We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when...

But Super Effective was fun while it lasted. Stay awesome.

Two years later

Brendan had spent the last two years with no interference from an evil organization and no badge quest. Instead, he spent his time learning to cook with his mom, playing video games, and taking challengers like a real Champion. He even took a job as a practice battle for Norman.

He built a Secret Base just outside of Rustboro and pretty much lived there, but for today he was back at his parents' house, making a grocery list so his mom could buy him food, when he heard a knock at the door.

Lisia was waiting, and greeted him with a smile that still managed to distract him from reality. "I'm here on a mission," she said, after barely a hello. "As you know, my birthday's in a few weeks, and I want to ask you to come to my party. We won't be party age forever, you know," she added, tugging on her sleeve again. "My uncle even offered to give a battle demonstration for the guests, since most of us are Contest types."

Brendan snapped back to the present day. "Your uncle hates me," he reminded her.

"No he doesn't." Lisia seemed sure about that. "If he hated you, he'd be almost scarily polite...and maybe throw dog poop on your roof."

Brendan, who had trouble imagining Wallace even touching dog poop with a shovel, immediately asked for the story behind that specific situation. Lisia refused to give it.

"Are you coming to the party or not?" she asked instead.

"Why not? You've met my parents. Maybe I can meet your whole family."

'As far as the organization could tell, there were no warning signs.

One day, the young man came into work, did his job, and clocked out, as always. The next, he had blown up half the base and stolen their crowning achievement. But Wes had seen the wrong in what he was doing...'

May stared in disgust at the words, knowing that it was wrong but not sure how to fix it. Dusky, her test audience, perfectly mirrored her disgusted expression as he, too, focused too much on the little spots on the screen.

"No," May said out loud. "No, that is not something a publisher would want to see."

She fell back on her bed and closed the laptop, reaching for her dream journal instead. She'd known that writing would be hard, but did everything she did have to be wrong?

She shouldn't complain. She was fourteen and working from a dream she barely remembered. She had plenty of time and a Cool Contest championship to make the publishers notice her.

But she'd really thought she was going somewhere with this one.

Dusky's head cut into her vision, his eyes silently asking a question. She pushed herself up, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'll get it someday," she promised, and Dusky glanced back at the computer. "In the meantime, I think I'll look up something I probably won't need to know right now. I've always wondered how to make explosives..."

"Do you WANT to get arrested?" Dusky demanded, once again forgetting that May was not one of those lucky humans that could understand Pokémon-speak. "The last thing you need is to be on some kind of watch list because of your research. It's bad enough you're getting baby supply ads because you dared to look up pregnancy symptoms."

But, amazingly, she didn't open the computer. Instead, she reached for another one of her many, many notebooks, this one looking like an ancient leather-bound volume but was actually hard. Dusky recognized it as her 'spell book.'

"I'd better do that later," she said, cracking it open. "Dad's at the lab and I'm too lazy to go and tell him that I'm learning how to make high explosives. Witchcraft is way more fun, anyway."

Though he wasn't exactly convinced by her phrasing, Dusky settled down, knowing that there was not, at the moment, a chance that she could end up in prison.

Brendan and May had been through a lot together. The journey was only the beginning, and as corny as it sounded, their friendship really did get stronger with every passing day.

Of course, their other adventures had been boring in comparison. Even their trip to mall jail was short-lived, as Dusky had gone to the professor immediately and talked him into getting them out.

But that was a long time ago. This was now.

"I got an invitation to Lisia's fifteenth birthday party," Brendan announced when May walked into his back yard that night for their weekly chat.

May laughed and playfully punched his arm. "Way to go, man! They're usually Contest star-exclusive, since she has a hard time making friends outside of performances."

Brendan saw right through it. "You got invited, too, didn't you?"

"Yep." May stretched out on the grass, looking up at the stars. Tate and Liza (mostly Tate, not that she'd told Brendan that) had taught her a few important things, but she could never really make out any real constellations. "And Chaz, too. And I think all of Team Breakneck got invitations this year, since she didn't really know them that well the first time."

There was something else she was trying to hide, but Brendan knew what it was without even trying. "You're shipping me with Lisia, aren't you?"

"What?" May faked innocence. "You accuse me of shipping real people?"

"Don't try that on me," Brendan threatened. "I'm the one who got you in the habit in the first place."

"Come on, Brendan. When have I ever shipped real people before?"

"Archie and Shelly."

The answer was instant, and May was glad it was dark. She didn't want Brendan to see her blushing in embarrassment. He would never let it go if he did.

"That doesn't count," May protested. "I only ship real people if they're actually canon. Or when the only thing stopping them from being a thing is because one of them is the other's boss. With Archie and Shelly, I think it's both now."

If it wasn't, Brendan thought, he would be very surprised. Two years with no Team Aqua business would really clear up a schedule. But he didn't want to face the wrath of the remains of Team Aqua yet.

"Does Lisia do dress-up parties?" he asked instead. "I know she and Wallace are combining battles and contests to show off to the rest of Team Breakneck, but will I need a suit?"

"I don't know," May confessed to the sky, "but I'm sure that if you do, Laura can make you a new outfit."

Yes, there was that. Even though Laura had been the one to create the drunk genie costume, she'd done good work with Lisia and May and Pikachu over the years. There was enough trust there.

"What about presents?" he asked, changing the subject. "She's a celebrity, and so is her uncle. What do you get a celebrity?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm writing her a fanfic for her obscure OTP. You don't have the creativity to do more than a little picture, though, so maybe you can find a new Pokémon. I think she said something about trying to take the Gym challenge this summer, while Wallace is still active Champion. If she starts out with two instead of one, she can catch them at weaker stages without the worry of Ali squashing them all." She tapped her chin. "Or food. Food is always a good option, a love of chocolate is pretty much hardwired into girl biology."

"Food?" Brendan repeated, not sure if he'd heard right.

"Food," May said, proving him right. "Food, a new Pokémon, or something sparkly. She likes sparkles."

So no matter what his choice was, it was potentially embarrassing. But he was sure he could handle a little bit of embarrassment.

Then again, Groudon and Kyogre hadn't been this hard to think of.

"Brendan?" May snapped her fingers in front of his face. "You ok?"

"Huh?" Brendan snapped back to attention. "Yeah, whatever. How's your other writing thing working out?"

She groaned. "Not good at all," she answered after a long, pained silence. "I can't even find out a beginning despite having the outline done..."

"You've got time," Brendan promised, pleased that he'd distracted her. "So what if you don't get published until you're sixty?"

"You're right," May agreed. "I don't have a real criminal record, I can hold a job. Unlike some people, who will have to work for their fathers for the rest of their lives."

"That is low."

And, fighting and laughing as always, their journey continued.

In a more quiet, less destructive direction this time.