Author's Note:

I am currently suffering from a very bad toothache. I find it is very difficult for my brain to focus on ideas and find the words it needs to describe them. So, I apologize for this chapter being very shoddy, but since I was supposed to have this done weeks ago, I don't want to delay things any further.

Also, I know I'm falling behind on reviews. I know, I know. So… go ahead and PM me if you want me to review your story, or if I gave you a review and then stopped… It'll help me to rebuild my to-do list.

I can't wait to get to the next Silver Resistance chapter, so let's get this thing moving again.

Late in the afternoon, Luxio, a Croconaw, and a Combusken occupied a planning table at the commons of Fort Emerald. Their hearts were heavy, but strong, as they discussed their recent mission and its outcome, and waited for the motivation to begin the long trek back to District Ten through the worsening winter weather. Since attending Lucario's meeting, they'd already overstayed for one night hoping the storm would blow over, and were fearing having to stay another.

"We can't go back," the Croconaw insisted. "That'd be stupid. They know what we did now. They'd be looking out for us."

"There has to be something… we've got to do something about it, Aquos" the Combusken muttered. "After all this. We started that trade route. Maybe we can fix it… I just can't believe… All the time we were there, Snowcrest looked clean… I mean, Lucius… there was no indication that the Master was watching us… Am I right?"

"I don't think Snowcrest was ever the problem," the Luxio considered. "It was the palace the Master must have been watching the whole time, not Snowcrest. And we never noticed because we spent most of our effort at Snowcrest… The line was cut at the end we always assumed would be the least of our trouble."

The Combusken sighed, his spirit deeply unsettled.

For a moment, he focused his attention on a peculiar item sitting before him on the table: a medium-sized chunk of a glass-like jewel, gleaming with an ever-so-slight tint of redness wherever a shadow was cast upon it. He fiddled with the shard, turning it around in his claws, as if hoping it could bring him some sort of answer. After no answer came, the fire Pokémon lifted his gaze to his surroundings.

The common room was a large place. The floor was composed of a rough, sturdy marble laced with green veins, and the walls with white grooved stone common to many of the city's buildings. A wooden kiosk full of books was positioned at the center of the room, and around it, lining the walls, sat dozens of small tables at which Pokémon teams could rest. To an outsider, the place would have looked like a tavern or a recreation hall, but the resistance teams of the division often used it to plan and strategize for their missions while they were within the city walls and near all the resources they would need to get ready, such as the library and the equipment retailers.

Unease further washed over the Combusken as he looked around the room, seeing that it was mostly deserted. Only two other teams occupied the often-teeming chamber, the rest having departed for home before the blizzard could trap them in the city.

"Lucario says the Master has his sights on Snowcrest now," the Combusken recalled. "We know the area. We should help. We have to find some way to help."

A few slivers of static leapt across the Luxio's mane as it shook its head. "Best we don't," it answered regretfully. "We've done our damage. There's a reason Lucario didn't assign this to us. It's up to Team Flamewheel now. If we stepped foot inside that city, and the Master caught sight of us, they could put two and two together, and before you know it… we're dead."

The Combusken clutched his crystal, feeling anger begin to seethe within his chest.

"We can't lose Snowcrest," he growled adamantly, trying to keep his Ember in check. "We can't let this happen to them… We can't let the Master tear down Snowcrest…"

"Flare."

The Combusken blinked at the sound of his name. He loosened his grasp on his glimmering stone.

"You're preaching to the choir," the Croconaw told him. "I know it must hurt remembering what happened to you as a kid. But don't forget you're a walking cliché, Flare. The whole resistance exists because the Master hurt us like that. Everybody here has a dead family. Dead friends. Or a burned-down hometown. You aren't the only Pokémon who wants justice done."

Flare nodded to himself. It was true. Tragic pasts were a common ground of the entire resistance; with almost every Pokémon he could turn to, from the newest recruit to the most hardened warrior, he found that many others shared his story. For instance, Markov the Feraligatr of Team Remorse, Aquos' role-model, watched helplessly as his eggs were tossed into a pool of Sharpedo… followed by his mate. Canniah the Arcanine, who served Team Flamewheel, woke one morning to find her father's jaws dripping with the blood of her family after having his memory erased by a psychic and turned into a vicious feral. Naxi the Flygon, the freelance mercenary, had once served the Master from time to time if the pay was good, but after being betrayed and nearly killed, devoted the remainder of his life to revenge…

And he, Flare, the Combusken, narrowly escaped as his home village beneath Redwolf Woods was smashed to the ground by the Master, after some brilliant commander determined it harbored an imaginary resistance movement…

…

"They're coming," the Typhlosion hissed to his son. "Flare. You can get away from here. Go, while there's still a chance…"

"Father, what's happening?" the little Torchic cried. "Father… what's going on?!! Where's mother? Where's everybody else…?"

"Flare, listen," the Typhlosion begged. "You have to listen to me. Get out the back tunnel. Escape from here… I can distract them. But you have to move now. Go. GO!"

…

Cries filled the air as the little Torchic slipped out the back door of his home, obeying the words of his father. Cries of Pokémon barking orders to one another… Cries of Pokémon giving their last breaths…

Voices he recognized…

Thinking it was all some sort of dream, he ran, and ran, leaving those sounds far behind him… until…

…

Forever, an image remained frozen before his eyes.

A pack of Golduck, Poliwhirl… lead by a tall, menacing Scyther… they stood before him, blocking his escape. His heart ran cold.

"It is only a child," the Scyther said. "It is harmless."

"That is beside the point," said a Golduck. "Kill it anyway. The orders were to leave no survivors."

The Scyther's eyes locked with the Torchic's, his cunning gaze forever burning into his sight…

"It is not worth the trouble," the Scyther decided. "It is too young. Practically a feral. Let it go. It will not be a threat."

…

Though he wished he could forget the memories, those few vivid flashes would stab his mind's eye whenever he would recall them, never to go away. Even after finding a new family to adopt and care for him, even after starting a new life which nearly replaced his old, the memories still came back sometimes when he would let his mind wander…

And so, when his adoptive family revealed to him that they were part of a massive underground organization that worked to defy the Master, he joined without hesitation. If there was anything he could do to prevent the tragedy that had happened to him from spreading to others… if there was any way to bring a sense of hope to those who would be targeted… he wanted to make it happen.

It had been nearly two decades since the team's first mission together. The diamond shard he held in his claws was a memento of that day, the day he and his four closest friends found them while exploring Crumbling Valley for a missing Spinarak from the division. It was that day he realized just how well the five Pokémon worked together. Upon returning back to the Gold Division with the missing Pokémon in tow, the five of them promptly quit their positions on Team Carrier, and Team Beacon was born.

Though they were not the strongest of teams quite yet, they proved themselves to be reliable, even surprising Lucario with their competence in dealing with rescue missions. It was enough to land them their positions at the Emerald Division. Through it all, they kept those diamond shards since the first day, holding them on person at all times in tiny pouches. They appeared as clear, colorless chunks of glass as long as the light touched them, but in the dark, they produced a radiant rainbow of color that lit the way through the darkest of nights and the deepest of caves. Having the strange things appraised, they found that no Pokémon had any idea what they were, or how they produced light. They remained as a symbol of brotherhood to the team, as well as a symbol to Flare of his purpose in life, to bring light in the darkness of hopelessness.

"How many more Pokémon share my story now," Flare wondered as he turned his crystal shard around in his claws, "now that Frozen Spring is gone?"

"If the Master had his way, zero," Lucius said. "The Master hates survivors. They're the ones who always fight against him. But if the Master is honing in on the Emerald Division, this might turn out worse than losing one little village. Or two. Doesn't help to beat yourself up over it."

Flare grumbled. Though it was painful, Lucius was right. He had to calm down. The situation was a bit more complicated than he wished. Acting blindly out of vengeance wouldn't accomplish anything.

"Still, you do have a point," the Luxio added. "It's difficult to imagine Team Flamewheel couldn't get this done. Back at the Gold Division they were one of the best around."

"Team Remorse probably could've handled it," Aquos claimed. "They made the best combination with Team Flamewheel. Too bad they don't work for Lucario. We could really use them right about now."

Flare felt his ember ignite further at the mere mention of Team Remorse. It was not like him to be angry, but there were certain things he could not stand remembering. He clutched his crystal tight, watching as small rays of crimson light were cast from it.

A tensed silence came over the team, regret for having accidentally mentioned Team Remorse… It was because of the elite resistance team that Flare made the decision to migrate to the Emerald Division in the first place. It was not something which Flare or any of his teammates felt comfortable bringing up.

"But hey," Aquos said quickly, "Look, we can pull through this. The whole division can. We heard Lucario yesterday. He's on this. We won't let the Master tear down Snowcrest or any place. And if there's anything we can do to help… we'll find it. There's still a spark of hope here. And… as long as there's a spark…"

"The fire isn't dead," Flare recited, almost by reflex.

"And as long as the fire is alive…"

"Hope lives on."

"And where there's hope…"

Flare gently released his grasp on the diamond shard, setting it down on the table and admiring its residual glow as it slowly faded back to colorlessness.

"…The darkness is held at bay," he completed.

It was their team motto. Part of their motto, at least. Though it was silly, it was another thing Team Beacon had kept since its inception. Upon coming up with the team name, Rita the Chikorita decided that they needed a motto. So, after everyone in the team took turns throwing in a few lines of their own, they had a coherent little mantra which reminded them of their team's mission. It grew on Flare over the years, and now it never failed to raise his spirit even in the worst of times.

"Alright then," he said, looking his two teammates in the eyes. "If we're not going back to Snowcrest… what do we do?"

"The best thing we can do, probably, is head back to the Gold Division for now," the Luxio suggested. "They know who we are now. We should make ourselves scarce, come back in a few months when it's blown over. Of course, I don't think Flare would ever approve of that…"

"Let's go to the Abyss," Flare decided suddenly, standing from his seat.

His friends both blinked. Lucius held his tongue, not sure how to respond.

"No, really," he insisted. "We're a rescue team. It's what we do best. We could go there. We could help with the rescue effort."

"You want to die with the rest of the fools searching for the Rapture Stone?" a deep voice spoke. "You'd be no better than them. The mission is nine-star. If you have any sense, leave it for those who know what they're doing."

Flare balked at the sound of the voice. It was imposing, sinister, serious… and strangely familiar. Startled, he turned to find the source.

A tall, dark figure loomed before him, over twice his own height. Its body was that of a serpent, very dragon-like, lined with shining black scales. Tiny clawed arms extended from its body, a long tail snaked across the ground behind it, and huge kite-like wings sprouted from its back, spread wide to make its figure even more intimidating. Its face, however, resembled that of an insect.

Flare swallowed hard. He knew this Pokémon, but had never experienced an audience with it. In truth, he never really wished to. It was a powerful creature, right up there with the best of the resistance, though legendary for its disagreeable and unfriendly nature. It was none other than Naxi, the black Flygon.

Naxi was a well-known figure around the resistance, mostly for being a wanted enemy for nearly a decade. He was a mercenary for hire, and since the Master was usually the one with the most funds at his disposal, Naxi wound up as a powerful antagonist to the resistance divisions, responsible for a great many deaths of notable team leaders and heroes. Though, that all changed one day when the Gold Division pooled their funds and decided to try hiring him for a mission of their own, to diffuse the threat he posed… and when he accepted, he quickly found that the Master could no longer trust him and ordered him to be killed. Upon escaping from the Master's wrath, he realized that the resistance was the only place in the world left open to him, and decided he would only serve the enemies of the Master from that point on.

Even though he sided with the resistance, claiming that revenge was a more valuable reward to him than money, Naxi refused to pledge allegiance to anyone. Instead, he wandered between the three divisions, serving any who would pose the greatest need of his service.

"Oh… " Flare managed to say, rather frightened at the Flygon's sudden appearance. "Didn't know you were in the neighborhood, Naxi."

"He was at the meeting yesterday, if you were paying any attention," Aquos mentioned. "If you don't mind me asking, Naxi, What brings you to the Emerald Division?"

"None of your concern," the Flygon replied indifferently, inspecting the table at which Team Beacon sat. "If you will excuse me, I was instructed to wait here. I doubt you are involved."

Taking the hint, Flare shoved his seat back underneath the table and leave the Flygon alone. He glanced at Aquos, who began to follow his motions, but then noticed a sly look on Lucius's face. He had no intention of moving.

"It's a good thing you came here," Lucius said to the Flygon, sitting high in his seat to meet his eyes. "We might need you. Things aren't going well for the Emerald Division right now."

"Exaggeration," Naxi answered, showing a hint of irritation in his voice. "From what I gathered at that meeting, Lucario's getting paranoid again. Like he always does. To be honest, I didn't pay much attention to his speech. Found it painfully boring."

"I think it's a little more than just paranoia," Lucius returned. "Did you hear about the massacre at Frozen Spring?"

"The village to the far west?" Naxi replied. "No… I didn't hear. But I don't really care. It's of no concern to me either way."

"It's gone," Lucius told him. "Master stomped it flat just a week or so ago."

"…Oh."

Naxi looked thoughtful for a split second, as if he realized he had forgotten some trivial detail. But other than that, he showed no emotion, continuing to scowl in annoyance of the amateur team at his table.

"Oh?" Flare echoed, surprising himself as he spoke up at the command of his boiling fire. "Oh? Is that all you can say?? This was a tragedy. Hundreds of Pokémon are dead. The handful of survivors have to live now without their family for the rest of their lives. The Master continues to destroy the world, and you don't care?"

"The only tragedy here was a tactical mistake by Lucario or whatever team he assigned the mission to," Naxi grunted in reply. "The dead Pokémon mean nothing. Pokémon die every day, with or without the Master's help. But you're right; this may indicate an issue for the division. I may soon find work."

Flare scowled at the Flygon, his denseness and lack of pity quickly making him furious.

"You forget what I am," Naxi said to the Combusken. "I'm an assassin. I kill for a living. The first thing I killed was my conscience. I'm sure some Pokémon have a use for emotional baggage and pain. I don't. I can't afford to be held back by meaningless feelings."

"…Speaks the great dragon who thrives on the sense of vengeance like bread and water," a new voice shouted from across the room.

Flare glanced behind Naxi, and to his surprise, found a Ninetales strutting across the room in the direction of his table. Undoubtedly, it was Legend of Team Flamewheel. He held his head high and walked with a strut, full of his usual pride.

"You numb the pain by hardening the heart," Legend spoke, "But to reject the instinctual feelings of the heart, to disregard your emotions, you detach yourself from all the lesser Pokémon surrounding you, and you lose something far greater: you lose the ability to relate to them. And I dare to allege the power to manipulate the hearts of Pokémon would be of the utmost use to a legendary strategist such as yourself."

"A power I find no use for," Naxi returned. "When I need to manipulate Pokémon, I find others to do it for me."

"Naxi."

"Legend. I assume you're the one who sent me the message."

"You assume correctly," Legend said. "There is something I would like to discuss with you—"

"Uh… hey… hate to be rude, but… are we interrupting something?" Aquos shouted, his eyes darting between the Flygon and the Ninetales. "We had no idea you were holding a meeting here…"

"Ah, Team Beacon, Well met," Legend said, turning to the other members of the table. "My sympathies for your disrupted project at Stone Palace. My heart goes out to you along with the rest of Rayquaza's Clutch. And to answer your question, no; in fact, it's a fortunate coincidence you're here. I needed to speak with you as well."

Naxi shifted in place, growing uncomfortable or perhaps bored with the circumstance. It was a good thing, then, that Legend wasted no time in getting down to business.

"Prince desires your assistance at Snowcrest, Great Hunter Naxi," Legend said outright. "After discussing recent affairs, we have all come to the conclusion that recruiting help would be optimal to our success on the mission Lucario gave to us. And seeing that you have returned to Rayquaza's Clutch too recently to have gotten involved with another matter, dark one, you were among the first of Prince's choices. "

"What good would I be on your mission," Naxi grumbled back, far from amused. "I am a killer, not a babysitter. You expect me to stand by while you chaperone the denizens of Snowcrest away from their doom?"

"I assure you, dark one, that we call upon the services of an assassin, because we desire the services of an assassin," Legend returned. "That is to say, we wish we did not need you. Indeed, if we lived in a perfect world where nothing would go wrong, there are many things we would not need. But the chance lingers in the air that such a simple mission could spiral out of control at any moment, and if it does, we would like nothing more than to call upon you to… assist us in quelling such an uprising."

"And if it doesn't?" Naxi questioned. "Would you waste my time with this theoretical threat of yours when I could instead be engaging in something a little more profitable?"

"Judging by the recent upheavals of our footholds, I find it unsafe to assume anything will go as planned," Legend said. "And I, for one, do not intend to be the fool who marches into a disaster unprepared for the consequences. Not to mention Prince. I promise it will be worth your time. And if not, we will make it so."

Naxi squirmed oddly in place, sighing tiredly as he looked the Ninetales in the eye.

"I will go, but only if you make it worth my time," Naxi decided. "If this calls for me to stand by idly without so much as firing a single Hyper Beam, I'll place a bounty on my time, so steep that you'd need to deliver the Master's head to Lucario before you could hope to pay it off. Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear," Legend answered, his confidence not faltering an inch. "We will let no debt go unpaid. It will be an honor to have you at our side, dark one. If all goes according to plan, we will set out for Snowcrest in two days."

"And you are sure Prince agrees to my terms?" Naxi challenged.

"I speak for him; he will agree to whatever terms I set," Legend assured him. "Besides, I think he would be more than pleased with your company if you told him you could only destroy a Combusken running through the snow. Think that is in the range of your abilities, dark one?"

"I can kill anything," Naxi uttered. "Anything is possible. It's all just a matter of finding the right strategy."

Flare stood with his beak hanging open, completely dumbfounded and confused as to the meaning of the conversation that had just taken place. When Legend cast a glance to him, the Ninetales winced so powerfully that he had to take a step backward.

"Flare, I do not mean you," Legend yelped quickly. "My apologies, I meant no offence to your species. There is… another Combusken. And a very long story behind it, in fact."

"None taken," Flare replied, not sure what else to say. "But… what does this all have to do with us?"

"I was just getting to that," Legend said, pivoting to give Team Beacon his full attention. "Prince has also asked me to implore your help for the upcoming mission. We would like for you to accompany Team Flamewheel and Naxi to Snowcrest. You have experience with the city, so you were another of Prince's first options. Is this within your power?"

Flare was deeply surprised. Team Flamewheel? Asking for help from Team Beacon? It was an impossibility. Some would call it a dream come true. Yet, here it was, happening. He knew it would be hopeless to turn Legend down; Legend always got the answer he wanted, even from the likes of the dark Flygon.

Yet…

Flare turned back to his two teammates, exchanging worried glances to both of them.

"Is something the matter?" Legend beseeched. "Are you bound by prior obligations? Or… is there an issue?"

"Well, the only issue is… are you sure it's safe?" Lucius asked in an uncertain tone. "I mean, after the trade route was sabotaged…"

"Safe?!" Legend laughed. "Hah. When is the work of a resistance team ever safe?"

Flare the Combusken, Aquos the Croconaw, and Lucius the Luxio of Team Beacon were created by ap13095.
Naxi the Flygon was created by Dark Flygon Naxi.