AN: Peek again!

Mawile had come a long way, and she had a longer way to go. But she always, always knew where she was headed. To be Red's starter and see the world. Sure Fate and Destiny and that Oak human loved to throw in major obstacles around her path. Stuff like stupid spearows, hostile fearows, hair-chewing shellders, orange-heads, angry mother dragons and—

Wait a second, wasn't that list growing at an alarming speed?

Whatever. The point is she mostly knew where she was headed. Her black jaw told her the way, at least when everything else seemed to be thrown into endless chaos. One of the perks of having a large, black jaw, she supposed.

The world around her was rumbling, but that wasn't her issue right now. She wasn't planning to die, not after she had finally gotten everything mostly together. Not everything was perfect, of course, the world around her had gotten crazy, with fire and lightning and earthquakes all around, and while that was a secondary concern to her, it was because this crazy human and his black, dark and hungry pokémon trying to— surprise, surprise—

Kill Red.

The only thing near him was a tall, black-clad human with long, yellow hair and Mawile genuinely didn't care about her. There were bigger magikarp to fry, as the saying went, and Mawile had a ton of things to notice than some tall, cheap knock-off attempt of herself, only human.

And tall.

By poképuffs, was she noticing that bit.

"Those beasts look strong. And dangerous. What should we do, Boss?" asked the young snake-ling, slithering in the air behind her. At least something constructive had happened during that useless time spent uselessly at the useless ranch. The shock at finding out about her true origins had sent the little snake-ling reeling, but Mawile, unmatched in magnanimity, had taken the lost soul under her jaw, and taught him the way of the world.

Thus, her first official flunky was born.

Now only if she managed to learn something other than growling and emit vapors from her mouth. Mawile had played with the idea of teaching her Iron-Head by practicing on Shellder, but one skull-bash against the stupid shelly thing had given the snake-ling a pounding headache for hours. A failed attempt sure, but not everyone could be a master of everything right?

…

On second thought, maybe she'd try teaching it to bite next. That tall, cheap, knock-off of hers looked like she'd do appropriately.

"Boss?" Dratini chimed.

Mawile considered the large, three-headed angry dragon in the sky. Then she considered the hairy blackish brute on land. She looked around at the pokémon on her side. Finally she looked at Red and the tall, cheap knockoff—

She really needed an acronym for her. Bitch seemed appropriate.

Whatever. It was time for a game plan.

"The big dorks on our side don't have an ounce of subtlety in them, so we'll let them be the fodder."

Growlithe whimpered beneath her, as everyone's eyes centered on Mawile.

"Uhm, Boss, they can hear you."

Mawile tched. "Don't worry. I'm tiny and cute, and that brute is large, hairy and menacing. It's easier to spot than I am."

"...Uhm, they're still staring."

"Just stay still and they'll forget that you exist. Dorks are funny like that. That's how I got you from your foster-mother, remember?"

"…."

Growlithe whimpered again.

"Shut it, you puppy, they'll notice you." Mawile punched him in the nose. Which was kind of awesome given her tiny hands.

"As I was saying, when the brutes are busy fighting the dorks, we'll go in and win the trophy for ourselves. Just like I got you when everyone else was fighting your foster-mother."

"...what trophy?" Growlithe asked, because he was just that curious.

"Well," Mawile replied sagely, "That guy's the one issuing orders, right? So we get him, we get the others. Sides, we are many and they are only three—"

The bad human threw out several more pokéballs into the ground, revealing—

"..."

"...Boss?" Dratini inquired.

Mawile swallowed. The universe did love foiling her plans. She really needed to send a complaint letter to someone somewhere for that.

The boy who stood before the battered form of Samuel Oak was extraordinary in the sense of just how average he was. He was not handsome or dashing, The black hair that dropped down his forehead and almost hid his eyes from view prevented such notions from existing. He was not charming nor charismatic. His posture was stooped, back slightly bent, and what could be seen of his face, apart from the exhaustion, was absolute in its neutrality. There was no gravity to his presence, no weight behind his being. He was just a fourteen-year-old dressed in a suit that looked like it had seen better days, and was standing around people and pokémon far more influential and stronger than him.

Which made it all the more incredible since he was the figure that attracted Admin Proton's attention.

Not the majestic arcanine that had come to save the day.

Not the strange gardevoir levitating in the air that made even his grimmsnarls falter.

Not Delia Ketchum, and her mini-army.

But the boy. Red Fucking Ketchum.

"Boy!" Proton growled, spitting those words as though it were a curse, "What did you do?"

"What I always do," replied the brat, "Survive."

Proton bristled at that.

The boy. It was always the boy. Travers had died because of this brat, all because of his ill-conceived desire to save that stupid growlithe. Proton had no clue how the boy had brought about his apprentice's death, but anyone that could have taken down his apprentice wasn't something to be trifled with. It was why he had Sabrina perform the Initiation on him first. It would be perfectly poetic to see Oak's protege fall into Travers's shoes after causing his demise.

And yet, here he was.

Standing. Defiant. Uncaring of the dangers around him.

It made Proton wonder. Had the brat done something to Sabrina? His last orders before exiting the Museum had been very clear. Sabrina was supposed to initiate Red Ketchum without—

Proton stilled.

—fail. Initiate Red Ketchum. That meant Sabrina had delved into the brat's mind. Had— Had the brat done something to her? The boy's mother was a psychic researcher, which meant he had ample experience with psychic types. But surely that hadn't been significant enough to resist a professional of Sabrina's caliber?

It was then that his mind threw in seemingly normal bits of trivia, a collection of rumors he had heard circulating in Pewter City just weeks before the Event.

A psychic nightmare in Pallet Town.

Psychic surgery performed upon Red Ketchum in Pewter General.

A strange divergent gardevoir that was noticed around the boy post the surgery.

Gardevoir were passive creatures that stayed away from violence. Yet that weird, black-clad gardevoir seemed right in her element. Was it somehow responsible for the changes in Sabrina? Had it somehow… reconfigured Sabrina's psychic wiring and twisted his commands. Was that why she wanted to get the Pod back for the League?

…Wait.

She isn't our Sabrina. Neither is she yours.

Lance had said those words. It was possible he was trying to throw him off. It was equally possible that the brat's intervention— which seemed increasingly likely, given Sabrina's appearance, and the boy's own soon after— had done something to her, making her go rogue on him. Was she functioning on the boy's orders?

Proton shook his head. There were too many variables. Too many possibilities. Too many unknowns for him to create a plausible version of what had transpired at the Museum after his exit.

…Something to be considered later.

He glanced at Sabrina's fallen form. The girl was drooped all over the Pod, completely spent from the psychic exertion. The psychic cocoon had protected her from the Hyper Beam, a nigh impossible feat in itself. Hyper Beam was something even a full-fledged Alakazam would have trouble deflecting. To bear the brunt of that much damage only spoke of the potential his father had instilled within the girl.

Well, it didn't matter anymore. The girl was a rogue element, and rogue elements needed to be eliminated. Besides, she knew too much. And now, Delia Ketchum had arrived on the scene with Oak's infamous arcanine in tow. Even with his trusty Hydreigon Iegirth— which had sensed his presence and flown back to him— and the sole remaining grimmsnarl, it would be an uphill fight, given the plethora of pokémon the researcher had brought with her. Not to mention the ones surrounding Red Ketchum and the blonde girl.

Good thing that he had come prepared for such an , more than anyone else, knew how easy it was for people to ignore weaker pokémon in favor of stronger ones until it was too late.

"Out! All of you!" He yelled, liberating the other pokéballs in his utility belt.

The first creature that came out was a bipedal, ground-dwelling polidote. The second was a long, bulky quadruped with an inferno erupting out of its back. The third, an overgrown bat-like creature with draconic features and two large protrusions for ears that acted as sonic amplification and reception devices. The fourth was a Scyther variant, only cloaked in thick armor of rock, and wielded a pair of double-edged rock axes instead of organometallic scythes. A creature so bloodthirsty and ruthless that it made primeape look tame. And finally, the fifth and last was a large, blackish-blue avian formed entirely out of metal, that had instantly taken to the skies after release. An unstoppable juggernaut that roamed the skies and capable of tearing through almost anything while remaining unscathed.

Sandslash. Typhlosion. Noivern. Kleavor. Corviknight.

And that was excluding the large, blue, angular rock-headed Nosepass he had released earlier to retrieve his other Hydreigon Mierrerth's ultraball, that had been lost somewhere during the truck accident. Say what you will about the bulky, sedentary creature, but its magnetic powers were top-notch.

"Attack!" He yelled, and suddenly, things started moving a heck of a lot faster.

Just as he anticipated, Oak's Arcanine had dashed in the lone remaining grimmsnarl's direction, but Iegirth had been waiting for it. With a douse of dragon rage, the three-headed black dragon drew the line between the arcanine and the grimmsnarl, and registered itself as its primary opponent.

—Just in time for Delia Ketchum, with that Mr. Mime and golem in tow, attacked the grimmsnarl from the other end.

"Sandslash," Proton ordered, "run interference. Attack from under. Kill Delia Ketchum."

Between Grimmsnarl's ferocious powers and Sandslash's sneak attacks, he had the woman arrested. That left the kids and—

Proton considered the team before him.

"Corviknight, take to the skies. Tear them apart with Air Slash. Noivern. Sonic attacks. Typhlosion, set the land on fire."

He glanced at Oak's wounded form. No doubt the man would succumb to those injuries unless treated immediately, but none among Delia Ketchum's team was a healer. All he had to do was kill these nuisances, and keep that annoying arcanine busy until Oak perished. Sabrina was already down, which meant the Pod was now his to take.

He pulled out a small knife from his pocket.

Proton smiled. Maybe things weren't turning out as bad as he had thought.

What came next was…

Red swallowed. Yeah, he had been in a few fights. He had even done his bit against the TR guys in the forest.

None of it was like this.

What he remembered most was how unsteady the ground was. The earth had been torn to dirt by the forces brought to bear against it, and then doused by water so dense that it needed a new world to describe it. And that was without considering the multitude of pokémon fighting to the death on top of it.

The ground was a mixture of terrain so slippery that you couldn't get your foot planted. The terrain was so boggy that you couldn't tear your foot out of it again. Blood. Gore. Fire. Jagged rock fragments jutting out of the ground like raised coffins in a graveyard. All of them liberally mixed together.

Red watched as the three-headed draconic creature poured liquid light down on the ground, breaking Orca's stride. Dragon Rage, he recognized, having seen Dragonite perform something similar whenever she was called in for crowd control at the ranch, only mixed with a shade of violet, shining on the three-headed being's dark origins. He watched as Orca threw his maw up and propelled a thick shaft of crimson upwards, only to be met by a dragon rage from the rightmost head of the hydreigon. The leftmost one was busy condensing a strange, pulsing, ball of liquid blackness in its maw while the one in the center just growled around menacingly.

He watched as his own mother commanded Mr. Mime, and to his surprise, the golem— Travers's Golem, if that thick, jagged line of injury on the shell was any clue— against the lone grimmsnarl. That left—

"Oh shit!"

Planting his feet against the ground, Red leaped towards his right where Cynthia was, colliding with her and pushing her off the line of an air slash from above. Cynthia oofed and oww'd as both of them dropped upon the wet ground. He quickly rolled off her and stood up, regaining his balance. There were hardly worse places to be in a battlefield than on the ground after all.

A shadow of something large and heavy with wings crossed him. Red looked up—

And Up.

It was a bird. There was no doubt about it. But to call that thing merely a 'bird' seemed to be the equivalent of calling Dragonite a mere dragon or Mia a 'fairy'. There was no beauty there, not Skarmory's regality, or Mia's silent thrum of power, or even Orca's somber dignity. Two meters tall, at the very least, and a body crafted entirely out of metal so thick that it bordered on the grotesque, enormous wingspan and red eyes— all of those things were discomforting enough. But more than anything physical, the creature was horrifying because of the twisted, black aura it exuded. A numbing, empty void that seemed to make the world less just by existing in it.

What the hell was that thing?

"Skar—armory!" Red hesitated for a moment, a shaky finger pointing at the beast in the skies. "Take that thing down!"

Before he was done saying those words, Skarmory was already homing upwards into the sky, her ascent aimed at the great brute looking down at her. Red numbly watched as Cynthia commanded her own Braviary to move in that direction as well, before moving ahead almost instinctively, her focus shifting from the braviary in the sky that was working with Skarmory in tandem, to her gabite and a strange eel-like creature capable of unleashing quick bursts of electricity while levitating above the ground. The seemingly casual way she kept on commanding the three pokémon, all three performing their own set of moves, all the while analyzing the opponent and coming up with counters in a split-second was mind-boggling. It took everything he had not to pause everything and watch her battle in awe.

This was a gifted trainer, he mused. This was someone that could become Champion. This was—

He stilled.

—someone he had wanted to be. He, on the other hand, was merely an average trainer that was trying to make his pokémon fight their battles independently to overcome his own shortcomings.

But Cynthia? She had the potential to become great. Someone capable of standing next to the likes of Samuel Oak and Lance Wataru.

And she wanted to become a researcher.

The irony of that statement was not lost on him.

"Mawaa!"

His starter's yell shook him from his thoughts. He glanced down at his starter, and then towards where she was pointing at. Proton's typhlosion, a massive thing that was easily his height, and twice as broad. Bright, aggressive crimson flares shot out of its back as it galloped towards him, sparks of crimson flame escaping out of its closed maw. Racing beside it was the twisted Scyther-lookalike that Red didn't know existed. Was it some kind of divergent species that Proton had found out? Or was it from a different region? Either way, neither of those questions would stop the creature from cleaving him into two if it got the opportunity.

The thought galvanized him, and just like that, Red was in his element.

"Alright, this is what we're gonna do," Red commanded, "Mawile, use evasion tactics against the typhlosion. Scyther," — the diligent bug screeched in acknowledgement— "you'll engage that thing," he pointed at the other opponent. "Mia, your job is damage control. You got the force. Smash these monsters to bits."

Dratini swam through the air and settled comfortably around his neck. With that done, Red turned towards Growlithe. "You're with me and Mawile. You'll absorb any fire that comes for her. I'll trust Skarmory to work with Cynthia's braviary to fight that metal giant. And Mia?"

"— oir?"

Red grinned. "Wreck havoc!"

A cacophony of screeches and yells answered in acknowledgement.

Gabite's blades clashed against the monster's massive, gnarly limbs, barely able to sever through two or three of those cord-like things before it had to push back. The dragon pushed back by two steps before belching out a dragon pulse at the monster head on.

It made no difference.

"Thunder shock!" Cynthia commanded, watching the Eelektross quickly set the now torn tendrils into flames—

"Good now move on with—"

She stilled.

The flames had died faster than they had ignited. But why? Had it suppressed them somehow? An anti-flame chemical perhaps? It had these thick tendrils all over it, so maybe it was a grass-type? But that arcanine's hit had burned the other one to ash, so perhaps temperature was the key?

"Thunder!" Cynthia ordered, "Gabite, use Dragon Rage on the same point. Then use Thunder Punch!"

"Haa!" Proton barked, "not so easy, girl! Intercept! Then return with Mach Punch!"

"Reverse Flip and use Wing Blade!"

"Night Slash!"

"Dragon Rage! Eelektross, use Gravity on its left arm!"

Everything was happening so fast. Gabite was a blur of motion and energy. Eelektross was weaving through the two battlers with a slipperiness that only an eel could manage. Sounds tumbled upon one another so rapidly that it would be impossible for an average trainer to pick out or identify any given portion of it. Lights flashed so brightly that even the pokémon around them had to cry out against the intensity.

Neither she nor Proton were bothering with anyone else. She had simply ordered Braviary to follow a set of tactics, and much to her confusion, Red's skarmory was following something similar by itself, though she was unsure just when had Red issued his commands to the metallic avian. Between Braviary's versatility in the air and Skarmory's physical strength and tanking ability, they were more than able to resist against the Corviknight's attacks.

Delia Ketchum was already facing the sandslash and the noivern with her Mr. Mime, while Red was taking care of the Typhlosion. The Nosepass she didn't care much about, and Samuel Oak's Arcanine was engaged against Proton's hydreigon. And in all this while, her Milotic was slowly healing the Professor back to health.

"Incinerate!" She called upon Gabite, who raised his maw and threw out a thin lance of superheated blue flame at the grimmsnarl. The creature literally grabbed the lance out of the air, and disintegrated it, before punching the air itself. Cynthia watched with wide eyes as gabite was hit with a supremely powerful invisible hammer and sent flying by several feet.

Force manipulation? This thing was a fairy? This? But fairy-nature wasn't enough to disintegrate elemental energy like that. Stuff like that fell into the realm of Dark types. But Dark and Fairy both natures in one? That seemed like a perversion of the natural order.

Exactly the sort of thing a monster like Proton would have under his belt.

She changed tactics. "Gabite. Get close. Use Agility, follow with Wing Blade."

Gabite blurred again, as if multiple layers of himself had suddenly started performing multiple separate actions. Given what she knew about the grimmsnarl now, there were several potential possibilities about how it could and couldn't act. A dark type came with its own set of advantages and disadvantages, and if both natures existed together, then their vulnerabilities were more than likely to be compounded, in which case—

"Use Dragon Claw! Hit it in the head!" Cynthia commanded.

She was enjoying this. This— this constant foray into the opponent' shead, trying to peek into the way their minds worked, and adjusting and counteradjusting her own moves based on that, while thinking of every available attack possibility, while maintaining enough reaction time for her pokémon to follow through— it was just exhilarating. Like her own blood was singing, demanding her to do more.

Gabite took all his draconic power and condensed it into a single claw, and then literally vanished, using a combination of Dragon Rush and Agility to break through his usual speed limit, and appeared right before the grimmsnarl's head and—

"INTERCEPT!" Cried Proton, "Use Night Slash!"

Cynthia smirked. "Use Roar!"

It probably was a testament to how trained Gabite was to her fighting style that even in such a scenario, it was quickly able to switch its tactics, and let go off the draconic burst, something that all but went against its own draconic nature. It shifted the condensed mass of draconic energy to its own throat and let out a nauseating ripple in the air so loud that it might as well be a clap of thunder. The grimmsnarl was too busy obeying its master's orders, the night slash soaking with too much dark energy for it to try and use aura to strengthen its physiological defenses in the spur of the moment.

It fell down upon its knees, the Night Slash dissipating.

"Now use spin, and Dragon Claw!"

"Sandslash, Intercept!"

A spinning ball of superdense rock collided against Gabite's claws, forcing the dragon to leap backwards, as Proton's sandslash dropped down on the ground, standing in defense of the grimmsnarl that looked like it wasn't going to start fighting anytime soon.

That was alright. She had gotten what she had intended. And given how Admin Proton was gritting his teeth, it made her smile all the more.

"Who the hell are you, girl?" He demanded.

"Cynthia," She replied, flipping her golden hairs, "Cynthia Blackthorne. You called yourself a Wataru earlier. Surely you know what that name means?"

The growl that exuded from Proton's mouth sounded angrier than before, which logically should have been impossible. "I'll kill you."

Cynthia grinned innocently. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that."

This creature wasn't like him.

It might have looked similar. It might have carried itself in a similar posture. Hell, even its attacking style might have been superficially similar to Scyther's own, but those were the barest and most unimportant surface details only. There was only one thing that mattered in determining who this truly was, and it was proven very, very quickly.

Every time the strange creature's blades slammed against Scyther's own, he felt nothing. Not the absence of sensation, no, he felt nothing. There was no familiarity that came with rock striking on metal, no lingering comprehension of the way the other opponent wielded their blades, no experience of someone that had mastered its craft from intense and diligent practice. Nothing. Instead there was this numbing, empty void that seemed to make the world around him less with every pointless, mechanical stroke of blades he cared nothing for. If someone had told Scyther that this creature was actually a toy fitted with blades, he would have readily believed it save for the fact that a machine would have just felt dead.

And to think, it was probably a variation of his own species. Knowing his luck, it was probably a poor scyther that had been experimented upon by those 'men-in-white' growlithe often spoke about. Scyther had no clue what this 'lab experimentation' crap was about, but it sure sounded ominous.

None of that was, unfortunately, going to stop this creature from cleaving him in two.

"Use Stone Axe!" cried the evil man Red was facing.

And immediately, the attack pattern changed.

The bladecraft was hideous. Disgusting. The empty cleaving of a butcher, without regard to skill or artistry. But it was fast and strong, and even defending against this monster made Scyther's mind fog over. It wasn't just that he was weaker, what with wielding metallic scythes way inferior than those giant double-edged axes the not-Scyther was wielding; but he actually felt weaker in his mind. More important than any physical differences, it was that mental gulf that was beyond bridging.

Scyther did not want to kill anyone. Both Paul and Red had told him about the dangers of such an act. Repeatedly.

This abomination didn't want to do anything else.

Every single strike from those utilitarian murder tools was lethal. Scyther whipped his left scythe across his chest, pushing the creature's stone axe, only for it to make a stab at him from above using the other axe at lightning speed. Scyther pulled back, with the creature following suit, its dual axes already striking at him from multiple angles, the mechanical stroke of a guillotine descending for his neck, wings and abdomen. He couldn't possibly bring up a scythe in time, and the only alternative was—

Trees, Skarmory will never let me live this one down.

Rather than trying to bring his scythes up, falling into a disadvantageous position that would most likely not work, and leave him open to another gutting blow even if he succeeded, he shifted his body just slightly, forcing the cleaving axe coming in for his wings instead of the shoulder. A minor distinction, since both would be a killing blow—

And then he started vibrating them.

The creature's eyes widened briefly in surprise as it caught sight of what he had done, but it was a little too late. The rock axe smashed against his vibrating wings and—

A buzzing sound permeated the air.

—got ripped apart like flesh through a grinder.

"KLEEEEE!" The creature screeched, rage, agony and anguish rolling off it in waves.

Scyther heard the human curse before ordering the creature to commit to using X-Scissor, whatever that was. The only thing he could observe was large quantities of poisonous violet aura permeate the solo rock axe. The next thing he knew, he was throwing himself back, as the axe tore through the space his neck had occupied a moment ago, the sharp edge of the blade skimming so close to his throat that he could feel it on his skin as it passed. His dodge had left him momentarily off-balance, and in the short amount of time it took him to regain his footing, the creature was already on him.

CLANG!

Rock blades clashed against the scythes he had hastily brought up before his face. Just the sheer force behind the blow was enough to send him tripping down and falling upon the ground. He hit his still vibrating wings, causing several jolts of hot pain shoot up his spine, but Scyther was too busy turning to his right, just a split second faster than it took for his maddened opponent to come piercing through the terrain where his head had been. Scyther beat his wings faster, trying to use Bug Buzz as a defensive maneuver like Red had taught him—

"STONE EDGE!"

A wave of something crashed against him. Before Scyther knew it, he was tumbling down, skidding across the terrain, one of his wings fractured and the other significantly damaged, and one of his scythes chipped at the edges. He hit against a sharp rock on the floor, the jagged surface digging up his spin, causing him to cry out in agony. But the real threat was up in the air, where the crazy creature was swooping down at him like an arrow, its solo axe pointed at him, and covered with a pungent violet aura around it. Scyther tried to push his blades up, doing his best to ignore the pain before he got spliced into—

WHAM!

An invisible hammer of cosmic proportions hit the rock creature like a runaway truck head on, flinging it away. The creature crashed down into the terrain in a cloud of dust and erupted rock.

It did not move again.

Scyther slowly craned his head and watched Red's strange gardevoir, who was actually a Mia— flutter in the air as she slowly descended right next to him.

He absolutely didn't flinch.