Chapter 12

So, someone pointed out in a review that there was a lack of filler scenes. A filler scene, for those of you who don't know, is a moment of character or situation development where the reader is introduced to an in depth portrait of a character or plot detail. They come in many styles, but ultimately fillers are used to add more texture to a story, lifting it up from the ground from an originally flat dimension.

That being said, I completely agreed with the reviewer. I knew I was being lazy in the "filler scene" department, mostly because even I have a hard time restraining myself from moving the plot forward.

I want to see Ash and Serena reunited as much as you all do. Trust me.

This chapter, though constituted of filler scenes, is crucial. Here we see more aspects of Ash's history, a moment during his five year disappearance, and his connection with Drifter and Akoni's connection to Ash. On top of that, I wrote in more development on Bonnie's character-I feel as though she was a bit neglected during the intense conflicts, but its important to see how her character has changed dramatically having to deal with the tragedies she's seen. It's like a twelve year old realizing that the world is full of Romeo and Juliets-tragic love stories-with plenty of murderous Macbeth's in between.

Another note: I'm bringing in more familiar characters (though new to the story) to add an outside perspective...We're getting a lot of information about Ash, Lunala, and the war at hand from the Purehearted, but what does the rest of the world see? How are they reacting to the masses of pokemon invading and devastating regions like natural disasters?

All this being said, I massively appreciate your reviews. They are super encouraging. I'm honored by all of the support!

"And reports have confirmed that Johto is now under siege. Kalos is completely fallen. Authorities are attempting to identify the cause of the massive swarms of pokemon, which are rumored to be in their dark version and mega-evolved. Officer Jenny has no comment on whether or not there are actual trainers behind the attacks, however, we have footage from the original attack in Glorio, where a man dressed in black came riding in to the palace on a Charizard in its ultimate form. Here is the footage now…"

Misty looked up from her cereal and stared at the screen. She spat everything out when Brock, Serena, and Gary appeared at the bottom of the grainy film. She scrambled up to the TV and shivered when a man dressed in black appeared, shooting out streams of blue fire from his pokemon. People screamed. The man turned towards the camera, for only half a second, and then the footage went black.

"Oh my freaking, God," Misty cried, looking back and forth, her hands waving in the air, not knowing what to grab first. "Freaking, hell. Holy sh—,"

"Misty, please," Tracy rushed in to the break room, looking aggravated. He looked back over his shoulder from the doorway and sighed, the kids they were training as a part of a summer program had already begun giggling and mimicking Misty's vocabulary. "What am I supposed to say to the parents when their kids come back shouting curse words! And what are you doing, anyway? You're supposed to be helping."

"Tracy, not now," Misty snapped and began dialing the number for the Pewter city gym, "hello, yes, I'm looking for Brock, is he around?"

Tracy watched her with his arms cross, tapping his foot against the floor.

"No? Can you tell me where he went…? That's okay, thanks for your time," Misty hung up and immediately began dialing another number.

"Misty, we don't have—,"

Misty lifted a hand towards his face and then pointed him to the screen. Tracy grumbled, but angled himself against the door to watch the news. They were repeating the reports, and Tracy was about to complain that he'd already seen them, until the footage came on.

While Misty was still waiting for her call to pick up, she silently mimed with aggressive points and gestures to the video. She tapped on the screen when Brock and the others showed up.

"Holy shit," Tracy muttered.

"Oooo, holy shit! Shit, shit shit!" came a high-pitched choir from the other side of the door.

Tracy jumped and began waving his hands towards the kids, "No, no, no! Stop! Okay, why don't you all go to the practice arenas and do some freestyle—but 2 on 2 only! Go, I'll be right there."

The kids all ran through the Cerulean gym, all excited about the prospect of battling. Tracy slapped his face with a hand and groaned.

"Yes, Professor Oak!" Misty shouted, much too loudly for the phone, "Um, do you know where Gary is by any chance? No? Mhm, mhm…okay, we'll be right over."

She hung up.

"Well?" Tracy prompted after Misty stayed still for a minute in deep concentration.

"Yea, we have a problem. Gary and Brock have been out of contact with anyone for weeks. Gary was supposed to compete at a Grand Tournament in Fuschia but was a no-show."

"He didn't show up?!"

"That is what a no-show means, Tracy," Misty rolled her eyes and began dialing more numbers on her phone, "I'm calling my sisters. They'll cover the summer camp for us while we go see the professor."

"Your sisters hate kids," Tracy remarked, but didn't stop her.

"So do I, and here we are," Misty began packing her things.

Gary wasn't sure if he was alive. He could feel his mind, throbbing within the inner chambers of his skull, but his limbs were numb. He couldn't move anything. When he opened his eyes, all he saw was darkness; pitch black oblivions. If there was anything in front of him, he couldn't see it. He's been like this for days, for weeks—he wasn't sure. All he could hear were whispers; small breaths scurrying along the sides of the darkness, sometimes coming close, sometimes staying far away. It was like he was just a soul now, without body of shape; formless upon the precipice of the dark, hopeless against the various forms of night coming his way. He couldn't even cry. He didn't feel tears.

In order to keep from going insane, Gary resided in memories. He thought of the lab back home, the small of grasslands blowing in from the fields outdoors. He thought of the forests, of tiny specimens he would collect with his grandfather and study together, watching microscopic worlds unravel at the tips of their fingers. The beauty of the unseen, visible to the two of them alone, under a magnified glass.

Why did he walk away from that?

Well, there was no glory in being a professor. Scientists didn't make the top 10 hottest trainers under 25. They were as obscure as the soil, taken for granted by the public, walked upon as though they didn't matter. Gary couldn't stand it. He wanted fame, power, wealth—everything that came from being what Ash had become…until he threw it all away—and for what? A piece of meteor that spoke in strange voices?

Gary hadn't understood until now. He was caught in the same trap. This…thing, whatever it was, promised everything Gary ever wanted. He had listened to it. And now he was here in the dark, alone. He would have a hard time believing his stupidity, had he been confident in his ability to resist the promises again. He wasn't. He could hear his mind—or the voices—he didn't know. They were still whispering those promises. Even in the dark, they told him that this was temporary. Soon, he would be needed, and soon he would have everything he ever wanted.

Even Serena.

Gary didn't even feel guilty anymore for wanting her. Instead, he was angry that she didn't want him. She was still in love with Ash, and this crucified him. How could she love a man who shattered her? Ash broke her in to pieces and threw her love in to the fire. He didn't care about her. He only wanted to be a pokemon master. Ash wanted that more than he wanted her. Gary knew it. Ash was never one to give up his dreams easily. They had become his identity. No girl would change that. Gary was convinced he could make Serena happier. Once he was powerful—more powerful than Ash—she would see.

These thoughts kept Gary alive. They prompted him to shout out in to the dark, "Whoever you are, I'm yours! Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it, but I demand what you promised me."

Suddenly, a cold gust of wind blew across Gary's face. He began to regain sensation in his limbs, growing heavy under from the weight of himself. He could feel the ground again; the cool, smooth rock of the floor; thick like the chains on his wrists. Something slithered by him, he could hear it. Gary felt himself turn back and forth within the darkness, sensing a presence surrounding him.

You called out to me? Even after what Ash did to you?

"I'm stronger than him. Let me show you," Gary said, trying to hide the tremble in his voice and in his hands.

But you're afraid?

Gary clenched his jaw. He forced back a choke and shook his head, "No, I'm angry."

The slithering continued like a sigh echoing off the walls of the darkness.

Good….good…what do you want, Gary Oak? I'll give it to you. Your faith is ressssilient.

"I want to be stronger than him," Gary said, his growing ambition strengthening his voice, "I want to be stronger than Ash."

Very well…let it be as you said.

Gary found himself lying down on the floor in a large empty throne room. The walls looked to be endlessly stretching up the mountain, vaulting up in to a fixed point at the ceiling, miles above his head. Polished onyx carved the floor, absorbing all color, and the only light came from torches of blue fire along the grey, stone ramparts of the circular room. On the throne was a dark figure, all shadows, no variation of detail. It formed the silhouette of a man, but the edges were waving about him, like a black fire rising and falling from a core.

All Gary could feel was an intense fear, as though this entity knew exactly how to manipulate and control his soul. He fell to his knees in shock.

Get up, the figure spat, and Gary did so.

Gary watched as the dark entity walked towards him, circling him as a predator would its prey, before making a final pounce. Gary tried not to shiver or cry. He bit his lip to the point in gave out blood and tensed his muscled until they cramped.

Gary, you are more powerful than Ash. I have given you the power you asked for. Now I am sending to off.

"Off where?" Gary asked.

Remember that you belong to me know. I can find you wherever you go and bring back to this mountain; to the endless dark. But while you are mine, my power is yours. Even Ash did not possess what you do.

"And what is my first task?" Gary began to grow excited, feeling a dark energy imbue his muscles and his hands. He opened his palm and found a blue fire igniting itself upon his skin. The sensation felt warm and exhilarating.

Find Ash and bring him to me.

Gary looked up. "Can't you beckon him yourself?"

Suddenly a sharp pain erupted from Gary's chest, as though a sharp blade were carving a mark in to his skin.

His connection to me is not as strong as mine is with you. You have given me everything, thus you will receive everything. Ash will soon realize his mistake. By then, he will be dead.

Bonnie remember a time back when she was a child; back when the world was soft colors, half-colored pastels, and it was easy to name what she saw. 8 years old. That was the time to be alive; back when there wasn't so much darkness diluting the truth, and she felt as young as she was. 8 years old. She believed in true love back then. She used to find herself hoping that, one day, a boy would look at her the way Ash looked at Serena; as if she were all starlight and sunsets, beauty marked by auric colors of the sky.

The clock struck midnight, and Bonnie was wide awake in her bed. She was thirteen now, just like that. Just because a clock ticked forward and pointed to the hour of change. She didn't feel thirteen. She bore the burdens of numerous lives, of her pokemon, friends, and family. How could she only be thirteen? She had seen unimaginable pain within the eyes of her friends, she had seen grown men cry and die and bleed before her; she had seen pokemon rip each other to pieces, evil at the height of its stride.

And now, her best friend was gone, possibly dead. A love story turned tragedy. Bonnie's breath quaked beneath the pent up sobs climbing up her throat. She was angry. She was angry at the brokenness of the world, angry that love didn't always win. She knew what Serena would say. Serena would tell her not to be angry at Ash, but to be angry at the evil in everyone. Even before all this, Serena knew that what happened to Ash, could've happened to anyone. Her pain had made her wise, and she could see things others missed. Bonnie understood that now. Bonnie wasn't angry at Ash, or at Gary. Bonnie was angry at evil; the twisted version of good, the depravity of mankind. How could she only be thirteen?

From across the room, she heard Kaleb shifting in his bed. Looking towards him, she saw him sit up, yawning, and rub the sleep from his eyes. "Happy Birthday, Bonnie," he said, smiling through heavy eyes.

Bonnie looked at him for a minute, and then broke down in to sobs; chest heaving wails that sought to bring back all of the dead through its sound.

Kaleb swung his legs out from under the covers and ran to her bed, holding forcing her in to his embrace though she resisted.

"I just want to go home, Kaleb. I just want to go home." Bonnie cried in to his chest, shaking against him, tremors like brief aftershocks upon each erupting tear.

Kaleb didn't say anything, as was his way. He only held her, stroking her light hair—silver in the moonlight coming in from the window. He stared out at the night, his dark eyes fixed with a firm determination. He wanted to tell that he'd keep her safe; that he would bring her home, but Bonnie didn't like it when he made things solely about her. Loving her was like loving a choir of hearts, each representative of a person she held dear to her soul. She demanded more weight than just love for herself. Bonnie demanded love for her world—every being and entity within it. Kaleb did his best to give her that, and he knew that Serena had been a piece of Bonnie's spirit he'd failed to protect. He didn't want to just bring Bonnie home, he wanted to bring her home whole.

He held her until she fell asleep. Once he was sure she was dreaming, Kaleb leaned back and closed his eyes. Then he let himself cry too.

Misty wasn't exactly a nostalgic person. She was a bit more black and white than she was sentimental—that's probably why her sister's always teased her for thinking like a boy. But it didn't really matter. Misty liked the way she was, always had. She loved her job at the gym, the smell of the chlorine and wrinkles the water imprinted on her fingers. At time she felt as though she was water—that is, the element itself—waving and sloshing easily from side to side, a slow rocking back and forth. She wasn't easily shocked though perhaps a bit temperamental; but she was good at adapting to storms.

So when Misty demanded they see the professor right away, Tracy wasn't going to argue. He knew this must be serious if it got her all worked up. He'd known her a for years now, and worked with her every summer at Cerulean, teaching new trainers how to fight with and against water-types. They had grown close, but not in a romantic way—more like brother and sister. They did a majority of their traveling together and often found themselves running within the same social circle.

They flew in to Pallet town on Misty's Gyrados. It was about five o'clock when they arrived, raining, and one of the professor's assistants was standing outside of the laboratory, waving them down. The scrawny scientist ran up to them with a large umbrella, and told Misty that the professor was inside in the incubator room.

Misty ran in and found Professor Oak standing at one of his portable video monitors. He seemed to be in intense concentration, listening to a chorus of voices all trying to speak over one another from the screen. Misty and Tracy crept quietly over to the professor, who spotted them and lifted a finger to signal them to come stand beside him, but out of view.

They began to listen.

"Oak, there are massive reverberations coming from the middle of the Southern Ocean, 300 km from the Kalosian shore. We have no idea what's causing it, what's—"

"—Rowan, your satellite readers are way off. I'm getting disturbances on the Western Sea, right in between Hoenn and Johto. Now, there sizable waves are—,"

"Gentlemen—Rowan, Cedric Juniper—please. Can't we all agree that there are multiple sources to the turbulence occurring all across the regions? According to my readings, the swarms have been coming from both locations we've mentioned. From one hub, there is a group moving to Hoenn. From Johto, they're moving to Kanto."

"What are you saying, Birch, I'm getting impatient."

Misty turned to Oak, who cleared his throat, commanding the attention of the other professors. His eyes were closed beneath furrowed brows, and he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

"He's saying that these are not swarms. They are deliberate attacks. The pokemon coagulate at a joint location, regroup, and then go—or are most likely sent—out towards their next target."

At this all of the professors began interjecting:

Impossible!

Why would someone do this?!

Who's responsible?!

"Gentlemen, these are not the questions we should be asking right now," Professor Oak snapped, his eyes opening wide with frustration, catching the surprise of his colleagues.

Even Misty jumped, startled by seeing Oak grow impatient. He was never like this.

"First, we need to figure out a way to prepare our respective regions for an imminent invasion. Unfortunately, ever since the Kalosian siege, we've lost all contact with Sycamore. But, Professor Elm, you were able to make it out in time. Do you have any details that could provide assistance as we conjure up a plan?"

Misty saw Elm's face nod at the bottom of the screen. He pulled out a notebook full of undecipherable scribbles. He began to read:

Pokemon were dark in type and color. Many different types were used, but somehow made violent by nature. Even the meekest of pokemon were seeking to kill. Pokemon that should be no taller than a door were as large as houses. A strange evolution, possibly ultimates. Attacked in large groups. Hundreds. Thousands.

"Were there any trainers accompanying them?" Misty interjected, causing all of the professors to lean forward, bemused, "With the pokemon; did you see any men riding them?"

None at all.

"Why do you ask?" Professor Oak inquired, curious and a bit anxious.

"The media has a video of a man dressed in black, standing by his Charizard. I couldn't help but wonder if there are more of him," Misty explained herself boldly. She wanted to enter this conversation.

Well, that solidifies your theory, Oak. Someone is behind this. Team Rocket, maybe?

Psh, even this is too scaled a scheme for a localized group of thugs.

"We need to take this to the police—to the headquarters of each surviving region. My guess is that they will call for mass evacuations. My theory is to defend with numbers. It may sound dramatic, but it appears as though we will need our neighbors to survive. Everyone conjured in to one place, using all the pokemon they have; a civilian defense."

No one is going to believe such a thing. People are always too frightened of disruption. No one gives up comfort so easily.

"Well, gentlemen, we are going to have to try. Tomorrow night, let's reconvene after we've spoken with the authorities."

All the men agreed, a couple begrudgingly.

Misty looked back and forth from Oak and the other professors. She felt as though so much more needed to be discussed, but suddenly time felt scarce. Everyone seemed to be under the weight of an invisible timer, counting down from an unknown minute—an unknown point fixed in space.

As soon as everyone had signed off, Professor Oak turned to Misty and Tracy, "I know Gary has somehow gotten himself in the middle of this—but I can't be consumed by that seeing as we are all going to have to play some sort of part in this chaos."

"Sir," Tracy began, "do you have any idea what's behind this? Who has this much power over pokemon?"

Professor Oak paused for a moment, as though he were contemplating how much to say. The old man led the two out of the incubator rooms and in to his office, where he pulled off his coat and rummaged through stacks of papers before eventually finding his single-strap bag. He threw it over his shoulder and began shoving papers, research, pokeballs, and his pokegear.

"I'm going to need your help," the professor said, typing on to a keyboard that flipped out from his watch.

"To talk to the police?" Misty asked, high from the adrenaline and thrill of situation's gravity. "Of course, we'll—,"

"No," Oak stopped her, allowing his watch to fold back in to itself, "we're going to the Archives."

"The what?" Misty deflated.

"You don't mean…?" Tracy began to ignite with excitement.

"Yes, we're taking a trip the Pewter City Museum of Science."

"….hooray…," Misty looked at both of them, her face shocked with disappointment and confusion, "I'm sorry—why is this happening?"

"The Archives are some of the oldest notes and files ever recorded," Tracy began to explain, fan-girling, "they're research obtained by the earliest scientist ever from all over the world. Anything you could ever need about ancient pokemon is right there in…"

Tracy trailed off. He looked at the professor and began to grow perplexed himself.

"Um, Oak. Why are we going to The Archives? What do ancient pokemon have to do with anything that's going on."

Professor Oak grabbed his identity badge and tucked it safely in to the front pocket of his bag. He looked at both young adults solemnly.

"This is not the work of man. I don't know if you've noticed, but," the professor led them to the window where the sun was just near to falling off of the horizon, "the days are growing shorter. Look at your watch. Six hours of sunlight, in the middle of summer…in the middle of the south. The night is far spent, and still suspending over hours it shouldn't own."

Just then, the sunlight slipped behind the earth and the darkness took over.

Professor Oak looked back at them. "This power belongs to no man. We're dealing with a very powerful pokemon."

Akoni Akela thought himself to be a man of simple pleasures. He was in his mid-forties, but muscular from surfing and swimming. He liked pinap berries, and sleeping in the sand on the beach. In truth, he could be a bit lazy; distant from any activity that constituted as real work.

However, Akoni could not ignore his fierce passion for justice; even if he actually had to put in effort to attain it. This, he reasoned, was perhaps why he had been chosen as one of the Purehearted from a young age. He could not think of any other explanation; the broken man he was. He wanted to see the world a better place, where love abounded and hate ran from hearts at the first sight of challenge. Akoni was an idealist, he knew that. One could even say he was a romantic—completely devoted to the idea of self-sacrifice if it meant another's happiness. He would step aside; let a lover go in to the arms of another if that was her wish. He did not like idea of keeping others from love, and he never grew bitter after loving. Akoni considered it an honor to feel so deeply; to lose himself in the romance of pain.

Akoni heard about Ash and Serena's tragic love story from none other than Ash himself. The Alolan had known Ash, back when Drifter was trying to help him break free from Lunala three years ago. The old prophet had brought Ash to Alola to help him find natural beauty; at the time Drifter had been convinced that nature was the elixir to all devastation. The two had stayed at Akoni's hut, which stood on stilts above the sea, connected by a wooden dock to the shore.

Ash had been a troubled mess; shaking and trembling all over. The young man had nightmares, he heard voices every night. He could not be alone in the dark, and so Akoni had him sleep in the living room next to the fire.

One night, Akoni had come out to grab a glass of water. He found Ash sitting on the rug, staring at the fire place, his arm resting on a propped knee.

"Still can't sleep?" Akoni had asked. He could see the memory as clearly as a moving picture. Even now. Even after all this time.

"No," Ash had kept his gaze on the fire, his light eyes catching the reflection on the flames, mirroring their turbulence and intensity.

Akoni had sat himself beside the young man—a boy in that moment, frightened; bags as heavy as the weight of the world under his eyes.

"What are you thinking?" Akoni had offered Ash a sip of his drink, and the boy had accepted, a small smile, parting through the troubles on his lips.

"I still love her,"

Akoni had snapped his head up. He remembered being confused, but Ash had often spoken out of context—too caught up in his mental war to be fully present in any situation.

"Can you tell me about her?" the Alolan had asked, offering the boy a wide grin.

Ash had responded by clearing his throat; a short laugh, an uneasy cough as he began to reveal a light blush. He then spilled out their story. He had told Akoni everything, from describing her beauty, her character, to the moment he first began to love her. He had talked about the way she made him feel loved, important, and how he couldn't lose her—but how he pushed her away—how he needed to save her from himself.

Akoni hadn't been able to fully understand him. The boy spoke frantically, his whole mind in chaos. But the Alolan remembers asking, "Why did you leave her?"

Ash had looked at him. His eyes had been red. He had begun to cry.

"I wasn't good enough,"

Akoni watched the memory over and over again. At times, he wished he would've said something at that moment. He wished he could've told the young man that he didn't have to be good enough—that this girl had chosen to love him, broken and flawed as he came.

But deep down, Akoni knew it wouldn't have done any good. Ash had been too far gone, numb to all truth, lost in the darkness of his lies.

Their love story broke Akoni Akela's idealistic, romantic heart.