A/N I'm sure that I'm forgetting something. :P Anyway, I hope you like it. This chapter I feel is a step up from the last, and it will hopefully continue to climb. Anjumstar mentioned that I was making the girl character's weak (though she was very very nice. I'm simply owning up. :P). She is right. *is ashamed* I honestly don't remember all of why I was doing that. I know that it had something to do with the ending plot, and I thought that it was mentioned in earlier chapters too. But it's been so long. I just changed a few details to the ending and now it doesn't make any sense. I'm sorry. That's what happens when you take three or four years off one story. I'll try to up the awesomeness of the girl characters. As a women, I find it annoying myself, and I wrote it. Sorry women! And er, any annoyed men as well. Anywho, I hope this chapter is far better then the last. It's a bit of a lead up chapter, but I still hope that you like it. I put a lot of effort into it. Honestly I think I just needed a bit to get back into the swing of this story. I think I'm close now.

And now, enjoy!

Alexi winced when she was pushed into the cell. She would almost like to have skipped out just to avoid being put back in one. Cells were rooms as a child. It was quick as the others entered and took in their surroundings. The air was thick with pressure. Wondering if they had done the right thing, how long they would be stuck in the cell, if everyone was going to make it out alright. Misty stood before her, shaking a bit. Alexi knew that it wasn't from fear, the expression on her face said so. It looked like worry and frustration. Alexi was sure that it had little to do with them and everything to do with Ash and Makaila.

She watched as May split from Drew and Drake and came up beside her, moving a little into her gaze and giving her a comforting glance. 'We'll all be okay,' the look said. Misty wasn't calmed but smiled back weakly in thanks. Alexi couldn't bring herself to give the same agreement.

Drake pulled Taylor aside gently as the grunts ushered the others in.

Brock, Gary, and Keagan were the last to enter, supporting Brock on either side. It was obvious that the slow pace of the three was bothering the grunts. One finally gave Brock a push to fill the last couple of steps. Keagan, who had been carefully keeping his anger in check, turned roughly to glare at them. As he opened his mouth to speak, the door was shut in his face. "You-"

"Keagan, it's alright."

Keagan turned to see that the words had come from Alexi. It was not alright, and she knew it. The thought made him want to glare at her as well, but he turned his face to the floor instead as he couldn't seem to make the expression go away. A hiss from his side brought them all back to their senses. "Set him down against the wall." Gary broke the silence.

Keagan nodded and let go of one shoulder as they turned and helped to lower Brock. Keagan winced the moment he saw the burn on his chest, starting from his upper chest and down to his upper thigh on one side. Having to help him walk was more due to his blinding pain then to any other actual injury. Even as he tried to suck in more air he winced and his breathing became shallow, short gasps. Keagan wasn't sure what that meant, but it couldn't be anything good. "Who can help him?" Keagan asked, strangely empty. He didn't know where or why his emotion had left him. It had just vanished. In the back of his mind he wondered, was anything going to come of this? All the years of Alexi waking up screaming, nothing coming of their relationship, only to come right back to the source. Brock running and coming back only to be injured with little promise of healing. All of them had escaped, only to find that they never really had. When Ash had gone a bit too far out of their reach they had instead gone for his daughter, Ash completely unaware. If he and Alexi did ever . . . get to that point, would he always fear the possibilities he couldn't see? Would Alexi even want that or would she be afraid to pass the chemicals in her body onto her children?

Would she ever get past her memories now?

Even as he asked the question of helping Brock aloud, his thoughts continued to spin in a never-ending circle of doubts and fears. Even when they were away from Team Rocket, the corrupted group still ruined all of their lives, only to pull them right back again, right on schedule. According to their whims.

His teeth gritted involuntarily. This was getting to be too much.

He realized that while he had been thinking, Gary had begun to look over Brock's injury. Brock looked distracted and faint, but after a moment he shook himself out of it, eyes still distant and laughed faintly. "Got anything?"

Gary looked up at him with a look of concern that still twitched in annoyance. "I'm thinking."

Brock laughed again, hitching his breathing when he did. The room was strangely silent. There wasn't anything to think about, and they all knew it. There wasn't anything they could do.

This hadn't been part of the plan.

When they had begun to venture to the base it had been Gary who had noticed the bulge in Ash's pack. It had been his snarky remark about carrying far too much that had ended in the opening of Ash's bag. And it had been Gary who had taken one look at the orb and nearly punched Ash in the face.

It had been Brock who had stopped him before he could hit Ash.

After a brief argument between all of them, most in Ash's defense, Gary had the opportunity to explain himself. His first words had been anger and questions to how he had never seen the orb before, why he had never known about it. And where had Ash gotten it anyway? As everyone else would probably remember it soon, Ash had simply told him. The orb had been at Misty's gym when they had first met. Ash had grabbed it. It had been his job to bring it back to Team Rocket as his first assignment. Alexi had stopped him and Ash had taken it back. After going to one of Team Rocket bases and rescuing Misty, he had wrapped it in a sack and shipped it down the river, still unsure to what it was supposed to do. Ash had found it years later under his daughters bed, vaguely remembering a time when she had hid something 'big and shiny' behind her back after a day playing. Her clothes had been soaked from the river. It had occurred to him then that the orb had never made it down the river. And his daughter had found it and pulled it out. He had shrunk into himself when he said thoughtfully that he didn't know why he had brought it with him. It had been a last second decision and it had just been right.

By the end of Ash's explanation Gary was holding himself back so that Brock wouldn't have to. Gary had hated living in the Team Rocket base. He had had special privileges, not because he was high in the system, simply because of what he was required to do. Every teenager who came through the building, cowering in confusion and fear, had started their lives there with an introduction to him. He had seen firsthand the mental destruction that came when a person who had lived their whole lives free was wrenched from their home and told that they were either to follow orders or lay down on a table to be experimented on for the rest of their short lives. Most of the time it was the latter, and that person's mental capacity did not last. Upon the understanding of their fate they broke, lost to sheer horror. How could he possibly support Team Rocket with those constant witnesses? Though sidetracked, that was where the orb came in, with the special privileges that is. Gary had often spitefully thought of himself as some sort of twisted version of an errand boy. There wasn't always somebody there to be 'eased into' rocket life. He was trained and given other assignments around the base. Already knowing many things that others there didn't, he was used to convey certain messages (things they would rather not spread around too many people). And as such, he often heard and saw a lot of things that others didn't. One of which had been the so called hunt for the orb in Ash's pack.

Gary told him then what it meant. The orb was in some eyes, a jewel. An exotic prize or artifact. But they didn't want it for a jewel. Formed literally from the power of a deceased pokemon, this orb could be broken down and the power used. Gary didn't know specifically what they would use it for, but perhaps the rockets didn't either. They only knew the vast power behind it. And now, Gary ranted, Ash was bringing it strait to them.

To Gary's surprise, Ash had only stared at him thoughtfully, not seeming upset or worried at all. After several moments of aggravating silence, he had slowly suggested a change of plan. Gary felt relief for a moment; sure that Ash was going to take it back. Instead he had asked Gary how they would break it down. Dumbfounded, Gary told him. They would place the orb in a machine, in the middle of the base itself. A machine that would break down its elements and do something akin to liquefying it. The orb had to be in perfect condition.

At this Ash's mouth had turned in the beginnings of a smile Gary could only think of as satisfied. "And if it wasn't?" Ash had asked.

Gary had only blinked. It had taken him several moments to find an answer. He knew that the orb had to be in perfect condition, but why? If it was just going to be broken down anyway, then why would its starting form matter? Gary was honestly flummoxed. After a few minutes of thinking over the question he thought that perhaps it was in the process itself. Breaking it down was done layer by layer, from the outside in. The core being the most powerful. The outer layers were to protect the true power within, though a bit of power did leak to the outside.

It was then that it clicked for him. They had to take off the guard of the orb slowly before reducing it's core and left over energy. So if the core was say, cracked, the power from the center would be leaking the entire time. Instead of reducing the power, they would be stripping the outside and hitting the core in the process. Can you strip power? No. The power and the process of stripping the guard would clash and then . . . either the power itself would be released, or the process of stripping would hit the core. The basic instinct left in the power itself would view it as a threat and attack the source it thought was trying to destroy it. Natural with raw power. Either way it was dangerous process: attacking the leftover reserves of power. In other words-in easy terms . . . "It would explode," Gary had whispered.

Ash looked between his eyes, smiled and raised the orb for him to see. A small hairline crack ran the side of it. "Good."

Ash's mistake paid off and the new plan had formed.

Ash knew Grant, and Gary knew how Casey worked. Gary stated that Casey, though seeming calm, was extremely rash. His training had taught him to be calm and collected, but his real lack of patience was there, carefully hidden. He was so eager for power and status within Team Rocket, that when something that may grant him power came, he felt had to act on it quickly, right then and there. And he rarely took the time to notice small details.

Grant was lower than Casey in position, so they weren't too worried about him, but he had been the one to do the kidnapping of Ash's daughter and Misty, and so Ash told all that he knew about him.

Generally Grant was a little crazy, but hid it well, again with training. He swayed lazily when he walked. He took revenge swiftly and reveled in it. On that note, he reveled in the pain of anyone, seeming to find it interesting or exciting. Ash never really could put his finger on him. For when Grant was surrounded by grunts he was calm, but alone he was dangerous and unpredictable. The fear he had felt when he found that Grant had been the person to kidnap his family went beyond the kidnapping. Much of the fear came from the fact that it was Grant who had done it. Even calm, his eyes spoke for him and portrayed volumes for his desires. A wild passion for action.

They could use these facts against Grant and Casey they were sure. And so, with their new plan, each person had been given a different job. Jobs they would all execute at specific times.

They hadn't counted on Mark. And he had changed everything. Even when Ash had stood across from him he had been fixing loopholes in their plan, focusing more on the people behind them then the battle. He had quickly taken into account the people that hadn't been there at the time of planning: Taylor, Skye, Michael, his daughter, and the strange boy beside her. They didn't have jobs yet. If he could just give them a hint. it would work. And Ash had continued forward with the plan. Hopeful, the others had followed Ash's silent suggestions. There was little but that for them to do.

And here they were, with Brock lying on the floor nearly faint with pain. Locked in a cell.

A few more moments of silence and Keagan spoke up, "Well, we have to do something. Can't we at least wrap him up?" Keagan began to move forward, offering his shirt or jacket as well if it would help, but was stalled when Gary put his hand up in the air behind him.

"You don't want to do that," Gary stated calmly.

Keagan grit his teeth. "Then what?" He asked, the feeling of helplessness growing. "Why not?"

Gary glanced back at him silently. "Trust me."

Brock seemed to come back to himself a bit with the words. "I know what you're getting at," he began to raise his hand only to drop it. "You can tell him."

Gary frowned and turned to Keagan with a full glare. "The burn would fuse to the clothes and with no water we may have to rip them from his body and make it even worse. So if you would stop offering suggestions and think about how this feels to him instead of you, it would be helpful."

Keagan's mouth fell open. He hadn't realized that he had been thinking about elevating his own feeling of loss, but it was true. Desperate to do something, he was suggesting things that wouldn't work and probably making Brock feel even more hopeless then he did. A quick nod and he stepped backward. Alexi frowned and looked to Keagan, knowing his intentions were good and how he must be feeling. She was just getting up when the doors opened again.

The entire group, minus Brock, looked over in shock, wondering if somehow they were getting out now, only to see a grunt walk past the two at the door. He paused, looked over the group, and started strait into the room. Three more grunts filled in the space behind him, showing that there were more grunts following then they had originally thought. One of the grunts at the door started in behind him. The group watched warily, all feeling a bit loss and wondering what action they should take.

Alexi watched the first grunt stop in front of her. The air in the room was tense and thick. Alexi looked up warily, suddenly thrust back into the mindset of her childhood. The grunt gave her a quick look, nodded and turned over his shoulder. The two grunts at the door came in and each raised a gun around the room so as to make the process quick and easy, and then he reached down for Alexi.

Alexi did the last thing she had expected of herself. She screamed.

Keagan was across the room in an instant, headless of the guns aimed at them. Luckily there were so many people in the room, and with Alexi's yell and his quick action, all facts came together to give him the time to make it to them without reaction from the grunts. The grunt landed on his back in shock as Keagan towered over him. Keagan found himself on the ground almost immediately as a loud sound echoed through the room, Alexi's arms around his stomach, both partially leaning over. Looking back he found her head buried in his back, body shaking and quickly realized what had happened. Alexi had known they were going to shoot at him with the grunt out of the way, and had pulled him down to the floor. She had been right; the sound was still sending ringing through their ears.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. Keagan was going to comment but realized they didn't have the time. Looking up at the grunts he found himself wrenched out of Alexi's grasp as the grunt on the floor rose and tackled him. Alexi could see the shock on the other grunts faces and knew that the grunt fighting Keagan was doing so out of anger and no other reason. But he was a grunt, he was trained, and strong as Keagan was, he hadn't been trained like they had.

It was barely moments later when Keagan landed with gasp of pain on the cement, his head pounding. Vaguely he heard the sounds of outrage, the scuffle of shoes, and then the grunt was on him again.

When Keagan hit the ground, the room finally exploded in movement. They all began to stand and were blocked by the grunts. Misty stayed on the ground and kicked the leg of the grunt nearest her. Taken off guard by one of the only people not looking him with daring in the eyes, he fell. His gun was taken instantly by Drew, as the others moved forward quickly to restrain him. Drake stayed with Taylor as she was standing so close to him, that he felt that he had to give her something to ground herself with.

May watched over the group as they wrestled the grunt down. There was no room to help, and finding him successfully restrained she stood up calmly. She remembered the second grunt and turned to look at him. Not focusing on her, she found it strange when the grunt glanced at the door, paled and lifted the gun to the nearest person: Drake. "Don't even think about it," May hissed more to herself. She stood quickly, made the short few steps between them and pulled Drake behind her despite his shock. Drake's panicked and aggravated cry of "mom!" drew the attention of his father. Drew's eyes widened from his position on the floor beside the other grunt. He rushed to stand as he saw the grunt go to shoot anyway. The sound of the gunshot rang through the room and halted all movement, with the other grunt down. Drew froze, his eyes wide, hardly daring to believe it. The room had gone silent. And then the grunt himself fell to the floor. Drew's eyes still hadn't left May and Drake. It took him a moment to absorb the fact that the grunt had fallen, and then he turned along with everyone else to the door way to see Skye standing in it, gun outstretched in his hand. Around his feet, the other grunts at the door lay still. Dropping the gun, he took a quick a look around the room, pausing momentarily on Alexi and then moved on hurriedly.

Michael leaned around the other side of the door, a small half smile on his face. "Everyone alright?"

A loud thud caused everyone to turn back to Keagan. He stood above the grunt who had attacked him and tried to take Alexi, shaking. Said grunt lay on the ground, unmoving.

Alexi blinked, staring in surprise at Keagan. It was a moment where most tried to figure out exactly how he had done it. But he only glared at the grunt wordlessly. Finally marking it off to the frustration in his eyes, Alexi whispered, "woah." Then smiled. "Um . . . good job Keagan."

Keagan's brow furrowed as he looked down at the grunt, as if just realizing what he had done. His mouth twitched as he forced it down. He didn't need to feel excitement over hurting someone, but beating a grunt? . . . .Well, that felt really good. And he had been trying to hurt them, so surely that balanced the guilt of knocking him unconscious?

"That was awesome!"

Keagan looked up to see a wildly grinning Michael. Deciding that yes, it was all OK, he turned to Alexi and nodded. Alexi shook her head but smiled faintly. She didn't seem to be bothered by it either.

After several moments of silence, collected breaths of relief came around the room.

The sudden break in the atmosphere wasn't shared by Skye, who didn't even try to make it seem like they were in a good position. His face stayed stoic as he briskly walked in, holding a ripped piece of cloth. "Michael," he called, when Michael still hadn't moved. Michael was staring at Brock, who Skye was standing over. He hurried into the room and pulled his back-pack off, pulling out two cold water bottle and handing them to Skye. If the group had had the mind to pay attention to Michael more than Brock, somebody might have commented on the fact that he now wore a Team Rocket suit like Skye, but all of the attention was on Brock, and rightly so.

Michael watched with a twisted expression as Skye folded the cloth up and poured the water from one bottle over it till it was soaked, using up half of the water. He then rung it out and knelt down beside Brock. "Get his shirt off."

Gary turned and began to rip the shirt from the holes that had been burned through until it was off and on the floor. For a moment Skye only looked over the burn, then with a look of loss and frustration he pressed the cloth to the skin. Brock instantly gasped and hissed, but as the cloth stayed he calmed a bit in slight relief, breathing still quicker than normal. Skye pulled the cloth back and again looked over the large burn, already feeling the heat seep through the previously cold material. "It's not enough."

Gary glared, keeping his face on Brock to hold onto his patience. "We know that."

Skye sighed and pulled back. "We've got to get him out of here. He's likely to go into shock."

Gary's mouth fell open. "Get him out? How do expect us to-"

"No." They looked back to Brock, surprised to see that he had been the one to speak up. "If we leave now, we risk everyone." Even as he spoke he hissed from pain and then nearly groaned in frustration. "I won't do that."

Everyone stared, not knowing where anyone else was on the subject. They all knew that he was right, but could they really risk keeping him there in that condition?

Skye stared at him calmly. "And if you pass out? You're no good to us on the floor."

Brock kept his teeth gritted against a new wave of pain and looked up to Skye with determined eyes. "I won't pass out."

After a moment, Skye nodded. He handed the cloth to Gary and turned to the room as a whole. "Then it's time to get started."

Eitan looked around the room in boredom. His ankle had been wrapped and it was already feeling steadier. He could walk on it, it just stung a bit. After being treated, he had been taken to Mark's . . . office? Eitan considered what to call it. Did it even have a name? With a slight twitch to his lip he remembered Mark's condescending attitude and decided that he had been taken to Mark's lair.

. . . Though the man would probably be less then pleased if he were to say the word aloud. He would keep it to himself. He frowned. Like everything else. For just a moment to tell somebody what was on his mind. What would that be like? He rolled his eyes to mark it off as trivial and continued his search of the room.

The room was highly decorated. Fancy. There was a shelf on one wall full of interesting things that he had never before seen. He was unsure as to whether they were for use or decorations. The only picture in the room was of a large gold building, and it hung on the wall behind the desk. The desk itself was covered in papers and trinkets. On the wall across from the shelf there was a low shelf with nothing but paper and folders. Curiosity getting the better of him, he moved over to it and leaned down to read the first Binder's side title. It wasn't a word though, just a number. There were six. 'For the six sections,' Eitan realized. Looking and the folders on the shelf he saw that they were separated by six numbers as well, with three extra sections.

Leaning over he read one of the three. 'Run,' was the first, and it was the smallest section with only one folder beside it. The second read, 'New/Old.' That section was a bit longer, but still very small. The next section was the largest of the three. It read 'Failed.'

Curiosity over coming him, he pulled out the first folder from the 'Failed' section. It was quickly apparent what it was for. Failed tests. Each paper had a picture of the person who had been tested on, what had been used, and what the affects had been. Looking at four quickly, he found that three of them read that the affects were death; the other was that the test subject had become deaf. He frowned and put the folder back, not entirely sure why he didn't really want to look at it anymore. He pulled off 'Run' next. The folder only contained a few sheets of paper, and was as the others, arranged alphabetically. The first name was 'Alexi'; the next was 'Ash'. Eitan stopped on this one, and again feeling uncomfortable he placed it back on the shelf. Still not willing to stop till he knew, he pulled off the next folder (New/Old). He found it filled with older children and young teens. The folder included their names and numbers and the numbers of their parents, specifying which had been in Team Rocket (sometimes both). Realizing what the folder was for, he flipped through it. Finding himself correct when he landed on Makaila.

For several moments he just stared at the picture. It was from about one year prior. For a moment he strained until he realized that he had taken the picture himself. Not with a camera, but from the school she had been attending. It was the only way he could think to get one with her looking strait at the screen. The background was blue, and matched her eyes. In the picture she sat strait, looking confident and happy as she smiled at the screen, hair pulled off to one side but just a bit messed. It somehow fit her. He felt his mouth twitching into a smile and with the realization he quickly closed that folder as well. Gripping the folder tightly, he placed it back on the shelf.

Just in time as the door opened. Eitan jolted and let go of the folder, straitening and blanking his face as Mark entered the room alone.

Mark looked at the shelf and raised an eyebrow. The folder was still sticking out part way. Recognizing the section and frowning a bit, he turned back to Eitan, who stood frozen, shaking almost imperceptivity. No one untrained would have noticed it. Without a word, Mark walked to the shelf and pushed the folder back in, then walked to the desk. To Eitan's surprise, Mark sat himself directly on top of it instead of in the chair behind it. "I have some questions for you."

With the simple statement Eitan turned and straitened once more. "Yes sir?"

Mark stared at him very intently for a moment and then motioned with a nod to his ankle. "Was that your only injury?"

Eitan nodded hesitantly.

"Was he protecting the girl?"

Eitan paused a bit longer this time, and then nodded, deciding not to test Mark's patience. "Yes, sir."

Again with the raised eyebrow, but this time with a bit of a smirk showing through he asked calmly. "Was it something that you did?"

Eitan stiffened. "Yes, sir."

With a soft nod of encouragement Mark asked. "And what was it that you did?"

Eitan schooled his features and answered quietly, "I hit her."

This time there was a pause before Mark went on. When he did speak it wasn't a question but more a statement to himself. "You hit her. An Instinct infused test subject attacked you because of it. . . . And you sprained your ankle."

Eitan took this as condescending and frowned, but pushed out the embarrassing statement of truth. "There wasn't much that I could do against someone like him."

Pushing himself off the desk Mark straitened his shirt calmly. "You misunderstand. I'm commenting on the promise you may show."

Eitan blinked, breaking form and repeated blankly, "promise?"

Mark rose his head and instantly Eitan fell back into the mindset of a well-trained grunt. It was easy to mark off when the man was sitting on the desk instead of towering over him, but when he looked him in the eye the gaze let him know of the power he held. "Promise. The idea may be misguided. I shall know in time."

Eitan wasn't sure how to take that, it showed what ground he was on, and so he said nothing.

"Come with me. I have something to attend to. We will talk of this later on." Eitan blinked as Mark walked strait past him and out the door, not even looking back to see if he was being obeyed. Eitan was fast to follow. They were soon joined by two more grunts, a bit older than him. Though they seemed more guard then anything and always stayed two steps behind them. When they arrived, the grunts stayed outside the door as Eitan followed Mark in. Moving around Mark, he was greeted to the site of Ash, Makaila, and the boy. One of which was thrashing and growling as he was pulled and pushed onto a table, Makaila yelling to the side as a grunt held her back.

Mark turned back to Eitan and the tension in the room didn't lesson one bit.

He smiled and stated calmly, with an underlying tone of danger disguised as a joke, "don't fail me. You won't like it."

Eitan knew it would be unwise to ask exactly what that test was. For all he knew, his job could be nothing but watching. Still, he held back the frown. Why did he do this again? Glancing into the room he saw Makaila fighting against the grunts, the boy being strapped down, and Ash torn between it all.

Oh. . . Right.

Because disobeying always led to that.

A/N So, better? Want to see the next chapter? Still sucks monkey socks? Let me know in a review and I shall pay you! . . . With another chapter! . . . Yeah! . . . Okay.

:P Hope you liked it! Now that I'm in the swing of this story again, I think that the next chapters are going to be better. We're so close to the end! I can only hope that it's all worth the wait! Let me know! And as always, thank you so much to my awesome reviewers, who even reviewed the previous sorry excuse for a chapter. :P Let me know if it's making more sense or if there is anything that I need to clarify. I myself have forgotten quite a few important details I am sure. I've brushed up all that I can, so I hope it continues to get better.

Note that Skye was wearing a rocket suit the entire time. In case you are confused, Skye used that to his advantage and in all of the confusion at the end of the fight, he blended into the sea of grunts and pretended to be one. He pulled Michael aside and they worked together to get everyone out. So, in a way, that was their unnamed job Ash was hoping for. Skye was a bit further along in grunt work then Ash when they were pulled out. He was trained well and he is still sort of stuck in that mindset. He thinks ahead and that was part of what Ash was counting on.