when it was nothing more than a small fishing hamlet. His cottage was at least 300 years old and had all the characteristics of a quaint fisherman's dwelling. From the outside, the building looked pretty undistinguished. It was a low 2-storey building made from thickly hewn stone with small square windows and a gently sloping roof. Like many of the buildings surrounding it, the entire facade of the cottage had been whitewashed and the window shutters painted a wonderful Bleu de France. Above the front door, which was also painted blue, a small black plaque had been erected several decades before that read "Fisherman Douglas, first owner of the Canalave City Gym, lived in this house". Tristan had always liked that, it felt somehow that he was sharing in the city's history. It was the main reason he had chosen to rent the cottage in the first place.

Wiping a small layer of condensation from the old, single-paned window, Tristan stared out into the harbour. A group of Pelliper were resting on the pier, eyeing the water eagerly for any sign of movement from an unsuspecting Remoraid or Magikarp, while overhead a cloud of Wingull stalked the incoming fishing boats, full with the night's haul. The cobbled street separating him from the harbour wall showed no signs of life, bar a single stray Meowth sitting upon an old water barrel, preening itself in the morning light. Not even his neighbour, Sailor Eldritch, was awake and tending to his ship at this hour. Though he tended to rise with the sun and work on repairs and maintenance of his vessel for the majority of the day, Sailor Eldritch always took Sundays as his day of rest, not rising until at least 9o'clock.

The doorbell rang with a prolonged sense of urgency and Tristan realised this was probably not the first time in the morning the visitor had tried to illicit a response; that was probably what had woken him up to begin with. Why anyone was awake at that hour on a Sunday, though, was completely beyond him. Opening the window to a fresh breeze of the chilly morning air, Tristan stuck his head out and indeed noticed a coated figure standing under the eaves of the small porch.

"Just a minute! Let me grab some clothes" Tristan called down to his unscheduled guest, to which the latter simply raised his right hand and waved in response. Closing the window with a shiver, Tristan grabbed his silk dressing gown and tied it hurriedly round his waist before galloping down the stairs (or at least as fast as someone rudely awoken early on a Sunday morning could move) and unlatching the front door.

The guest flicked his brown hair from his face and smiled at the dishevelled Tristan as he made his way into the cosy sitting room. "Good to see you, Tris!"

"Gary?"

The visiting young Pokémon researcher took off his coat and hung it on the pegs by the door. Stepping across the room, he sat in the armchair closest to the fireplace in the hopes that even though it wasn't lit it might still shed some warmth on the otherwise chilly September morning. "Of course, who were you expecting?"

Wrapping his dressing gown even tighter around his naked torso to escape the frore breeze, Tristan quickly closed the door and left his guest for the kitchen. "Well, to be fair I wasn't expecting anyone", he called out to his guest whilst filling the kettle and setting it on the old stove. "You do realise it's a Sunday right? Why the bloody hell are you up this early anyway?"

"Gramps sent me something he thought you'd appreciate. Knowing how busy you've been on your thesis of late, I thought I'd get it to you as soon as possible." Professor Oak's grandson started rifling through his bag, pulling out the papers and files he had hurriedly shoved in there the previous night.

"Well, that's mighty thoughtful of you Gary, though I'm sure I would have lasted another two hours without them. Tea?"

A smile crept across Gary Oak's face as he heard the offer of the warm brew. "Jeez Tris, I thought you'd never ask. It's colder than a Sneasel's arse out there and I've been inside a full three minutes already! Where are your manners?"

Tristan laughed and emerged from the kitchen momentarily to launch a tea towel at his friend's face. "My house is full of wonderful chemicals, Gary. I wouldn't risk it if I were you."

Raising his hands in mock surrender, Tristan's guest just shrugged. "Alright, in that case I'll have a cup of Earl Grey, please. Lemon, no sugar."

Emerging moments later with two cups of steaming tea, Tristan sat on the couch opposite Gary, crossing his legs beneath him and doing his best to preserve his modesty in what little attire he was wearing. Passing the cup with the slice of lemon wedged on the rim to his friend, Tristan carefully examined Gary's countenance. Although he was always an early riser, it was still unusual for him to be making house calls at this hour.

As usual, he was wearing his black, short-sleeved shirt, though it appeared to have more wrinkles than usual. Likewise, his blue cargo trousers looked as though they hadn't been washed in a few days and were smeared with dirt, dust and various unidentified stains. Under his eyes lay great, dark bags and deep lines furrowed his brow, as if he were perpetually deep in thought, and even his hair had deviated from its usual, spiky self, laying deflated on his head like a brown rag.

"Gary, what's really going on? You could have just faxed me the files and yet you burst into my house at some un-Godly hour, on a Sunday no less, looking as if you've just been ambushed by a group of Shiftry and literally dragged all the way here?"

Gary put down his tea and sighed. "I'm sorry for waking you up so early, Tris, but Rowan's got me running errands left, right and centre. A few days ago the power went out in Sandgem Town, something to do with the undersea wiring being compromised or the such, and since then we've had to look after all the Pokémon by hand. The Pokémon Center has had the worst of it, and I've been helping out there too. I've had my Electivire supply some electricity for some of the smaller life-support machines and I've got the backup generator working fine, both in the labs and the Pokémon Center, but it's only a matter of time until we need to power to come back. That's why I'm delivering these by hand."

Tristan took the substantial pile of documents the young professor handed to him and quickly started to flick through the uppermost pages. "What's all this about, anyway?"

Gary chuckled. Although it was a story he had told many times before, it was still one of his favourites. "Well, a few years back my Gramps was kidnapped in the Seafoam Islands by these two Team Rocket agents, Bob and Cassidy. They were working under the orders of this scientist, Professor Namba, and they wanted everything my old Gramps knew about the Pokérus. They started torturing him for the information but he was rescued by his assistant, Tracey, and this kid, Ritchie."

Tristan almost dropped his tea into his lap and tried his best to hide the astonishment from his face. "Kidnapped?"

"Yeah, no worries though. Team Rocket are a bunch of buffoons at the best of times. If even Ashy Boy can best them, my old Gramps should have no trouble." Gary thought back to the innumerable occasions his old rival, Ash Ketchum, had defeated the notorious Team Rocket, even if he did usually only face off with a trio of incompetent morons.

"I see. What did this Professor Namba want with the Pokérus? I mean, no offence, but Professor Oak isn't the most knowledgable of people on the subject, anyway. He'd have been much better kidnapping Professor Sandalwood, or even Dr. Holly." Tristan thought back to his own tutors on virology at the PMI, but even their knowledge regarding the mysterious Pokérus was brief and scattered.

"That's true, but I did say Team Rocket were incompetent, didn't I?" Gary paused and took a sip from his tea, the warm yet refreshing lemon-infused liquid easing his stress laden mind. "Anyway, the professor was doing some crazy experiment, something he called the Pokémon Power Acceleration Project. You know how normally the virus is beneficial to a Pokémon and helps them evolve quicker and boosts their EVs?" Tristan nodded, never once taking his eyes off his friend. "Well, this Professor Namba guy was purposely infecting Pokémon with the virus in an attempt to generate an artificial means of improving the strength of Pokémon under his command. All of is test subjects died out and he was trying to get Gramps to tell him what was going wrong."

Tristan nodded to signify that he was still listening, though his attention had suddenly been drawn to the papers on his lap. "This is his research, isn't it? How in Mew's name did you manage to get hold of this?"

Gary crossed his arms, somewhat offended by his friend's surprise at his obtaining secret Team Rocket files, as if it were actually hard. "Just you wait, Tris. There's more to come yet." So saying, he pulled another wad of files from his bag and dropped them on the coffee table between them with a loud thud. "Namba was picked up a few weeks ago, just off Fullmoon Island. We now have access to almost every piece of research he even conducted."

"Fullmoon? What the blazes was he doing there?" Tristan put his now empty cup on a coaster on the coffee table and interlocked his hands, resting his two forefingers on his lower lip, a tell-tale sign that he was deep in thought.

"I don't know all the details I'm afraid, but it was some Team Rocket mission to capture the Legendary Pokémon Cresselia. He had developed this machine that sent out radio frequencies to tap into people's dreams and inflict them with nightmares." Tristan vaguely remembered being unable to sleep a few weeks previously due to recurring nightmares and wondered whether the two events were connected. "He was hoping Cresselia would return to her shrine and try to dispel the bad dreams where he would try and capture her, but things didn't go according to plan. Instead, he found himself face to face with Officer Jenny and a squad of policemen who just happened to be there by chance, looking for a few of Cresselia's feathers."

"Her feathers?"

"Yeah, Cresselia's feathers can help cure nightmares, or so the legend goes. Anyway, after a huge battle with the police, he's captured, though those two moronic minions of his, Boots and Cassidy, managed to slip away." Gary finished the last of his tea and put his cup down on the coffee table, struggling to find space among the piles of papers.

Tristan was silent for a few moments, his forefingers rhythmically tapping at his lip. "I see."

As Tristan began to read the files presented to him, his guest scanned the familiar room. It had been a while since he had been there, but everything was still familiar to him. It was rather a cosy looking room, the small inglenook fireplace being the main focal point, and in the bottom corner of the room, a black, iron, spiral staircase led up to the bedroom above. The room was comfortably furnished with a cognac leather armchair and sofa that straddled the fire, as well as numerous well-stacked bookshelves and a small mahogany desk to the left of the kitchen. A small upright pianoforte sat underneath the window, its lid open and inviting, and besides the piano sat a shabby looking antique bureau wherein, upon spying, Gary rose from his seat and wandered over to get a closer look.

On top of the bureau sat a number of assorted photographs, each containing one of Tristan's most cherished memories. There were several of him and Cato visiting various attractions around the different regions, there were family photos and graduation photos; there was even one of Gary himself, smiling with Tristan as he held his own doctorate degree in which Tristan had helped as a researcher. In the centre though, in pride of place, sat a large ornate brass frame enclosing a photo of Tristan, Cato and Emily together outside the Canalave Contest Hall the day Emily took directorial control.

"How's Emily?" Gary inquired, picking up and studying the photo.

Tristan looked up from the papers, suddenly caught off guard by the question. "Oh, quite well thank you, though she's currently staying in the Pokémon Center as her Gyarados is quite sick."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. You'll give her my regards, won't you?" Gary put the photograph down and moved over to the bookshelf, pulling down a journal and reseating himself in the leather armchair, eager and ready to busy himself in the new scientific discoveries it detailed.

Tristan, on the other hand, delved deeper and deeper into the files the young professor had brought him. Looking down, the pages were a myriad of tables and graphs and scientific illustrations, each one more complicated than the next and the dense tomes of script that accompanied them read with the heaviness of a medical encyclopaedia.

"This is fascinating." Tristan started speaking aloud without shifting his attention from the plethora of knowledge beneath him. "I've studied this virus for years but the detail provided here, it's beyond anything I could have dreamed to establish. The virus is so rare that it isn't often you get to study infected Pokémon, so to have all this information, it's unbelievable." Giddy as a school boy, Tristan began to flick through the pages, devouring the new information the papers presented with an insatiable hunger.

"Look here, Gary!" The young professor looked up at his excited friend, smiling at the young researcher's eagerness. "Namba got to actually analyse the virus! This is incredible. Look at that icosahedral structure, isn't it just the most beautiful thing you've ever seen? And here! He details its lytic reproductive state, how it commandeers the host cell to produce beautiful copies of itself! And oh! Look at that perfect dsDNA structure. Thank you, Gary, I think Christmas just came early."

"Should I leave you and research alone a while?" Gary mockingly rose from his seat and gestured towards the kitchen.

A sly smile spread across Tristan's lips. 'If you would, please. Here's my cup. Make yourself useful and put the kettle on."

Gary laughed and took Tristan's cup with a swipe, "I'm supposed to be the guest here! You're supposed to be making me the tea!"

Tristan gave his friend a cheeky thumbs up and returned to his work while Gary headed towards the kitchen, shaking his head and chuckling quietly to himself.

However, the deeper through the pages Tristan read, the bleaker the details of Team Rocket's evil professor's experiment became.

Finishing the initial reports and moving on to Namba's personal accounts of the experiment and its consequences, Tristan's voice quavered as he looked up towards the kitchen. "Gary, have you or anyone else read this?"

Gary stuck his head round the corner of the kitchen, puzzled by the fear in Tristan's voice. "Not to my knowledge, Tris. I know Rowan was busying himself in some other files, so I brought these straight to you. Why"

"Listen to this," Tristan flipped back a few pages and cleared his throat, ready to read the haunting document that lay before him. "Day 17 of PPA Project. Subjects beginning to develop symptoms in alignment with objective expectations. Subjects had developed a black, blotchy rash and are growing at an accelerated rate, developing their powers beyond anything we could have anticipated. Serotonin deficiency registered in brain scans, as well as small amounts of decay in hippocampal and other limbic regions. Lenora Sea trials showing significant improvement in growth, though also display greatest neural decay."

Gary entered the room carrying the two cups of tea and put Tristan's down on the table in front of him. "The Lenora Sea, that's out by Johto, isn't it? What does he mean by the Lenora Sea Trials?"

Tristan paused momentarily to take a sip of the freshly brewed warm drink and nodded. "Yeah, somewhere near Johto. He has loads of different trials going on, depending on where he obtained the viral specimen. Team Rocket had some oil drilling project out in Lenora and they unearthed some Pokémon remains, perfectly preserved in tar. The entire group was infected with the Pokérus, so Namba drained their blood for use in his experiments. There are two other groups, too. The Mt. Moon trials and the Mt. Mortar trials, but both of those viral samples came from living specimen."

"Oh," Gary edged closer to the table, his own research into Fossil Pokémon making the mention of any preserved remains tantalizingly interesting to him. "Does it say how old the Lenora Sea specimen was?"

Flicking back through a few of the pages, Tristan slowly shook his head. "Not exactly, but it would be safe to assume that they don't predate three thousand years or so. They found a load of pots, which suggests the presence of humans, but there was also a few iron spear heads, allowing us to date the site to no earlier than the Iron Age."

Gary nodded. "Yeah, that's about right. That whole area used to be flatland. The sea levels only rose significantly after the last mega eruption of the Cinnibar volcano about two thousand seven hundred years ago filled the surrounding waters with tonnes of lava, thus creating what we now know as Cinnibar island in the process, as well as rising surrounding sea levels by anywhere up to a metre."

Tristan nodded, pretending he knew what Gary was talking about. Despite his love of learning and history in particular, geography had never been one of his strongpoints. "Precisely." Tristan flicked back to the page he was reading from and scanned through the rest of the page. "Day 21. First subjects succumb to virus. Two subjects in the Mt. Moon trials have died after being injected with concentrated viral serum three weeks previously. Post-mortem studies show severe decay to complete limbic region. Rest of trial do not look healthy. Mt. Mortar subjects developing open cysts on rash locations and we do not expect them to last the week. Lenora Sea trials showing significant increase in both development and aggression. Feeder was attacked by infected subject. Bloods have been taken and will be tested for contamination."

Gary by now had replaced the journal he had withdrawn back onto the bookshelf and was entirely engrossed in the narrative of the Pokérus' development.

"Day 24," Tristan continued, himself getting more and more engaged in the research, "last subjects from Mt. Moon trial have expired. Mt. Moon serum to be discontinued from further research. Mt. Mortar subjects continue to develop cysts, but these appear to have no ill-effects on the Pokémon, or detract from the virus' enhancing effect. Interesting development in Lenora trials. Subjects discovered in the morning, covered with wounds, their cages dented. Surveillance footage shows Pokémon attacked each other in the night. Aggression levels have increased dramatically since last check-up, and dramatically increased serotonin activity registered in all subjects. Subjects have been moved to securer and independent quarters to prevent further violent outbreaks.

Day 29. All subjects in Mt. Mortar trial found expired, having bled out from open cysts. Mt. Mortar serum to be discontinued due to adverse side effects in concentrated form. Lenora trials show significant promise for future use in Team Rocket. Subjects not only display greater acceleration of development and growth, but also severe increases of aggression, making them perfect for our top agents. Black rash still present and eyes appear bloodshot. Heart rate greatly accelerated."

Gary slammed his fists on the table. "How can he be so cruel, as if he doesn't care if they live or die? He calls himself a professor, yet he uses science not to better mankind, but to create living, breathing hatred?"

Tristan lowered his head in agreement. "Some people don't care for Pokémon, Gary. They're not like you and I. They only see Pokémon as tools. It's not nice, but it's true. Team Rocket is a prime example. Consider Team Galactic here in Sinnoh, too."

"Yeah, but it's not right!" The once arrogant trainer slammed his fists on the table; he had learnt the hard way the cost of selfishness, as his strength and power orientated mind-set cost him the Pokémon League those many years ago. Though he had never been cruel to his Pokémon, he had long since learned that physical strength isn't everything when it comes to training, and it is really the bond a human shares with a Pokémon that signifies true power.

"I'm afraid it gets worse. There are only three more entries before the journal stops."

Gary shuffled back into the armchair, his hatred for the atrocities Professor Namba had committed boiling over his mind, clouding his thoughts. "How could it get any worse?"

Tristan ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Trust me, it does. Day 31. Research grunt bitten one week ago in medical wing with high fever and nausea. First known instance of Pokérus affecting human documented. Effects observed on cardiovascular system, limbic system and motor system. Patient is displaying frequent bouts of extreme aggression and distinct impairments of both episodic and semantic memory. Potential use of Pokérus strain as chemical weapon noted. Subjects in Lenora trials displaying exponential growth. Two subjects, both Rattatas, have evolved in Raticates and are continuing to display accelerated development. Aggression also continues to rise and attempted attacks to feeders and researchers has tripled in as many days. Pokémon increasingly displaying aggression against the confines of their cages, but all attempts to relocate them to securer structures futile due to levels of aggression.

Day 32. Two subjects broke free from their cages during the night and were found deceased in the morning, having succumbed to numerous and heavy wounds inflicted on each other. Three subjects also found deceased in their cages, having succumbed to the virus. Rest of trial continues to be promising.

Day 34. Trials have stopped. All subjects broke from cages during the night and in the proceeding battle, lab was destroyed, killing all subjects and destroying all viral samples in the process. Fire alarm heard at 02:00 hours and facility evacuated. Three researchers and one scientist perished in blaze. Trials to be abandoned until replacement viral samples can be obtained." Tristan closed the book and sighed. "That's where the journal entries end."

Gary stared back at Tristan, dumbfounded for a few moments as he tried to piece together everything he had just heard. "I guess that's when they kidnapped my gramps, then?"

Tristan nodded, "I presume so."

"And the Pokérus can now infect humans? That can't be good."

"Indeed not." Tristan finished the rest of his rapidly cooling tea and set the cup on the table, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers, trying to process the information he had just read. A soft thud was heard through the ceiling and both humans looked up automatically.

"Cato?" Gary asked.

Tristan nodded. Soon, the sleek form of the Dark-type Pokémon was seen descending the stairs, stifling a yawn as he went. Though he was generally quite the early riser, even Cato had his limits, and sunrise on a dreary September morning was certainly not worth waking up for.

"Morning Cato!" Gary waved cheerfully as the Disaster Pokémon jumped onto the sofa and sat beside Tristan, resting his front paws on the researcher's lap.

"Absol." Cato nodded and flicked his fringe from his eyes to acknowledge the visitor, before starting to clean his front paws, obviously unimpressed with the early morning wake-up call.

Tristan chuckled before petting his friend fondly on the head. "I don't think Cato appreciates the hour of your visit much, either."

Cato stopped preening himself briefly and raised his head just high enough to glare at Gary with his fire brick red eyes. "Absol…"

Gary laughed heartily; he had known the Dark type Pokémon for as long as he had known Tristan and knew there was no harm meant in the penetrative stare. "I'm sorry Cato, it was important. Will you forgive me?" The Absol sighed and continued to preen itself, a sign which Gary took to mean yes. "Good."

Tristan felt his wrist vibrate and glanced at his Pokéwatch, which was flashing its screen light on and off and showing Emily's face. "Excuse me, Gary, I have a call. It's Emily".

The young Pokémon professor nodded his consent and waved his arm in a permissive matter as Tristan pointed his Swiss-Army like watch at a small device above his television. Pushing a few buttons, moments later a video call was initiated, with Emily's face projected onto the huge flatscreen and a tiny camera built into the television enabling Emily to see Tristan, Gary and Cato on the small screen on her watch.

Immediately, Tristan knew something was wrong. Emily's hair was sodden and mixed with dust and dirt and hair face looked like it had just survived a Sludge Bomb attack. Across her left cheek, a recent laceration still oozed a little blood and everywhere was mud, dirt and dried red smears. Behind her, small trails of smoke rose and clouds of dust fogged the rest of the view.

"Tristan, get to the Pokémon Center now. It's Calypso." Both fear and sadness were evident in Emily's frantic voice and the Water-type specialist kept looking over her shoulder as if she were afraid of a ghost.

Tristan jumped to his feet in agitation, though the action probably served no purpose but to cut his head from view of the camera and project nothing but his half-covered torso to the girl on the other end. "Emily, what's wrong? What's happening?"

"No time to explain, just come no-" the young girl began to speak, but was cut off by a deafening roar that even made the books and frames in Tristan's sitting room to vibrate from the power of the bass. The view was suddenly interrupted as Emily obviously moved her arm from her face and the last thing the two boys saw was a large shadow emerging through the flames of what was probably the Pokémon Center before a blinding white light filled the screen and cut off the call, leaving nothing but static playing across the screen.

Both Tristan and Gary shared a look of concern, before without uttering a single word, both grabbed their coats and shoes and bolted from the door, Cato hard on their heels.