Now and Then

by clarinetti

Team Rocket succeeded in taking over Silph. Co, and now Giovanni has both Kanto and Johto in the palm of his hand as his master plan comes to action. When the dust settles and the heroes are gone, do we fall to our knees and surrender? Or will anyone dare to take a stand? Adventure, drama, and tragedy ensues. Rated T for themes and language. On Hiatus until Christmas.

5. Chapter 3 Multiple Facets

Hello, lovely readers,

Just a quick thank you for all your reviews thus far, it is much appreciated. And in regards to the characters narrating, I shall from now on add the point of view. And for those confused on who was speaking in part 3 of the second chapter, that was Harold Grayson.

Anyways, onto Chapter 3!

Note: Just to clear up any ambiguity, we're going to list off all the things here I don't own;

1) The world of Pokemon

2) The Nintendo Universe

3) Gamefreak

4) Fiji (Well, at least not yet...)

5) Multiple OCs (Ex. Jack Lazarus, Ruby and Tyson Sinclair, James Westland, Magneta Eastridge, Harold Grayson, Fate Cross, etc etc.)

You get the picture, yes? Splendid, now we may commence.

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Chapter 3- Multiple Facets

Lana Carlin POV

"We're being reassigned?! What for?!" I demand hotly, slamming my fist into the desk as if to emphasize the point. Normally I am the level-headed one, the quiet one who plans things out and leads my men to follow the job description. But to be reassigned from Fuschia, now, to some tiny outpost outside of Cerulean? I frown, furrowing my brow in disdain, but of course, the person on the other side of the phone can't see that. "Fuschia is presently under control, and support teams are being sent from Celadon to assist in both Fuschia and the Seafoam Islands. However, it is felt that some disturbance is occuring near the Cape, possible rebel acitivity. Your squad is to search it out, and verify that it is a dead zone." the voice on the other end of the line cooly states. The voice is vaguely familiar enough, distinctly female, but I myself take little note of such things. "Why not send a squad from Cerulean to deal with it? They'd make much quicker process than my team of scouting the surrounding areas." "That is not in my authority to respond to your questions, nor my requirement. I was given a message, and I have fufilled my purpose in sending it to you. This line is terminated. Good day." And with that the noise on the opposing side is reduced to static.

I snap the rickety old thing shut, and turn to the admin in training, whom I know as Thomas Burton, but whose real identity is Nathan Cox. He comes from Pewter Town, and before the uprising he joined Team Rocket and assisted in the takeover of Mt. Moon. He then was sent in for official 'training' as he had not gone from the regime that most grunts receive before initiation- likely because he was already a talented trainer and the organisation amongst the Pewter faction was poor at the time, a trait that continues to this day (Presently the only area in more desperate need of reform besides Pewter Town is Lavender, which according to my sources is getting a full reform at the moment). After only three months of training, he was referred by his superiors to take on the more rigorous program of becoming an admin, which led to a month in in-class training in Saffron before being assigned to an admin to train under and gain experience before being fully promoted. Which means that at the moment, this boy is assessing my every move in hopes of learning the ropes.

"What does our source say?" he asks calmly, although I am sure that he can guess by my fuming expression. "We're moving out in the morning, to reevaluate the situation at Cerulean Cape. No ifs, ands, or buts about it either, so get to packing your stuff and be prepared to leave at five in the morning, sharp. If you are late, you shall lose two conduct marks. If you do not show up, I shall have you receive an undesirable awakening which has yet to be decided. Understood?" I reply firmly, and nodding of heads goes about, a few grins at the mention of the punishment. "Don't you smirk at me, Evans, or you Anderson- this is serious business." I growl, and they nod, the smiles on their faces only mildly toned down. "Apologies, Mam." "Good. You are all dismissed, with the exception of you, Burton." And with that, the eight troops, five men and three women, leave the space in which we were discussing our plans.

When they have all left, save for Burton, I slump back into uncomfortable metal chair, observing the surrounding without any real interest or attention to detail. Old concrete walls, windows smashed clean, a few shards of glass winking at me through the last of the crimson sunlight. There's a few chairs, a wobbling table with my notebook on it, a lampshade sitting abstactly on the cold linoleum, but that is about it for the furniture component of the room. This used to be a condo in one of Fuschia's many sky-toppling buildings looking over the water, a sparkling gem that still glistens with the once unremarkable beauty my younger eyes perceived it to be. But since the first invasion, the entire eastern portion of the city was bombed, left to meagre ruins built of stone and dust and ashes. With the more recent invasions, the western half of Fuschia has been neglected, the buildings having aged into a series of old, dilapidated structures, stripped of all the glory and magnificence they once possessed. It is here where we lie, far enough so not having to fear the chaos that occurs out by the harbour, but close enough to be deployed at the drop of a pin.

"Mam?" Burton asks, visibly uncomfortable with having to stir me from my process of thought. "I've told you a dozen times, you can call me Colline, or even Nathalie." I grumble in response to the intrusion, my disapproval of the formality seething through my tone. I sigh, focussing my gaze on the boy, who, despite the fact that I am four or so years his senior, easily stands a half foot taller than myself. "What do you think of the situation, in regards to the remaining rebel activity?" I ask him lazily, as if I was asking about the weather forecast for tomorrow. His dark eyes flicker in the gaze of my own light blue irses, and then ponders the question silently. When he speaks, the tone is confident and assertive in its stance."The remaining forces are small, but contain great strength. Should they conquer the Seafoam Islands, it is possible that they might place an attack on Pallet or Fuschia in an attempt to 'liberate' the respective areas of our influence." "Mhmmmmm..." is my sole response to his words, and I wait. After a hesitant moment of mild unease, he clears his throat, and continues. "I, if it is not too bold of me to say, the rebel's reaction to our presence is understandable." Raising my eyebrow slightly, his normally olive complexion pales with anxiety. "Well, it is just that, the way in which we have come to take over the places they once knew as home, and regime we have since instilled, could be considered rather strict. A curfew of nine o'clock every evening, required permission and documentation to even walk through the town districts, let alone outside their homes, the raids, it all seems rather, unnecessary. When I worked in File Management, there were countless claims of misuse of authority, theft, kidnapping, torture, rape, and various other violations of rights, human and pokemon alike. We were told to shred them all, without any investigation of the matter. I think...that if we are to establish our place here, we ought not do it in such a way as this. This is chaos."

The city is mute to his words, and I don't believe that it has heard them, for the gunfire in the distance continues, the heavy POM of another collapsing fragment of a building, the shouts and screams of humans and pokemon only grow louder. He looks nervous, as though fearing that I would report him for admitting his thoughts. For in the world of Giovanni, these ideals that Burton has mentioned are intolerable. According to Giovanni, the people of Kanto should be grateful for the protection and assistance Team Rocket is providing in order to rebuild society. Such is the mantra of the lower, narrow-minded individuals in this group- anything else would be subject to interrogation and punishment. If I wanted to, I could report it. But instead, I sigh again, shaking my head, and instead answer him with a question. "What is the difference between this chaos and society? In society, rape, theft, and all other variations of crime occur on an everyday basis, and for many of the victims, there is no consolation, no help, just the open wound from when the act took place, gaping and prone to infection. The only difference between society and chaos is that society seeks to hide such things from the eyes of the masses, while chaos allows it to do as it will."

"Furthermore," I continue, ignoring the blank expression on his face and instead straightening myself up from the previous slouching position. "The regime which we have presently placed on the towns has been done so for the purpose of negating any rebel activity to occur, and to protect the people. It is true, that the idea of revolution may come to mind as a result of our policies, and that there are innocent parties who are treated unfairly due to these policies but it is undoubtable that much of the rebellion has been quelched by these methods which have been employed. It is all for the greater good in which we do this. Do you know of the witchweed?" "Well, its a plant I presume?" "Hmm, yes, one of a more manipulative nature. Once the witchweed is germinated, the sprouts quickly send roots to the surroudiing area, until it encounters the roots of a larger plant- rice, sorghum, and other grassy plants for example. It then purposely inserts its own roots into those of the neighbouring plant so it may sap out all the water and nutrients of the host. The witchweed grows quickly, and once it has a viable host, proceeds to suck the life out of it, until the plant is choked to death. From there, the witchweed continues to expand its roots, and grows at a rapid pace, which allows it to release a large quantity of seeds to the surrounding area, furter infecting the surrounding plants. If left unchecked, one single plant can begin the process and wipe out a whole field of crops."

"Similarily, this is what the rebellion can do to us." I conclude, nodding to myself as if with conviction. "Do you understand what I am saying, Burton?" "Yes, but is it not we that are the witchweed? We are the ones suffocating them, the people, with our prison walls and rules. Is it not their right to try to defend themselves from us?!" he demands, and then freezes before his mouth opens again. "I apologize, I was out of place, and I do not know what got int-" "Save it. I'll be deducting four conduct marks for that statement, and depending on my mood after this god damn mission, I might even put that on my monthly report. If that happens, you won't be answering to me, but to the Head of Administration, so don't piss me off again. This meeting was solely to discuss the details of the assignment. Do you understand?" A choking sound is the closest thing I get to a 'yes', so I take it, and begin to speak in whispered tones so that no one beyond these walls can hear us. "Calm down, Burton. You're a smart kid, so don't get flustered. You just got to learn how to play the game- that's why you're here. You might not like the way things work here, but if you want to keep afloat, you'll pretend like you agree with it. Because the moment someone harsher than myself gets wind of something like that, its not just you who will disappear. It will be your mother, father, sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents, friends and acquantinces from work who disappear with you. So play the game by their rules. Do you understand?"

"Is that what happened to you, Ma-Colline?" The little warmth on my face vanishes as his words turn me stone cold, and my following words become clipped and tinged with anger. "No Burton, that's not what happened to me. But I've seen it happen, and once is bad enough. Now do you understand?" "...Yes, Colline." "Good. Now we have an early morning, so I suggest you sort out any business and get some rest. You are dismissed." And without another word, he gives me a look that tells me everything, and leaves the room, firmly shutting the steel door behind him. When the sound of his footsteps fade away, I sigh in relief. Exhausted, I slump back down, looking out on the city that I once vowed to defend against everything. This is what has become of my home. The police force was annihilated for what feels like an eternity ago, Officer Jenny ungraciously murdered, the remaining forces killed fighting Team Rocket. And now there's me, the rookie assigned as an undercover to figure out how the poaching and money laundering was working. Everyone else is gone, and now I'm here, a sheep in wolf's clothing, playing the part in order to stay alive. A part that has allowed me to thrived in playing it.

I sometimes wonder if I'm pretending to be the villain, or if I have become the villain. I commit the crimes, boss the grunts about, follow the same orders. I do things that the old me would have flinched and cringed at even thinking of. In the back of my mind, I privately lament and rage and scream for all the cruelty and injustice I see before me, yet do not make a move to change anything. And even if I could do something, what could I do? For how is one agent supposed to bring an entire crime syndicate down from the well guarded interior? Maybe I can do something, but I lie to myself because I have already become that which I most despise. Often the sense of guilt occurs in the pit of my chest at this notion. Throat tightening, I continue to gaze out at the sparkling shards of broken glass, now mirroring the ultramarine of the evening sky. I tug off the orange handkerchief on my neck, the one I received when I first arrived at the Police Institute. It was an award from a few of the not-so-new cops for having such passion in her work. On the inside of the fabric is the word 'Teamwork' scratched out in faded brown marker, nearly blending into the material. One of my teachers wrote that, because I always had preferred working on my own. The old retired officer told me that you can't just rely on yourself, and that the strength of a team exceeds the sum of its parts. That is what they told Lana Carlin, confident, loyal, justice seeking rookie in the Fuschia Police Department. The one who didn't worry about others, so long as the job got done.

But here, I return as Nathalie Colline, the stubborn Sub Admin of one of the most successful stealth teams in the region. The one who doesn't care how dirty her hands get as long as she and her team make it out alive. So who am I now, and who am I supposed to be? "I don't know anymore..." I murmur softly to myself, frowning. I have always been the headstrong determined one, the girl who wanted to make a change, to bring down the bad guys and stop crime in its tracks. I still plan to do that- whether or not I care for this team is irrelevant, or at least should be. I have a mission, with the blueprints and background information all laid out. I just need to find someone willing to help me. Because despite the views as I had as a child, when I was oh so independant, I can't do this alone. Not this time.

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Lucas Jackson POV

"Three potions, an antidote, and a repel. Is that everything?"

"Yes."

"Ok, then the total of that shall be 964. 78, in cash."

"What?! This is outrageous!" the middle aged woman shrieks in disdain, a sound which in my mind reminds me of treacherous furies flying over the Asphodel Fields. Perturbing lemon eyes spark in frustration, and I almost swear that from her vibrant violet locks streaked with gold, sparks are flying. Her hair has been styled in such a way that it spirals upwards in a demented beehive fashion, vaguely reminiscent to the hair of the bride of Frankenstein. Even her face has that of one similar to a bird- beaky nose, pursed lips, lacking any expression other than rage, it indeed suits her. She points a gloved finger to me, as if preparing to lecture me on store policy. "Is there a problem, Madame?" I ask her nonchalently, trying to remain straight faced throughout the process. "YES! Last week I bought the exact same things in the identical quantities, and it only costed me 932. 15! What's with the price hike- you trying to rip off me, buster?" "No Madame, it is not my doing as to the increase in price." "Then let me speak to your manager!" "The manager is not present today." "Then who can I talk to in order to file a complaint?!" "Well, I imagine the office of finance, or the government." "What does government have to do with this, buddy?!" "Well Madame, General Surge has recently increased to price of store bought goods due to the present shortage. Furthermore, an additional tax has now been added in order to assist in the war effort."

"War Effort?! Why I could KILL that money-hoarding, overzealous military cu*t! The only war effort going on around here is the war to find enough to eat and something decent to wear...psh, war effort...how can anyone call having a million troops guarding a wall a war effort?! And if he had all the things his way, he'd have us all starve so that it all went to his itsy-bitsy soldiers, which do nothing but guard the wall and prevent anyone from leaving! He thinks that he can just take over this town to do what he wants with it. This is a god-damn democracy, hear me?! I'm not paying some tax for that f**king tyrant to just, OHHHH I HATE HIM! AAAAAIIIIIIE-" "Madame?" "WHAT?!" "Under the Pokemart Rules and Restrictions, Section 6 Article 2, Clause 14, Sub-clause 8, I must escort you out of the building as you are disturbing the other customers." I murmur quietly, flicking my eyes away as her penetrating gaze harrasses me.

"OH, I APOLOGIZE for having disturbed the customers, MR. PAIN IN THE *SS! No need to escort ME, SIR, I understand when MY presence is NOT WANTED. Good day!" The woman replies in an arrogant tone, emphasizing her words in a shouting voice every once in a while. With that she slightly tilts her head upwards, as though having smelt an undesirable odour, drops all the things in her hands onto the table, and praddles out of the store, obnoxious bubblegum pink heels clicking against the linoleum, a Proud looking Snubull on her heels. I vaguely note the oversized, frilly polka-dot bows, both on the poor pokemon's collar and the womans equally disgusting pink dress. And then, like a malvolent spirit after a particulierly painful exorcism, she departs. The few remaining customers gaze at the door from which the ill-intending being first came from, as though cautious of its return. After a few moments of blissful peace and silence, the customers continue browsing through the wares, and all is restored to how it was before. With a sigh of contempt, I pick up the products which she left behind, being especially careful with the glass potion bottles. Why the manufacteur's continue to sell the potions in glass bottles is beyond me- for All other potions, status treatments or enhancements, and all other merchandise of this variety are now kept in plastic containers. Oh well, not my place to comment.

In a methodical manner, I carefully put all the respective items back in their place, and then continue to man the cashier. Being the only worker on duty today was not the ideal condition, but I really don't care. My manager, Marc, knows that I won't do anything stupid while at work, and that I won't complain about taking on a full shift on my own. Because the moment I counteract my usefulness with any troubles I cause, he might just slip in a word to one of the many patrolling officiers that I was an illegal refugee, back when Vermillion, or I should rather say General Surge, refused asylum to any people not already resident to the city. At the present I would be considered in safe grounds- I have already applied and received my status as refugee. But if it was known that I was here two months before that whole process begin, questions would be asked, and I would likely be captured by the Secret Police, the force that Surge privately funds to weed out any criminals inside his fort. Subject to interrogation, torture, and most likely long term emprisonment, I would be lucky to receive a quick death. So I don't complain, and I stay on Marc's good side. Everyone's happy.

The day continues, much like any other day for me. I sit by the counter, watching the clock as the hands move about, waiting to see if a customer needs my assistance. A few customers decide to buy a few products, all of them noting the increase in price, and when the store is almost at its closing hour, I quietly note that sales have, once again, decreased. It has been a quiet, lonesome sort of day, but I don't mind it- I am honestly not one who likes to talk much. Just as I am about to turn the door sign to 'CLOSED', the door jingles open, and a bright eyed child darts up to the counter. SQWILSH SQWILSH goes the slippery sneakers against the floor, and when the individual arrives before me, they raise a hand, indicating for me to wait as the person catches their breath after a clearly intense sprint. I look at the not quite yet preteen boy, a short one with spiky black hair, white jacket, blue vest, dark pants, and a faded baseball cap. He keeps panting for a moment, and then, as if by magic, seemingly perks up completely, and turns to face me.

"HEY, can I get some pokeballs?" the boy asks, dark eyes gleaming with unbridled excitement, and my eyes widen slightly in surprise. "You're a pokemon trainer." I state blandly, but the boy eagerly shakes his head. "YEP! I'm gonna be the next Pokemon Master!" he replies, determination etched on his face. Looking at him, I can see the shadow of myself when I too was a new trainer. Excited to start on my great journey, as this boy clearly is. However, I fear that he is forgetting a valuable point. "There's a war going on here." I state, and for a moment the light in his eyes fade, but then return with renewed faith. "Yea, but that still doesn't mean I can't become a Pokemon Master! My Sandshrew by my side, we're an unstoppable duo!" he explains to me, and I nod, lacking all the enthusiasm this child seems to be made of. I could comment on the fact that if the officiers have not heard that he's a pokemon trainer, and they catch wind of it, he'll be recruited before he can blink in response. Pokemon trainers have become a dying breed, you see. Most of them were wiped out during Team Rocket's initial invasion, when they tried to defend the cities. Many of them instantly formed and joined the Rebels, and when the Rebels were beaten up, so were they. It's a pity, to tell you the truth, because so many of those willing trainers were kids, and when they were massacred like the rest of the rebels, it would be their families who picked out their bodies and buried them. And the few trainers around these days are quickly recruited either into the rebel forces, Team Rocket's forces, or, if you are anywhere near Vermillion, into Surge's Army of brainwashed subordinates. So while the initial trainer's goal was to become the greatest trainer of them all, now they all are forced to partake in a war which has nothing to do with them.

But I won't tell this child this quite yet- he will learn it all too soon enough as it is.

"How many pokeballs would you like to buy?" I ask him, and he chirps in reply that he would like five pokeballs. I slowly walk to the vault where the pokeballs are kept, insert the seven digit code, and watch as the door opens, revealing shelves of shelves of boxes of pokeballs. The army has all the pokeballs they could scavenge stored so that no one can steal the goods anymore, but we still have the remaining stock from before the war- apparently Marc used to always buy more stock than he needed when they were on sale, since Pokeballs don't have an expiry date. I pull out five of the dusty red and white orbs, look back to make sure the boy isn't trying to steal any other goods, and then give the balls a quick shine. Gleaming in the faint fluorescent lighting, you would think they are brand new. I reseal the vault, and then place the pokeballs on the counter. "That'll be 1 013, in cash." And the kid trainer pulls out a tiny purse, stuffed with rolls of bills. He sees me eyeing the money and he frowns. "I didn't steal it, ok?! I won it from battling." he tells me, a frown on his face, and I turn away from him until he slaps the money onto the counter. Counting the money in a careful manner, I then insert it into the cashier and offer him a receipt. "No, thanks." says the boy, and then I put the pokeballs in a bag and hand it over to him.

"Thanks!" he calls out, and then proceeds to SQWILCH SQWILCH out to the door, placing his hand on the door handle as if to open it. Closing the cashier, I grimace as "HEY, MISTER!" come from the other side of the store, where the boy is staring at me with an oversized grin. "YOU'RE sort of like that, that guy I saw on TV when I was a kid- that trainer, ahhh, whatdidthey call 'im...aw, I forget his name, but YOU know him?!" he calls back, and I keep the surprise off my facial features as best I can. "...No...why do you ask?" I reply in a cautious monotone. "AWWW, no reason, but you sure act like him- he rarely spoke, but he was intense, like, INTENSE. There was this match, and he just poned Lorelei, as in The Lorelei from THE ELITE FOUR, with his Ampharos. But then he lost the last match with Lance, and then he just disappeared, but maybe, huh? Was it that guy, or the red head kid who poned Lorelei with an Ampharos, I dunnooo...AWW I'm LATE! I've got to meet this friend of mine for a battle and it's on the other side of town, that street the officers afford cause they're scared of the Pokemon Fan Club? YEA, SORRY MISTER, GOTTA GO!" And when that the boy darts out the store and into the pitch black night.

I flip the store sign to 'CLOSED', tally up the profit for the day, and lock the cash register. Slipping off my blue work apron and tugging on a thick navy blue jacket, I take my apron and hang it on the hook with all the others, the small plastic name tag saying "Lucas" on it. I get my bag from my locker, checking to make sure my pokeballs are still there, and with that darkness encompasses me as CLICK go the lights. The last thing I do before I leave is lock the front entrance, and then I too enter into the night.

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Eva Whitley POV

"Eva! Can you please help your grandma with Tiny please?" Grandpa calls out from the field, a wheelbarrow of pokemon food in his hands as he rolls it to the pens, where we keep the pokemon who like to roam about in the open grass. "Yes, Gramps, I'll do that now." I call back from my bedroom window, throwing my long blonde hair into a messy ponytail as I descend the flight of stairs and into the living room. Strolling past the small, cramped space where a variety of pokemon are sitting on the couch, I slip through the back door, alarming a pair of Pidgey into flight, and then enter the large, wooden barn where many pokemon like to sleep at night. The air here smells of hay, dirt, and wild things, clouds of dust floating about while the early morning tendrils of sunlight slip through the windows. There is Granny, a tall, sagelike woman even at this early hour. Her skin is a crinkled brown paper bag, a few liver spots flecking it here and there, and her sweeping pewter grey hair tied back into a braided bun. The clothes aren't exactly fancy- a long white dress with a brown apron and old leather shoes, but she still looks very much alive and active. She turns to the CREAK of the barn door, her hazel eyes lighting up when she catches sight of me, whilst my turquoise orbs widen at the sight before me. And I groan. "Tinnnyyyyyyy..."

There is Tiny, the Caterpie who has been living with us for nearly a year now. Some time ago, a rather irresponsible trainer just left him here one day, forking us a mound of money and telling us to contact her if he ever evolved. And never has she come back to check on him, nor contacted us to ask how he is doing. And as a result of this dreadful neglect, we've somewhat adopted him into the family. Tiny is generally a cheerful, hard-working pokemon, but clearly at the moment he is not so, groaning as he struggles to squeeze out of the ten foot wide door to his pen. He is almost the size of an Arbok, and if he wanted to, he could simply crawl over the steel pen we have built especially for him. But every day he chooses to force himself through the door in and out of the pen, as though he himself is unbelieving in how large he is. It makes sense that he may be confused- the average Caterpie is just under two or so feet in length, and with the antennae reach a maximal height of eighteen inches. Tiny is about eleven feet and five inches long, and at his full height can slightly exceed six feet.

"CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA CAAATER CAATER!" He roars in a rumbling voice that contrasts the usual high pitched tones of the Caterpie cry. Granny is calling to im, trying to appease him from causing an uproar, and the great bug-pokemon groans again, and then collapses on the floor. "Aww, Tiny, it's ok, don't be upset, look, look who it is. It's Eva, Tiny!" she calls to him in a loud voice, pointing and waving as if to get his attention. The creatures massive yellow and black eyes turn to face me, pupils dialating slightly, and then he attempts to push through the gate again, to no avail. "Hey, Tiny! Stop! Naomi's going to get you out of here, ok? Just calm down." I tell him, pulling out my pokemon and throwing it to the ground. In a burst of light, a great fox-like creature appears, its multiple tails twisting and swirling about with flames while heat seemingly emits from its cream coloured fur. It opens its eyes to reveal crimson jewels staring back at me. "Hey, girl, how are you?" I ask affectionately, taking a step towards her and rubbing her fur around the ears in greeting. She submits to the gesture, bowing her head slightly before then turning to the giant in the room, giving me a quizzical look. "We need to get him out, without hurting him. Can you do that?" I ask her, and she simply nods her heads and walks towards the metal bars.

Quickly, the Ninetales bites through the metal bars of the doors, being cautious where the gates were particulierly close to the Caterpie's body. If this had happened a few months ago, Naomi wouldn't give it a second thought, but like me, Tiny has grown on her, to the point where she'd fight to the death to protect that old softie. Because despite the fact that he may look rather menacing, and that he could easily squish a car by walking on it, he wouldn't hurt a Magikarp, and prefers to just peacefully wander about, eating the branches of fruit trees and the piles of pokemon food Gramps feeds him. Finally, after 10 minutes of chewing through the surrounding bars, Tiny hesitantly steps out of his pen, and crawl out of the barn. "Ohh, thank you Eva, and thank you Naomi!" Granny says, smiling a crinkled grin and hugs me, looking at Naomi, and ruffling the fur around her ears. Naomi takes the petting while rolling her eyes- she doesn't like anyone to touch her but myself- and after a moment she backs away from Granny. "Alright, Alright, I get it. Eva honey, how did you sleep? Did Grandpa wake you up too early, because you look tired." she coos, concern etched onto her face as she attentively watches me. "Ah, no Granny, its fine, just another late night at work." "Oh, Eva, you work so hard all the time, I hate that you're working all day and all night. I wish, that you'd just quit that place. Please quit that job? Maybe then you could sleep, and then you could get a bit more time to yourself and have some fun." she says, and hugs me tightly.

"Aww, don't worry about it, work is going fine, there's just alot to do." I reply, trying to coax her into a better mood, but the frown on her aging face only lightens up mildly. "Hmmph, they've got you working all the time. And then they keep trying to get you to transfer to Celadon or Saffron, but that's crazy! If it's dangerous here, who knows how risky it would be to work over there? Those crooks, they just do whatever they want, and who knows what could happen to you out there?!" "Granny, calm down, ok? I already told them that I'm not transferring anywhere. It shall all be ok, alright? Don't worry Granny." I tell her in a soothing voice, something she used to do when I was a child. She sighs, and then shakes her head. "Ah, you're right, I'm just stressing bout things that don't need to be thought of. And I can't tell you what to do; after all, you're an adult now. You've got to figure out whats best for you, Eva. Just, no matter what Grandpa and I say, do what you think is best, ok?" "Yes, Granny." "OK, enough of this mopey stuff, we've got some work to do! Eva, pleas go help your Grandpa with the rest of the pokemon, and I'll get an early breakfast going, ok?" "Ok, Thanks Granny." I tell her, and with that she leaves the barn, and I turn to stare at Naomi, who has a bemused expression on her face.

"Don't give me that look, please. I already feel bad enough as it is." I mutter to her, pulling a folded up black hat from my coat pocket, thumbs outlining the edges of the bold 'R' on the top of the beret. I'd almost considered telling them now, or at least soon, but I know deep in my heart that I was never going to tell them, that it was just to humour and sate my own concern. If they knew, how I've betrayed the trust and love that they've always given me, I don't know what I would do. And Granny just said so herself, that I've got to do what is best for me. This is what's best for me right now. What they do not know will not hurt them. I won't let anything hurt them.

I'll have to tell them tonight before dinner, that I'm going away for a few days with some friends from work to a conference of sorts. Of course, I am leaving out that this also involves aiding a stealth team from Fuschia in scouting the Cape again. Which is stupid, since we've searched the bloody Cape every month for the past six months, and after time we do, we find nothing- that's why it is a dead zone. Why would it make a difference if some out of town stealth team comes to help? Hmph, but the orders are orders, and I received mine already last night, I think to myself, recalling the one way conversation between myself and the other girl on the line.

"In four days, a stealth team shall be arriving in Cerulean from Fuschia, a squad headed by Nathalie Colline. You shall be in charge of helping them scout out Cerulean Cape in order to evaluate its current status... The mission shall take three days, two nights. We shall contact you when they arrive. This line is terminated."

BING BING BING

"Damn-it." I mutter to myself as my hands deftly search my pockets for the radio phone, and then quickly pops it open. "What?!" I quietly hiss to the speaker. "Phew, aren't you in a bad mood this morning, eh, Evey?" "Shut it Dawes, now tell me while you're calling, I'm working." Dawes cackles into the phone with malicious glee. "Ah, don't be such a bitch, Evey. I'm just letting you know that you've got plans this evening- dinner with Snoopy to figure out what's going on, taking a four man team to a house party with some rebels, and then after drinks you can go visit Billy boy and ask him about that rumour we've been hearing. So make sure to clean your gun, pick a pretty dress, and play nice, ok?" "Hmmmph, how about you go send someone else to Snoopy, and then you and I can have the dinner ourselves?" I ask in a whisper, and the man on the other end giggles as though I was tickling him. "Hah, I'll send someone else then, but I'll pass on the dinner- I've learned my lesson from last time." "Ohhh, you didn't have fun? I sure did." I coo in a seductive tone, mentally noting with disgust that Dawes may be ejaculating himself at the memory as we speak. I hate to play this game, but if it gets me what I want, I'll play it, and I'll use all my cards."Not until you tried to kill me when I said I wouldn't recommend you for a promotion." "Aww, you still mad about that?" "Get back to work Evey- you're sexy as f**k, but I'd rather rot in hell than go to dinner with you again- at least I can compromise with Satan." And with that the line goes dead, I shut the phone, and start lugging a bag of pokemon food to the field where Gramps is, Naomi close on my heels.

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Alrighty then, so this concludes Chapter 3. I know it got to be wordy, but its just kind of how it turned out, hope its ok. Oh, and for all the Lt. Surge bashing, my apologies- it's just too tempting sometimes...Take care, and have a great weekend,

clarinetti