Obsession

by TheeRose

Someone once said, "Obsession spurs only brilliance or madness." Ash wonders which applies to him. After losing the person that matters most to him at a young age, a change of fate leads him down a path of either greatness or desolate failure. With an unlikely starter, an obsessive personality, and a sarcastic-streak a milewide, he's willing to bet his life that it's the former.

4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Celadon

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"Another challenger?" Erika questioned, her voice high-pitched yet calm, projecting a serene air around her. Ask anyone who had spoken to her for longer than a moment. They would tell you the same; it was difficult not to get sucked into the peaceful atmosphere she effortlessly created.

Melony bobbed her head. "Yes. Ash Ketchum from Pallet Town. Two badges."

"Pallet Town, hmm? That sounds like the place that Oak boy hailed from. How long has he been a trainer?"

"A little more than two months, Ms. Erika."

Curious.

"Let him in, please, Melony. I'll gather my team."

Melony smiled cheerfully. "Of course."

Erika stepped to a pristine wooden dresser. She trailed her fingers from the top all the way to the bottom two shelves. Pulling the drawer out, she removed the three pokeballs that remained inside, surrounded by memory foam. By the time she reached the verdant grounds, she saw whom she presumed to be the challenger walk leisurely beside her lovely assistant.

He was casually dressed, like most trainers, unfortunately. His clothes were in shambles, however, which brought her an even greater sense of despair. The boy's jacket had holes she could see from here, as did his pants. He was fairly handsome, though—very, in fact—long shaggy hair and focused but otherwise dull, uninterested eyes.

Disappointing. He could be much prettier if he took care of his body more.

The twinge of her lips and the crease above her stunning eyes conveyed those feelings adequately.

Nonetheless, there was a subset of trainers she met that had eyes like that. They tried to create casualness in the sense of apathy or general disinterest. It was a valid approach, as more often than not, it worked.

This one was different, somehow. He wasn't trying to adopt a mentality that was not his own. This young man was genuinely indifferent to his situation. The way he walked—calm and methodical—he put more care into his steps than he did focusing on his surroundings. He was mindful of them yet remarkably unconcerned. As if everything and everyone else around him meant nothing to him.

"You must be Ash Ketchum," Erika murmured captivatingly. He rewarded her obvious assumption with a nod. "It is a pleasure to meet you." The teen's lips twisted accidentally. He, undoubtedly, wasn't expecting a friendly introduction. Yes, battling Brock of Pewter and those girls from Cerulean would do to him. "You seem like a man of action, so I will not bore you with pleasantries."

He gazed over at her, eye contact made. The two held stares suspensefully. It wasn't until the referee introduced himself that Erika retracted her gaze. The most appropriate term to use to describe her was elegant, from the meticulous, delicate way she moved all the way up to her aristocratic tones. Everything about her screamed dignified.

"This battle will be a three-on-three." Even the male referee sounded stately. It was enough to make Ash roll his eyes. "It will continue until either the challenger or gym leader surrenders or until either party's pokemon has been defeated. Both the challenger and gym leader will be allowed to substitute pokemon as they wish. By these rules, the gym leader will send out her pokemon first."

When Erika sent out an incredibly young Victreebel, he sent out Clefable. The gym leader hummed at his choice but gave no verbal comment. Ash knew for a fact it had only evolved a few days ago, maybe even less, depending on how vigorous she was in training her pokemon. Ash was beginning to have doubts, now that he'd seen the Sensational Sisters and their own lusterless training methods.

Then, the battle began, and Ash made the first move. He knew he would have to. Erika, from what he could gather after reviewing a great deal of her relevant battles, was primarily a defensive battler. It was a far cry from the Sensational Sisters, or even Brock, for that matter.

Although his preferred method was somewhat similar to hers. Only in the sense that Brock usually allowed his opponents to attack first. But he did that for the sole purpose of using his opponent's lack of foresight, knowledge, and direct planning against them. Battling someone who favored a counter-attacking style was infuriating. Brock truly was the one he was most concerned with out of the three he faced, including Erika.

"Sing."

When Clefable tried to his voice's whimsical charms, Victreebel stiffened, its head tilting over. But then, its eyes livened, and Erika made her move in the wake of his surprise.

"Stun Spore, Victreebel!" A cloud of pale yellow fog leaked out of its mouth.

"Don't let it hit you. Get in close and use Pound."

Clefable bounced from the tips of his toes, gracefully hurdling over the cloud. A small fist bound tightly, he swiped, missing in the process. For such a massive target, Clefable had trouble even getting close to Victreebel.

"Be a dear, Victreebel, and use Acid," Erika requested placidly.

Ash grit his teeth. She's not even taking me seriously.

That's fine. He'd give her a reason to.

"Reflect."

A glimmer enveloped Clefable. The Flycatcher Pokemon spewed violet liquid from its top-cased mouth. When the super-effective move made contact, Clefable whimpered. Light scratches layered his arms where he had attempted to defend himself.

"You do know that Acid is a special attack, correct?" Erika called out. "Reflect's defense increase is useless."

Ash exhaled, allowing his tense shoulders to relieve themselves. He adopted his casual posture once more, honing his focus. Erika regarded the abrupt change in body language with thinly veiled curiosity.

"Attack. Keep attacking, don't let it gain distance." Clefable cried affirmatively, dashing forward. "Lead with Pound."

Once again, the swift Victreebel evaded the sudden attacks. That was fine, though. Clefable didn't need to land every single hit. One would suffice. Clefable and Victreebel were both on equal standing in terms of raw physical power. One hit would stagger it long enough for him to pull out his ace.

"You want to battle in such close proximity? Very well. Victreebel, use Vine Whip, please."

The pokemon willed a vine to spear out of the grass below them. Clefable, not known for their speed or inherent dexterity, could not hope to dodge such a sudden attack. Ash hadn't even expected it. He thought the vine would sprout from Victreebel's own body, not the ground itself. But he accounted for unexpected moments.

Reflect blunted the blow, if only a bit. What they were known for, however, was absorbing a formidable amount of punishment.

Keep going, he chanted. Clefable managed to evade a sum of the next few swipes of Vine Whip. With Clefable's fair defenses, which were bolstered by Reflect, those Vine Whips hurt far less than they should have. While Reflect did not negate damage, it did halve it. Considering that Vine Whip wasn't the most powerful move, even before the Reflect, Clefable was able to take a few of them without faltering. Although Ash knew that those strikes would mount up eventually.

Finally, after dozens of attempts, Victreebel made a mistake. It dodged left instead of right, and Pound struck cleanly. In the tiny moment of flinching, Ash capitalized on it.

"Ice Punch—now!"

Erika's eyes swelled. Ice Punch? "Get out of there, Victreebel!"

At such close proximity, Victreebel had no chance of evading it. It took longer than Ash would have liked for Clefable to form the Ice Punch, though. It must've been due to the damage he sustained earlier. Perhaps Clefable was hurting more than he anticipated. If so, they had to make this Ice Punch count.

And it did.

Clefable's crystalline fist battered Victreebel's bulbous body. It cried its name. Erika leaped into action.

"Snap out of it and use Bullet Seed!"

It grunted at her command but spat a hail of small brown projectiles. Despite it being a long-range attack, it was still a physical attack. Which meant Reflect shielded Clefable from half of the damage. Even so, the fairy-type was not in the best state. He needn't be ordered to dodge. Clefable understood his body's limits. Tanking that attack would only put him closer to certain defeat. One bullet skimmed his arm. Barely a scratch. That would not have been the case if Clefable had been arrogant under the effects of Reflect.

"Dazzling Gleam."

To resort to a fairy-type attack against a poison-type… that must be his only ranged attack. It dawned on her. I see. He must have spent all his time training Clefable Ice Punch and neglected the importance of having a neutral or super-effective attack against poison or grass-types. That will be the error that loses him this match.

After that massive Ice Punch, much like Clefable with Bullet Seed, Victreebel was hasty to avoid the attack.

"Acid!" Erika shouted; somehow, her voice still retained that calm tint. A gullet full of poison erupted from its mouth.

"In the air," Ash ordered.

Erika smiled. "Bullet Seed. Finish it."

Ash tsked. Clefable can take it, but this will be our only shot.

"Tank it!"

"What?!"

Clefable trusted his trainer. If he thought he could absorb the damage, then so did he. The pain was immense. It wore down on its injured, scratch-addled body. But Ash was correct. He was still conscious and mobile. Ash merely pointed onward. Clefable bolted over at Victreebel. His legs ached; God, they hurt more than anything. The idea of quitting wormed into his mind.

It was squashed with a vengeance.

"Don't let it close," she warned, "Vine Whip!"

Please hurry, Victreebel.

Predictably, the ground beneath them shifted, a low rumble echoing as thick, sinewy vines exploded from the earth. They weren't just striking—they were hunting, slithering through the dirt before launching upward with a violent snap. They struck upward, coiling and snapping in fluid motions.

Ash smirked.

Checkmate.

"Protect."

Protect? Protect?! Why didn't he use it in the beginning?

He… he allowed his poor pokemon to sustain this amount of damage for what?! To use it as a surprise?

A transparent shield caused the vines to explode inches from Clefable's body. Suspended in the air, glancing downward, the shield that surrounded him shone brightly. Then, smiling in triumph at his trainer's forward-thinking, he cocked back his fist. He didn't need to give the order. Clefable knew what his trainer wanted from him. He knew now more than ever before.

Yet, Ash still said it.

"Ice Punch." Cold, concise, not a twinge of emotion in his voice.

Above Victreebel, the fairy-type rammed its ice-coated fist over the back of Victreebel's body. The Flycatcher Pokemon fell face-first, unmoving. Clefable landed next to it, stumbling, his footing uncertain.

Erika mutely returned her pokemon. She glossed her thumb over the silver button. I am sorry, Victreebel. I failed you. You did your best, my friend.

"Why did you not have your Clefable use Protect before?" There was genuine fury in the gym leader's tone. It surprised him, even if he did not allow it to show. "You could have saved it from a lot of pain."

"And a trainer of your caliber would have adapted, found out a way to work around it," said Ash, much to her surprise. She thought—she thought it had been for petty cruelty, that, maybe, he wanted his pokemon to suffer. "I needed you to believe that Ice Punch was our only trump card. Protect would only work once against a trainer of your caliber and style. I had to make it count. Do not assume you know my pokemon better than myself. A few bruises or a couple of cuts is nothing to them. They would subject themselves to far worse if it meant winning."

As would I, went unsaid but was inherently understood.

"I understand. Forgive my anger towards you. Shall we continue, Mr. Ketchum?"

He answered by whistling. Clefable perked up and wobbled back over to his side of the field. The precious pokemon was exhausted, yet it seemed like Ash intended on keeping it on the battlefield. That… that was a mistake she could abuse.

"I choose you, Tangela."

A pokemon that could only be described as a loosely humanoid form covered in blue vines. Its large white eyes were more than unnerving. They were almost unfeeling, detached from any sense of emotional sentiment.

"It is your move," Erika voiced pleasantly.

Ash replied with, "Dazzling Gleam."

"Poison Powder," she cut in swiftly. "Then Constrict." That level of decisiveness he hadn't expected from her. Ash would have berated himself if he had the time for such self-condemnatory thoughts.

A faint glow fizzled in front of Clefable's singed palms. They faced the mono grass-type. Tangela sank thick bluish vines into the soil. That glow brightened, but before Clefable could release that pent-up energy, those thick vines appeared behind him. They wrapped around Clefable's feet, tying firmly around his ankles. A cry followed as Clefable could feel them coiling painfully around his joints.

Ash acted appropriately. "Ice Punch to free yourself."

"Throw it into the wall." Before Clefable could even think about summoning the ice, he was airborne. His back crashed against a metal exterior. Wincing, Clefable pushed himself onto his knees, gasping. "Giga Drain."

Green blips of energy leaked from him, and instantly, he stumbled. His eyes were shut as he hit the ground. Ash stared down at Clefable's unconscious form, an indecipherable declaration written on his face. Eyes closed, he returned him, pocketing his pokeball.

I should have returned you after that last battle. That's my mistake. You were at your wit's end. But you did as great as I could have asked for. You played your role brilliantly.

"Your Clefable is young," Erika said delicately.

"He is," Ash confirmed. Clefable was a non-factor in this battle now. He saw no reason to not appease her curiosity. She was not the only one who was curious. Misty hadn't shut up for days when he introduced the two. "I found him as a Clefable. From what I could gather, he evolved in haste, not long after he evolved from a Cleffa."

"See to it that Clefable does get the training it deserves. It is always such a sad sight to see pokemon not live up to their potential due to a trainer's incompetence."

"I don't know a lot about fairy-types. Not as much as I would like. But I'm learning for his sake."

"Continue learning, then. That is all I have the power to ask. Clefable are pokemon with nigh-limitless potential. It is rare to see one with such fighting spirit. I bet that's what attracted you to him and him to you."

Ash smiled faintly. "He's the least intimidating out of all my pokemon, but he's determined."

Erika mimicked his soft look. "He will take you far if you let him."

"It's my intention to do the same thing."

Unlike the referee in Cerulean, this one did not interrupt. He mediated and held up the rules. If the resident gym leader wished to chatter with a challenger, that was her business. They were not breaking any rules, so he had no place in interfering.

Another pokeball appeared in his hand. Ash tossed it into the field, and Gastly phased into existence in a white light.

"A ghost-type for a trainer so young…" Erika honestly didn't know how to feel about this. Usually, ghosts were regarded as one of the three more… arduous types to raise.

Dragons, ghosts, and dark-types. Dragons for their raw power and indomitable personalities, ghosts for their volatility, and dark-types for the mystery that was shrouded in them and their commonly violent behavior. Ghosts were, perhaps, the least dangerous of the group to train, but they still required a considerable deal of foreknowledge about their typing before even thinking about training one.

Ghosts were similar to dragons in that they wouldn't obey a trainer's commands who they believed weren't worthy of their power. They weren't necessarily arrogant or prideful. Not on average, anyway, but they were precarious creatures. Erika would not proclaim herself to be an expert in ghost-types. She knew what every gym leader should.

No rookie, mere months into his career, should have a ghost. Yet, when the Gastly took the field, it did not seem disturbed. It appeared… ordinary. Ordinary for a ghost, in any case.

It didn't display any antagonistic tendencies toward its trainer or anyone else for that matter. Clefable, for God's sake, had a meaner glare than this little thing.

"I hope you don't mind if I make the first move again?" Ash did not wait for a response. "Start off with Toxic."

To her surprise, it actually listened. Gastly fluttered about, grinning madly. Its gas formed a pocket of gel-like substance. Strangely enough, it phased through its skull and rested in its mouth. Gastly grinned mockingly, spewing a globe of poisonous liquid at her poor Tangela. When her pokemon was struck, she severed her own hands to cease the spread. Erika saw the innate fascination in the boy's eyes as Tangela regrew her limbs.

"Well, that's one way to deal with Toxic. Does that thing even feel pain? I can't imagine that would have felt pleasant," she heard him mutter sarcastically.

He actually obeyed him… I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He has two badges already. This boy, he doesn't seem arrogant enough to send out a pokemon that won't listen to commands. But the mere idea of an inexperienced trainer quelling the instability of a ghost is mind-boggling.

Her musings would have to come later. No matter how disturbed she was by these turn of events, she needed to focus on the matter at hand before letting her mind wander. Lord knows she had a tendency to do that often. Her fellow gym leaders would frequently comment on her so-called ditzy behavior, much to her ire.

"Constrict," she uttered calmly.

"Confuse Ray," he countered. "Then Venoshock."

A decent counter move, one she had anticipated, though. A

Erika agreed with the saying, "Sometimes the simplest option is the best."Confuse Ray followed up by a super-effective poison-type move was constructed off the basis of a common battle strategy. Lead a status-effecting move, then, when the pokemon moves to dodge, strike with a damage-dealing, super-effective attack. It was usually effective.

In battle, from time to time, that was true. Creative techniques, intricate plots, and clever schemes all had their place in battle, Erika had no problem admitting. But sometimes, simplicity was best.

Her Tangela evaded both perfectly. She was an agile one. Tangela was smaller than the average of her species, but she was also more gifted with using her vines to maneuver. Her full-grown Tangrowth, one of her oldest pokemon, taught her how to abuse her unique anatomy. Even if her older Tangrowth was a massive, burly example of his species, he still had plenty of wisdom to impart to younger grass-types. Especially a graceful Tangela. She then used her extendable limbs to pull herself to a tree.

Both attacks missed her by a mile.

"Venoshock again," her young challenger reiterated.

A glob of toxic substance poured on the bark of the tree Tangela had hung off of. The grass-type swerved around it, climbing to the top. Then, she vaulted from the peak, heading backwards.

"Constrict."

Once again, those bluish limbs rushed outward. Gastly hadn't expected it to attack while fleeing in midair. His trainer had not either if his slightly parted eyes were of any indication.

Now, let's see how you do with this.

"Icy Wind."

Immediately, Erika was alert. "Quick, sever your arm!"

"Don't let it detach," the boy ordered pressingly.

He's ruthless… in this context, she was not sure that was a positive quality.

Gastly latched onto Tangela's arm, his jagged fangs sinking deep into the mass of vines. A chilling mist seeped from Gastly's mouth, spreading like a creeping fog over Tangela's body. The icy breath of Gastly's attack caused Tangela's vines to stiffen and crystallize, frost forming in intricate, sharp patterns as the cold traveled swiftly across its limb.

Tangela's bright, vine-covered body twitched in pain as the frost began to crawl up its arm, threatening to consume it entirely. The ice expanded relentlessly, encasing the writhing mass of vines in an ever-thickening layer of frozen crystals. It crackled as it spread, the creeping frost shimmering in the pale light, moving almost as if it were alive.

Desperation flickered in Tangela's large eyes as it realized the danger of being entirely frozen solid. Without hesitation, it made a brutal decision. The vines that formed its arm convulsed violently, and in one swift motion, Tangela tore the frosted limb from its body. The severed arm, now completely encased in ice, hit the ground with a heavy thud, shattering into pieces upon impact.

For a moment, Tangela staggered back, its round, vine-covered body swaying as if struggling to regain balance. The jagged stump where its arm had been severed oozed a thick, amber-colored sap, dripping steadily onto the ground in glistening droplets. The discarded vines lay scattered and frozen at its feet.

The mass of writhing vines that made up Tangela's body started to shift and pulse rhythmically. New vines slowly unfurled from the injured limb, first as slender tendrils, barely visible. These tendrils twisted and grew rapidly, thickening and intertwining with one another, weaving into the familiar dense mass of tangled vegetation that made up its arm. Within moments, the severed arm was completely replaced—an exact replica of the one it had sacrificed. The new vines shimmered slightly under the lightning, tender, yet fresh and strong, as though no damage had been done. The sap that had once dripped from the wound had dried, sealing itself off as part of Tangela's natural healing process.

Erika gazed into the trainer's eyes. Contrary to popular belief, regeneration on that scale was not effortless. It was a basic survival ability that all Tangela were born with. Regenerating multiple limbs in such close proximity to one another took stamina. Above all else, it also took a toll when it needed to be done forthwith.

Either this trainer knew that, and that's why he looked like a Sharpedo who smelled blood in the cover of a weakened adversary, or he was constantly bloodlusted, and she was just seeing it now.

Seeing her pokemon in its weakened state, Erika raised her pokeball. In the nick of time, Ash shouted, "Mean Look!"

She gasped as Tangela refused to vanish in her ball. Mean Look, she muttered with distaste. A move that prevented the pokemon from switching out. A terrific move if used correctly. Ash, for some reason, thought Gastly had a better chance at beating Tangela than Tangela beating Gastly. Perhaps he assumed that Tangela's momentary weakness turned the tide in an otherwise tedious struggle.

"You wish for Tangela to continue battling?" Erika's voice placid voice scantily reached over to Ash. "You may come to regret that, young trainer." Erika thrummed. "Very well. Tangela, Giga Drain."

This time, Tangela's vines shot forward with a fierce precision, wrapping themselves around Gastly's ethereal form. The air crackled with energy as a faint green glow pulsed along the length of Tangela's tendrils, signaling the beginning of a powerful Giga Drain. Gastly's vaporous body convulsed slightly as the energy was siphoned from him, his once mischievous grin faltering under the strain. The life force that once animated its ghostly form began to ebb away, drawn into Tangela's twisting vines like water being wrung from a soaked cloth.

The green energy, vibrant and pulsating, flowed in waves back into Tangela, its vines glowing with renewed vitality. Tangela's legs sank into the earth, momentarily rooting itself in place as it absorbed the stolen stamina, grounding itself in the rich soil beneath.

"Toxic, then Venoshock, Gastly."

That poisonous liquid made a return. Tangela shirked the fluid the best she could. Too preoccupied with escaping, she did notice Gastly rush closer. Erika did, notwithstanding, and she cautioned her with a shout. Tangela turned its round, stumpy body just in time to observe Gastly grow near. Another Venoshock exploded outward. Like the last round, Tangela dodged adroitly.

"Hypnosis," the challenger arranged frostily.

The same basic strategy in reverse… interesting, but it won't be enough. You'll find that my precious Tangela is far agiler than you give her credit for. Erika simpered patiently, watching her little pokemon turn on a dime, avoiding the special eye-contact Hypnosis required.

"Ancient Power, Tangela!"

"Ancient Power? But that's the move it needs to learn to evolve," she heard him mutter. Erika took no pleasure in his frustration. She was no sadist or an arrogant fool who received pleasure in pursuing the misery of others. She was also a gym leader whose job was to prevent trainers from acquiring her badge. Erika may not have access to her full team, but that did not mean she had to hold back her tactics. Not against a challenger this… vexingly practiced.

The silvery ball of peculiar energy crashed into Gastly's flank. He cried. The Gas Pokemon rolled helplessly onto the ground. Just when the referee was about to proclaim Erika the winner of that round, he floated back up.

"Good." There was audible relief in his voice when he saw Gastly levitate. The younger trainer took a moment to gather his thoughts.

Erika supplied him with such time. She would admit that she was slightly curious about this trainer. The one who managed to command the unyielding subservience of a ghost-type at such an early stage of his career. He was at a disadvantage. Erika wished to see if he could pull himself out of the gaping hole.

Only three seconds transpired.

A glare was transfixed onto her.

Such a fierce look amused Erika.

"Icy Wind."

Erika resisted the urge to comment on the futility of his tactics. A single hand gesture sent Tangela climbing in the air. The chilling breeze brushed beneath her harmlessly.

The young trainer smirked.

"Venoshock on the ground."

Every little bit of poisonous liquid he could muster up was belched out. It spilled across most of the field. Tangela's small, toe-less feet touched back down on the toxic substance. It would not have any effect, as once it contacts with another object, or in this case, a separate surface, most of the harmful toxins are released into the air. A lot of the grass-types Erika trained with also poison-types. She knew quite a bit about Venoshock because of her time training poison-types.

Now, why was this challenger still smiling when Tangela showed no signs of ailment whatsoever?

"Icy Wind."

That command sent her reeling.

Of course—

"Get off the ground, Tangela!" Erika cried in alarm. But it was too late. The ice had already spread across the sickly purple liquid. It crawled over Tangela's tiny, orange feet, rooting in place. "Grassy Terrain—"

"Venoshock!" he interrupted her orders.

He's relentless!

Tangela, there was no mistaking her next command—her last command for this battle. She lost because she got careless. Tangela blamed herself. The least she could do was set up the next battle so that her teammate would have better fortune. Tangela channeled the grassy energies that bubbled within her. An exhale. That energy blew above her right before Venoshock struck her.

Defeat was swift. Tangela never felt a thing.

The younger trainer gazed up as otherworldly green light coursed the field.

Erika did not display her dissatisfaction. Tangela did well. She even managed to follow through with her closing move with the briefest moment to react. Erika was proud of her pokemon's expeditious reaction and Tangela's ability to construct Grassy Terrain in such a short period of time. All those hours of her drilling the technique paid off. Erika knew it would. Years of raising pokemon from infancy allowed her that certain sureness.

"A cunning improvisation," she had no problem praising him. "That was very quick thinking."

The curl in his lips said otherwise. "Improvisation is a stupid man's copout for a lack of a plan."

Erika arched a delicate eyebrow. "You challenged me without a plan? Hm. I assumed you were more… diligent than that."

Ash went to reply, but another brilliant light erupted in the field. One far more familiar than the otherworldly shamrock glow. Erika watched as one of the wonders of the world transpired.

Pokemon evolution.

Gastly's body was enveloped by that blinding white incandescence. His normal circular, dark-purple body was now a radiant white so bright that it threatened to blind everyone if they stared too long into it. Ash couldn't remove his eyes, though. Neither could Erika. For all the times she had seen evolution come to pass, it still never ceased to amaze.

The first thing to transpire was Gastly's sudden growth in sheer size. Then, three large, spiked protrusions flanked it's new head shape. Finally, the ambiguous form of two separate limbs developed. When Ash could count three fingers on each hand, the white radiance vanished in a single, audible hand clap.

"Haunt—er!"

Ash chuckled blithely at Gastly—no, Haunter's cheerful, triumphant cry. The evolution that viciously eluded him finally came to be.

By the grin that threatened to split Haunter's new face in half, there was no one happier than him right now. The first thing he did was move his new, long-awaited hands. He didn't have to only bite to attack physically! He had hands now! Haunter could almost cry in reverence of them.

"Quite a show," Erika complimented. "Evolution is always a beautiful spectacle and an event to be remembered."

Ash softly rubbed the top of his starter's head. Gaseous body be damned. "I'll remember this moment for the rest of my life."

"You value him more than you're other pokemon."

"Strategically? No, I don't," he said, faltering. "But Gastly is my starter." He would have always had a special connection to Gastly that he could not foster with his other pokemon. Avoiding that truth would be cowardly and pointless. That did not mean he would play favorites for battles, though. He would always use the pokemon that made the most sense strategically.

Emotions had a place.

They did not belong in battle.

He missed the recoil of surprise that jerked Erika. Ash knew that he called Haunter, Gastly. That would have to change. Soon. The ghost-type would prank him into the next month if he directly called him Gastly again. All he needed was an excuse.

"We have a history together, and we've worked… we've put everything into getting him to evolve." Ash watched Haunter soar around the room excitedly, moving, twisting, and fiddling with his hands in every possible way imaginable. "He hated not having hands. It's why he wanted to evolve so much."

"He's a lively one," she commented, and Ash chuckled. Haunter, his best friend and his starter, evolved at last. He couldn't help it. "Do you intend to battle with him?"

"No," he answered immediately.

"A wise choice. Your Haunter needs time to adjust to his new body. He is in no condition to battle either."

Her challenger obviously agreed with her as he recalled the joyous ghost-type. Erika saw him give him a few whispered words. Her ears couldn't pick up what he was saying, no matter how hard she strained them. It was a quick moment of tenderness, and it was over in the next. His old cool, expressionless façade recurred.

"Do your best, my friend." When her final pokemon appeared on the field, she saw the challenger take a half-step back. His facial expression never changed. The same couldn't be said about his body language.

"An Exeggutor?" Ash whispered, fists clenched. That was not what he expected at all. He thought she would send out a Vileplume, a mono grass-type like Bellossom, or even a poison-type like Weezing, for example. Erika was a poison-type master, just as Koga was. It just so happened that a lot of grass-types shared a poison-typing as well. It helped her grow a familiarity with training and battling with poison-types.

But a beastly Exeggutor was far from his expectations. None of her battles against trainers under three badges included an Exeggutor.

"He just evolved a week ago. I wanted to start using him and give him experience in battling with his new body. I hope you do not mind."

Ash wasn't necessarily afraid of Exeggutor itself but the psychic dual-typing it possessed. Psychic was always a type Ash regarded with circumspection. More often than not, they were always formidable pokemon. He grew up around Professor Oak's own Alakazam. He knew just how powerful psychic-types could be. Exeggutor was actually a pokemon Ash was considering capturing. He needed a counter to water-types to ease Aron's weakness. Being vulnerable to water-types, without having a counter, was a death sentence. Water-types were notoriously formidable and possessed few weaknesses and were one of the types that could hit steel-types for neutral damage. They were strong defensively and great offensively.

Pokemon that could fulfill that specific criteria and boast a psychic-typing definitely earned his intrigue.

Though, when the fleeting sensation of panic passed, he smirked. This was unexpected, her choice in pokemon, and Ash craved the unexpected.

"Not what I expected, but you're not getting me to quit. Not now, not ever."

"That is relieving. I'd feared that I'd scared you off." Erika giggled placidly to herself.

"Not a chance." Ash flung the only used ultra-ball on his belt. "Battlefront, Ursaring!"

The bipedal, ursine pokemon was an immense surprise. This boy was certainly a rarity.

First, he starts his journey off with a ghost-type, then he captures a Clefable… and now a Ursaring. For a fledgling trainer, he sure does have a penchant for collecting rare or dangerous pokemon.

Upon finding himself on a battlefield he eagerly anticipated seeing, Ursaring roared. He drummed his chest intimidatingly, his thick, fur-ridden muscles rippled. Two of Exeggutor's faces grinned droopingly. The third stared off aimlessly.

Erika gestured to the referee. She wanted him to make the declaration.

"Ursaring versus Exeggutor! Battle… begin!" he did not shout, yet that proclamation held more weight in Ash's eyes than the loud, overbearing referee from Cerulean City.

"It's only right that I let you make the first move this time around."

He was confident. Or was it petulant arrogance?

Erika smiled mildly. "Thank you," he said graciously. "Psyshock, please, Exeggutor."

"Exegg…" the middle face droned. Ash stared as all three opened their mouths. A pink flicker grew until a tri-beam blew outward.

"Duck!" Ash shouted, unprepared for how swiftly that Psyshock came. He thought it would charge up for at least a second, but it was almost instant.

Ursaring was also surprised, but he heeded his trainer's sudden command. His knees brushed the grass, and it passed right over his head.

"Please, do it again, Exeggutor."

A repeat performance, then. "Double Team."

A flurry of copies flooded the arena. The dozen or so Ursaring bolted onward. Exeggutor's Psyshock destroyed nearly half of them in one go. When the rest of the copies remained active, he withheld a sigh of relief.

"Hammer Arm." Ursaring roared, swiping his glowing fist.

"Energy Ball."

Ash's eyes swelled. At this range?!

To his utter disbelief, the Energy Ball never even formed in the usual, expected way. It didn't gather slowly in a shimmering orb of nature's energy, swirling and crackling with power. Instead, it materialized instantly—a fully charged sphere of vibrant, green energy—seemingly summoned from nowhere. The force behind it was undeniable as it shot forward like a bullet, slamming into Ursaring's broad chest with a resounding impact.

Ursaring grunted in pain, the suddenness of the blow taking him off guard. The orb exploded against him, releasing its potent energy in a burst that rippled against him. The blast pushed Ursaring back, his heavy body lurching as the sheer force knocked the wind from his lungs. The hairs on his chest singed instantly from the heat, the force of the attack scorching his fur down to the skin.

How could it charge Energy Ball up so fast?

Ash scanned his memories for an answer.

"Get off the ground, Tangela!" Erika cried in alarm. But it was too late. The ice already spread across the sickly purple liquid. It crawled over Tangela's tiny, orange feet, rooting in place. "Grassy Terrain—"

Ash viewed his surroundings once more. The eerie alteration of environment and the change of atmosphere—that was Grassy Terrain. He pieced that together when the move first went into effect. Ash had been questioning himself of the move's purpose. That is, until now.

Energy Balls do not charge up that quickly. It shouldn't have done that much damage to Ursaring, either. Grassy Terrain must amplify the power of grass-type moves.

"I see you have figured it out," Erika commented easily. "Grassy Terrain elevates the power and control over grass-type techniques. You have your conveniences, and I have mine."

If Grassy Terrain is permanent, then I have to come up with a way to negate its effects. I doubt it is permanent, though. It must have a time limit; especially since the pokemon that initially summoned it is no longer here to sustain the effects. It's the same thing with weather conditions, but I can't afford to draw this battle out any longer than necessary. Ursaring isn't trained for a prolonged battle. He was supposed to dominate with swift and powerful attacks.

Ash frowned.

If I tell him that we're going against the strategy that both of us decided on, I will lose what little faith I have in Ursaring's eyes. I can't counter from afar, either. That ruins the idea of stalling. If I counter a safe distance away, then all I am doing is biding my time until that Exeggutor lands another shot. It just needs to get lucky once. One mistake and the battle is over. I can't risk it. I need to overpower it like before. That's my only shot here.

"Ursaring," Ash said eventually, "Slash."

"Use Seed Bomb, Exeggutor."

Roaring with primal fury, Ursaring charged forward, his claws clenched tightly at his sides, muscles rippling under his thick fur. His eyes burned fixed solely on his target. The grassy battlefield around them seemed to blur as Ursaring sprinted across it, his massive frame thundering forward despite the condition weighing him down. Exeggutor, sensing the oncoming threat, responded quickly. From each of its heads, a rapid barrage of sizable seeds erupted, spinning through the air with deadly accuracy. The seeds glowed faintly, sizzling with energy as they arced over at Ursaring.

Each seed exploded on impact, spraying dirt and grass in all directions the moment they struck the ground. One of them struck Ursaring directly in the chest with a dull thud, detonating on contact. The blast sent a ripple of pain through his body, but Ursaring barely flinched. He pressed onwards, sheer willpower driving him through the agony.

His eyes locked onto Exeggutor's massive form, and just as he reached it, Ursaring swung his powerful arm in a wide arc. His claws gleamed in the sunlight before making contact with Exeggutor's thick bark-like skin. The Slash tore into Exeggutor's side with a vicious swipe, sending the pokemon reeling with a pained, guttural cry. Its branches shuddered from the impact, and it tried to stumble.

"Slash again."

Ursaring, despite the pain in his chest and the sluggishness in his limbs, responded instantly, raising his arm to deliver another brutal blow. But Erika was just as fast.

"Energy Ball!"

Exeggutor's middle head tilted forward, summoning a glowing sphere of green energy that coalesced between its leaves. It charged quickly—not as suddenly as it once had been able to do, but far quicker than it would have been able to without the assistance of the terrain. The orb shimmered for only a split second before spearing into Ursaring at point-blank range. The Energy Ball punched into Ursaring's lower body, striking his legs with the force of a cannon.

The sheer power behind the attack ripped Ursaring's legs out from under him, sending the massive Pokémon crashing to the ground. He hit the dirt hard, his body grinding across the grass as he skidded to a halt, the impact leaving a trail of upturned earth in his wake. Dust and grass filled the air as Ursaring lay momentarily still, his breath labored, chest heaving from the pain. The once-proud roar had faded to a low growl, and Ash's expression darkened, his teeth grinding in frustration.

"Get up," Ash muttered under his breath.

Ursaring's fur was singed where the Energy Ball had made contact, and his limbs trembled as he struggled to push himself up. Ursaring grunted as he tried to rise, his claws digging into the earth for leverage, but his legs betrayed him, wobbling unsteadily. Yet, he remained upright.

"End this, Exeggutor," she requested softly, her voice soft but filled with finality. "Solar Beam."

The order was gentle, but the power behind it was anything but. A faint, preternatural blue glow began to emanate from Exeggutor's central face, gathering rapidly in intensity as it prepared to unleash the devastating Solar Beam. The air around it seemed to quiver with energy, the ground palpatating underfoot as the raw power coalesced into a dangerous charge.

Ash's eyes widened.

The sheer destructive force of Solar Beam was not something Ursaring could withstand in his current state. Perhaps not even when he was fresh. Solar Beam wasn't regarded as one of the greatest and most reliable finishing attacks in the world for a middling, erroneous reason. It earned its reputation through dozens, maybe even hundreds of wonderful, decorated trainers using it in battle to an amazing degree. Ash wasn't about to be added to that statistic—he wasn't going to become a witness to it all.

Ursaring, already fueled by a mix of searing pain and rage, let out a guttural growl that reverberated across the arena. His muscles bulged as he forced himself upright, shaking off the exhaustion that gripped his limbs. The pain he felt—every singed hair, every bruise—only ignited his fury further. With that rage, he propelled himself forward, somehow moving even faster than before. Exeggutor's eyes widened—its right head was still staring off aimlessly—but it was already too late. Just as the blinding light of Solar Beam reached its peak, Ursaring's flat hand slammed into Exeggutor's side with the force of a sledgehammer.

Exeggutor let out a high-pitched whine, its body shuddering violently as the energy it had painstakingly gathered for Solar Beam dissipated in an instant, the attack canceled before it could even be launched. The ground shook beneath the weight of the clash, and the ethereal glow of Solar Beam flickered out like a dying flame. Exeggutor wobbled on its feet, reeling.

"Energy Ball!" Erika commanded, her voice now edged. If she allowed that sudden attack to go unpunished, that beast would just gain momentum and it would surely spell the end of this battle for her.

But Ash was already ahead of her. His keen eyes caught the subtle shift in Exeggutor's stance, the faint shimmer of green energy swirling around its heads. Ursaring didn't need further instructions; he could feel it too. With a snarl, Ursaring spun his massive body to the side. The Energy Ball streaked past him, its radiant green light searing the air. Although Ursaring narrowly evaded a direct hit, the faint edges of his fur were teased by the heat.

"Hammer Arm!"

Ursaring roared one last time, the primal sound echoing through the battlefield as he gathered every last ounce of strength left in his bruised and battered body. His arm, glowing with the white-hot power ignited in a blaze. With a final, ferocious howl, he brought his arm down in a powerful arc, driving it straight into Exeggutor's central face. The force of the blow reverberated through Exeggutor's entire body like a shockwave, sending it flying backward in an improbable arc.

Erika watched, her breath catching in her throat. She knew, in that moment, that the battle was lost. There was nothing more she could do. The resounding crash echoed as Exeggutor smashed into the rear wall of the arena with a heavy thud, the stone splintering under the impact. Dust rose from the ground in a thick cloud, obscuring the fallen Pokémon for a moment.

When the dust settled, Exeggutor lay motionless, its large form sprawled across the battlefield, completely still.

The referee glanced over at Erika, whose expression was one of resigned acceptance as she sighed.

With a graceful motion, Erika lifted her pokeball. "Return," she whispered, the red beam from the ball enveloping Exeggutor's form, drawing it back in with a soft hum. The pokemon vanished, leaving only the scorched battlefield and the remnants of their fierce clash.

The referee took a stance at the center of the battlefield.

"Exeggutor is unable to battle. Since the challenger still has one pokemon remaining, and Gym Leader Erika has none, the challenger is the winner!"

Ash coursed over to Ursaring. The Hibernator pokemon rasped a ragged breath. He stiffened when a small hand grasped his shoulder. Ursaring whirled around, only to relax when he saw his trainer. The boy was smiling—the boy never smiled.

The pride in his eyes was as clear as anything Ursaring had ever seen. A faint smile full of teeth showed against his will.

"You're one tough son of a bitch, you know that?" Okay, now he smiled without restraint. He lightly punched his chest, smirking up a storm. Ursaring tried to replicate his enthusiasm. "I don't know how you survived the second attack, much less the third or the fourth. You've got the heart of a winner, Ursaring. Why don't you take a bit of a rest?"

An indistinct growl was his answer. Ash returned him to his ultra ball and made his way over to Erika.

"I do not normally find battle exhilarative, but this one was… fun," she said.

Yes. Fun. What an odd experience to find in battle, she mused.

"Battle is all I live for, really."

Erika smiled placidly, her hands finding the rings of her delicate silk sleeves. "I can tell. Your fighting style could use some work. A little more patience could carry you a long way, but I don't think that will mesh well with your philosophy."

"I have patience. If I didn't, I would have had Clefable use Ice Punch immediately. I just think overpowering offense is the best defense. This battle, more than anything, was a test of that. You're my opposite. I suppose that's why this whole thing frustrated the hell out of me."

Erika giggled some. "I agree. Every time a hyper-aggressive trainer comes around, it always makes for an interesting bout or an extremely tiring one." She presented him with the Rainbow Badge. "You have more than earned this," she said capriciously. "If you ever find yourself in Celadon again, please, schedule a battle. I cannot believe this, but I think I would love to test you again when you are stronger."

"You too," Ash said to her.

Just as he turned to leave, Erika's serene voice made him pause.

"I apologize." He moved back around, staring at her. "Would you mind if I asked you a simple question?"

A nod was her answer.

"Why did you bother battling the Sisters?"

"The Sensation Sisters?"

For the first time, genuine distaste soiled Erika's aristocratic features. "Please, do not dignify them with such a title. They are anything but Sensational."

Ash snorted. "I take it your opinion of them is just as low as mine."

"Lower," she corrected. "They are a mockery of their titles and have made our jobs… tiresome." His gaze found hers. It was full of questions. She chose to appease him. "Too many trainers have waltzed into my Gym—arrogant from their status as Badge Holders, having received one from them—that they believe themselves qualified to battle my stronger teams. I believed you would be the same, but it seems like you, that Oak boy, and that muscle-bound loudmouth from Unova are more than that."

Instinctively, Ash's hands curled into trembling fists upon the mention of Gary. Though, curiosity flooded him all the same when he heard, "Unova." Not many trainers from Unova wandered into Kanto. Call it "cultural and historical differences."

Such differences would not be alleviated or forgotten so soon after the last war.

Many Kan-Joh trainers have veered away from Unova, and many Unovian trainers have avoided stepping foot in Kan-Joh's borders for the very same reason. Wounds from the last war. Ash, personally, could remember the aftermath of the war. The fighting came years before his birth, but it was one of his favorite pastime activities. When he was making his way through his early teen years, he fervidly tore through the material about the war.

Not just from Kan-Joh or even Hoenn publishers, but from Unovian and Kalosian publishers as well. Professor Oak burdened him with a nugget of wisdom when he was younger. He once said, "It's imperative to take wisdom from all sources of the world. Solely learning from one facet, one institution or one person with a set of beliefs will lead that person to become rigid in their ideals."

He whole-heartedly believed it was important to submerge himself with all sorts of information from all brands of people. With war, it was obvious to him that if he wished to learn all about it, he would have to study it from both perspectives—both sides. Learning about the war was a fascinating period of his life, and it personally kickstarted a hobby of his. He found that he adored history and loved learning about war itself. To him, it was a fascinating subject.

Ash bid her a tiny smile. "I appreciate the praise. If you're so curious, pay close attention to my career. I'm sure you'll see plenty of interesting battles on my Trainer Page."

Erika mirrored his expression. "I am sure," she said. Ash was unsure if that was a statement meant solely to appease him or a truthful affirmation.

"By the way," said Ash, "But how did you get your Tangela to use Ancient Power and not evolve?"

"Control," she replied easily enough. "Ancient Power is not a complex move, Mr. Ketchum, but staving off evolution—always being in control of such an instinctual and physical burden... that is the purest expression of control."

Huh. That was unexpected. "But it looked strong enough to warrant the evolution."

"For a rookie's team, yes, but you'll find that while evolution does bring a great deal of power once it does occur, progression slows after each evolution. It is smarter—"

Ash interrupted, "To get as much strength as possible in each evolutionary period. I know."

"You've studied biology."

"Extensively."

Erika nodded gradually. "Yes, you have. Professor Oak demands only the best, doesn't he?"

Ash snorted. "The man has lax standards about himself, but he's a slave master when it comes to the standards around him. A lot of people might call it hypocrisy, but I think he just holds other people to a higher standard than himself and wants them to realize it."

"He sounds complicated."

Once again, he snorted. "You don't know the half of it."

Erika hummed. "If you are eager to display your talents, not just to me, but to the larger world, then perhaps it would be a pertinent idea for you to compete in the tri-annual Celadon Tournament."

Ash frowned. He'd heard of it. He used to go to school here. "I thought the next tournament was in a month."

"Our newly elected and… esteemed Mayor has, for sagacity that is unknown to me, chosen to move up the third tournament in the circulation two weeks early."

Excitement bubbled within him. "I'm not sure how well I'll place. I'm only a three-badge trainer. Surely, there will be older, more experienced trainers competing. It wouldn't be a fair showing of my abilities if I did compete."

"If this were not a tournament dedicated to four-badge trainers and lower, I would agree," said the grass-mistress.

Huh. So, there was a tournament he could compete in and bear a responsible chance of winning, eh? She was right. It would be a foolish decision not to compete.

"All right. You've got my interest," he declared smirkingly, arms spread wide. "I wouldn't want to deprive the people of seeing me battle on the big stage."

Erika bowed her head. "You will undoubtedly have my attention. I cannot speak for the larger populace, however." There was a quirk at her lips as well.

Ash grinned. "So, you do have a sense of humor. I'll be." He turned back around, waving. "Thanks for letting me know about the tournament."

"You will not find a victory there to be as… smooth or assured as the battle you had with me." Ash halted. "There will be trainers I have personally battled competing—trainers that have shown similar promise. Might I even say, greater promise."

Instantly, Ash's fists clenched. His jaw worked back and forth. A storm brewed behind his amber eyes, and, ever so slightly, they took on an almost gold sheen.

Gary…

That's who she was talking about. There was no uncertainty in his mind about that.

The second he thought about Gary, his jaw clamped tighter.

Just then, a smirk found his features. He turned his head ever so slightly so he could see Erika out of the corner of his eye. She could see the sharp uplift in his gaze.

"For the record," he said, "I can't wait to crush them. I'll be the best trainer at the tournament."

Ash walked away.

I'll be the best, or I'll be nothing.

---

He exited the Pokemon Center many hours later. His pokemon were all healthy. Clefable had taken quite the beating, yet, it was hardly anything that Nurse Joy couldn't handle. Ash had personally seen the miracles those women could enact. Modern medicine was a hell of a thing. As were the people trained to perform those duties. Ash figured that if he had never become a trainer, he would have been a good doctor or a full-time professor.

Ash meandered all throughout Celadon, aimless. Misty decided to watch one of the contest tournaments that were being held not far from here. She offered to buy him a ticket, but he declined. Contests were not his thing. While he did not particularly like them all that much, he didn't dislike their art. He just didn't appreciate their vain need for praise. It reminded him too much of the Sensational Sisters. Even now, weeks after he conquered their gym, they still left a foul taste in his mouth.

They were everything he detested in a trainer. Incompetent, lax, predictable and vain. One or two of those things could be excused in his eyes if they were strong. Lance was vain and predictable, but he was Lance. He was thee Dragon Master and, in his opinion, the mightiest champion in the world.

He typically overpowered all of his challengers. Rarely did he introduce complex or intricate strategies. Not that he needed to. His pokemons' monumental power and impeccable records betrayed his skill at training them.

And vain he was. Not nearly as much as Champion Steven, but Lance was plenty vain. He strutted around wearing that garb of his, flaring his cape. There was never a moment where there was not a camera to capture his brilliance. He was always spotted somewhere doing something of note. He adored the attention, cherished his fanbase, and stoked the attention his station naturally incurred. For reasons, Ash understood but could not empathize with.

Fame, wealth, and an endless sea of women. Those weren't things he necessarily wanted. Sure, he wouldn't say no to the latter two, but if either interfered with his ambitions, he would toss them away without a moment's hesitation. There was nothing he desired more than power. He was weak now. Insignificantly so compared to those giants.

Not for long, though, he rationalized.

Not for long…

Celadon was a complicated experience for him. On the one hand, some of his best memories were created here, yet Celadon was also where his worst nightmares were reaped. The attack of CPI—it was all still fresh in his mind. Agonizingly fresh. It happened years ago. Nevertheless, Ash couldn't forget it. Some days, it felt like it happened a hundred years ago, and others, well, it was like he was collapsed under the burning beams and sucking in all that cinder, ash, and smoke all over again.

From one perspective, it was nice to see Celadon again. Especially a few of his old professors. He always respected their diligence in teaching. They took their jobs seriously. Never did they slack or falter when teaching. He respected them immensely for taking pride in their professions. There was genuine love in what they did. Ash understood what that was like. He loved training pokemon, he loved being around them… he loved battling.

On the other hand, though, it served as a potent reminder of what happened. Which made him curse being here as much as he accepted the wonderful feeling of nostalgia.

His purposeless wandering led him to the Game Corner.

The Game Corner was unlike most of the other structures in the City of Commerce. It wasn't quite as tawdry as he'd thought it would be. The old Game Corner was accustomed to was gone. The newer Game Corner, compared to the old one, was far more unostentatious. If Ash was actually looking for the Game Corner, he might have missed it. The unassuming appearance of the otherwise rowdy premise made him believe it was just another building.

Ash had never been inside the Celadon Game Corner, even when he went to school here. It was explicitly forbidden to go to places like these. He was sure that had been broken hundreds of times. Just not by him. Not that he respected the rules. Ash simply didn't have time to partake in such pointless activities. He spent all of it studying, preparing for exams, doing experiments, or research tests sent by Professor Oak himself.

The interior of the Game Corner was certainly different than the exterior. Where it lacked garishness and gaudiness on the latter, the décor inside more than made up for it. It was certainly flashy enough, with massive neon signs on any wall he could see and posters presenting potential prizes. His eyes widened in astonishment. Sandshrew, Abra, Nidoran and Nidorina, Pinsir, Horsea, Wigglytuff, Vulpix, and even Pokemon of absurd rarity and value like Porygon, Clefairy, and pseudo-legendries like Dratini and Larvitar. The list went on and on.

Scyther and Lickitung were ridiculously tough to locate, although Sandshrew wasn't that difficult to find, and Abra was only aggravating to capture. Finding them were simple enough once you knew what habitats they favored, hunting patterns, and so on and so forth. It was even easier when you had a dark-type sensitive enough to detect latent psychic energy.

Even yet, they still could not compare to the unbelievable rarity of Dratini or Clefairy. Due to the fact that these were the most expensive rewards available, Ash could only presume that the Game Corner had access to a high-class breeder in order to obtain the extraordinary Pokemon. Another unique creature created purely from computer data was Porygon. Ash once more believed that the Game Corner had some influential contacts.

Ash was directly involved in some of the more complicated research Professor Oak did on the species. They were fascinatingly unique, and they were one of the pokemon Ash wanted to capture one day. Porygon had only recently been recognized as pokemon, and the majority were held by the League or employed personnel.

He would kill to get one of them. Ash would have to win a lot of coins, but in return, he would receive a crucial new teammate. That is, if he was interested in gambling for a pokemon.

Which he wasn't.

He wanted nothing to do with purchasing or gambling for pokemon. However, winning them from a wager, like a battle, was different. Nonetheless, he drew the line there. He would not sit at some game, pull a switch, pray he got lucky, and get a pokemon that way. It went against everything he believed in. He did not think less of the people who did subscribe to such practices (if they were competent trainers who deserved to have the pokemon like that at their disposal). It wasn't for him, though.

The Game Corner wasn't only selling pokemon. There were other valuable prizes, such as an abundance of Super Potions, Hyper Potions, Antidotes, Ultra Balls—even items that Pokemon needed to evolve in their final states. Electirizers, Dragon Scales, King's Rocks, Magmarizers, Metal Coats, Prism Scales, Protectors, and even the incredibly sought-after Reaper Cloth.

They were extremely rare objects that allowed Dusclops to evolve into a Dusknoir and Haunter into a Gengar. It was a cloth imbued with a pure enough content of spectral essence that could trigger an evolution. Seeing as how most of these items triggered evolution for powerful Pokemon, he decided to try his hand at winning a few of them.

If he was lucky, he would be able to get his hands on a Metal Coat for a Scizor, or a Steelix, a Dragon Scale for a Kingdra, or a Reaper Cloth. Either of those three would be perfect.

After spending a small amount of money, he took a tiny bucket of coins over to a slot machine. The faces spun until they stopped at a "7", a Shelder, and a Staryu. A frown settled on his lips.

He detested slot machines already.

Hours later, Ash found himself in a situation much like the one he started in. Only a few thousand coins to show for his thousands of pokedollars spent. It was, frankly, beyond aggravating to see the very same result pop up over and over again on the slot machines. Each time he spun, he hoped for a different result. Sure, he would get lucky on a few spins.

Yes, he was getting closer to that peak to where could afford to purchase those evolutionary items. Ash didn't wanna walk out with just one. No, he spent hours of frustrating gambling that vigorously tested his patience.

Another couple of hours later, he almost nearly put his fist through the machines. But he got the coins he wanted. When he stepped to the front counter, the man looked at him flatly. He was as miserable as he was. The man glanced at the sum of coins in his possession, a roll to his eyes.

"What can I do for you? What Pokemon will it be this time?" he asked in the drollest voice possible.

"A Reaper Cloth and a Metal Coat."

"Are you sure, kid? You make that decision, and you ain't getting these coins back." The vendor was not used to people choosing items over pokemon. Especially with the winnings this kid had. He could only imagine how much money this kid spent. Or maybe he just got really lucky.

"Just give me the damn items." Ash was in the furthest mood possible to deal with this crap. He cursed his inability to drop something when he started it. It's what led him to almost ten-thousand pokedollars down the drain and nearly twelve hours of his day wasted. He hadn't even slept after the battle. Sleep was sparse as is.

"Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on." Hearing the man's response, Ash felt a little bad about his attitude.

When he came back, his won objects in a bag, Ash paused. "Sorry about that."

The vendor waved him off, disappearing into another room. The door hung open for a moment, and Ash's gaze lingered. He had to scan his palm to get access. What could be so valuable in that room that warranted a palm scanner? Then he noted a strange logo on the back of someone's T-shirt. Ash almost missed it, but the blood red "R" was clear his day.

Instantly his blood ran cold.

Team Rocket…

They were here in Celadon City. Again. His jaw was wired shut. The muscles in his face throbbed as he tried to repress the fury lit inside him. That fury was only the beginning.

It exploded into a wildfire of rage. All that aggravation being back in Celadon returned in full force. The memories of what happened coiled a cold, dead grasp around his heart. An ice-cold pit opened up inside him, and he felt his control slip.

Ash vaulted over the counter, landing in a crouch. He slithered into the room just before it closed. There were a few men and women wearing Team Rocket uniforms, sitting at workstations. They worked at computers and miscellaneous devices, or they inscribed matters of various importance. Ash's mouth went dry as the door closed.

There was no way out except through on the other end. He knew instantly that he was going to stop them. Ash didn't know why they were in Celadon. He didn't care why. All he cared about was the fact that they were here in the first place. He was not going to let them terrorize Celadon again. Ash would die before he allowed them to operate here with impunity.

The slow, crouching steps allowed him to sneak passed the working men undetected. His path opened into a lengthy hallway from which numerous others branched out. As Ash moved carefully down the hall, he cast a quick peek around. He found that his surroundings were a dramatic contrast to the wonderfully bright, ostentatious Game Corner. The walls were bleary and gray in color.

They appeared as if they hadn't been touched in years…

Since the Game Corner was refurbished.

… which was the whole reason the Game Corner was renovated.

A sinking feeling wormed its way down his throat and settled into his stomach.

Ash chose the first available turn. It went on to another long-winded hallway. He carried on along it, unsure of where everyone was. Perhaps they had recently erected it, or perhaps this was merely a portion of the Game Corner that had been abandoned. It made sense why Team Rocket chose this nook in the Game Corner. It was completely detached from the rest of the premises. It allowed them to work with exemption from the rest of the staff.

Or maybe Team Rocket owned them as well; maybe they were merely operating in the shadowy corners of the building to avoid suspicion from the patrons. That thought left him sour. As he passed another turn, he ran into an elevator.

This floor… it's just a front. The real party is below.

Ash pressed the down button on the elevator. When the doors opened, he cast a glance to his side, ensuring that no one saw him. Hastily, he went inside, his phone already in his grasp. He clapped the emergency stop right when the doors closed. Ash couldn't afford to go down quite yet. He dialed a number.

It rang.

Swallowing thickly, his expression melted when he heard a voice speak to him.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Please, please come quick. There's a bomb!"

"Sir! Please calm down. Where? Where is the bomb?"

"The Game Corner! The bottom floor! Quick! Hurry! They said they're going to kill everyone!"

Ash snapped the device shut, shy from hearing the emergency call-taker. With that tone, he slapped the button. The elevator trembled, beginning its downward descent. Fist clenched, a pokeball in the other, he waited until he heard that distinct—

Ding!

The doors opened and he saw a hoard of Team Rocket grunts.

"Hey! What the hell is a kid doin' here?"

A Rocket turned to his buddy. "Quick! Get him!" They went to grab their pokeballs. Ash was quicker.

"Haunter, Hypnosis on the grunts."

In a flash of white, the Rocket grunts fell to the ground. Upon hearing the shouts, more grunts bolted into the room. Ash ordered Haunter to do the same to them. He did for the first couple, but once they managed to free their Pokemon, Haunter ceased his efforts. Ash stiffened as their pokemon were released. An Ekans, Grimer, and a Voltorb.

"You have two choices, kiddo. Recall your pokemon and give up or die with 'em. Your call."

Ash's decision was made long before that question was presented to him. "Haunter, Icy Wind on all three of them."

A sharp gust of air pulsated throughout the room as random, smaller objects froze over in a sheet of ice. Due to the widespread attack, each of the three Pokemon escaped the cold blanket attack.

"Nice try, brat. But you can't hit all of our pokemon."

"I wasn't trying to." Ash showed them two more pokeballs. They shouted in alarm, but it was too late. "Clefable, Dazzling Gleam on Voltorb. Carvanha, Haunter, choose your opponents. Just keep them both from Clefable." With Clefable's weakness to poison-types, it was only logical to keep the battle separated from the two of them.

All of them grunted in affirmation. Haunter chose the Grimer, while Carvanha immediately attacked the Ekans in a swift Aqua Jet. It flung the poison-type back while Haunter branded Grimer with Confuse Ray.

"Tear through that pathetic attack with Spark!"

Voltorb covered itself in an electric shroud. It charged into the beam, pushing through it effortlessly. As Ash had expected.

"Hit it with Ice Punch when it gets close."

"No! Voltorb!"

Voltorb had no time to react. The frozen fist came out of nowhere, a blur slamming into its round body with a bone-rattling crack. The impact sent the electric pokemon flying off the floor, its spherical form spinning wildly through the air. It careened upward, blasting into the ceiling with a loud thud that echoed through the arena. Frost clung to its surface, tiny shards of ice scattering in the air as it bounced off the ceiling.

For a moment, Voltorb seemed suspended, hanging in midair, before gravity yanked it back down. It spiraled uncontrollably, the force of the attack still reverberating through its frame, and crashed violently into the ground, skidding across the tiled floor. The pokemon's usually vibrant, glowing body now lay limp, its electric energy flickering weakly as it rolled to a stop at the feet of its trainer.

"Oh... fuck me," he muttered.

"Carvanha, Water Gun on that Voltorb. Reflect on Carvanha, Clefable."

The concentrated jet of pressurized water slammed into the weakened electric-type. The attack hit with such precision that it left no room for recovery—its sharp, cutting force overwhelmed the already debilitated opponent. The electric-type crumpled to the ground, twitching as the last remnants of its energy dissipated, unable to continue the fight.

Meanwhile, the faint shimmer of a Reflect barrier materialized between Carvanha and Ekans, the translucent shield warping the light ever so slightly as it intercepted the incoming Poison Sting. The needle-like projectiles fired from Ekans' fangs pinged harmlessly off the shield, their venomous tips rendered useless against the ethereal defense.

Ash's lips curled into a slight smirk as Carvanha, with its characteristic ruthlessness, lunged, muscles coiled like a spring. He responded to the Ekans' feeble attack with calculated ferocity, delivering a Payback that struck with devastating force. The retaliatory strike landed with a dull thud, the dark energy surging through the impact as Ekans was sent flying backward, its lithe body contorting in midair before it hit the ground, sprawled out and motionless.

"Y-you little brat!" one of the grunts shouted.

"You're dead! You hear me! You're dead!"

"Wait 'till our boss hears about this!" the first one yelled.

He grew tired of their enraged prattling. "Hypnosis. Shut them up."

Haunter grinned sickeningly. A wave—yes, he could wave now, put the delicate humans under a spell. They collapsed into a pathetic heap. Haunter cackled.

"What is all this commotion?!" A voice bellowed. Ash turned to his right. A tall, wry blue-haired man stood, furious. He wore a strange white uniform with a single crimson "R" above his heart. "What is the meaning of this?"

When the youth remained quiet, he observed his surroundings. With his men all unconscious and several Team Rocket-issued pokemon in similar states, he arrived at the only logical conclusion.

"Well, I'll be… I believe it's obvious as to what this is. This is a raid. Well, unless you're Lance or his pet Elite Four, then the League was foolish to send you here alone."

"I'm not from the League. I'm just someone who got tired of watching thugs like you do whatever you want."

"Ho-ho!" he laughed imperiously. "A vigilante. Word have thee. My, my. Brave words coming from a dead child."

"Lofty words coming from a greasy-haired twat like yourself."

Instead of being angered by the insult, the Team Rocket boss chortled pompously. "You have nerve, boy. Let's see how they hold up when your pokemon are dead at your feet—with you joining them!"

He threw out a set of three pokeballs. Just as many pokemon appeared. An ill-favored, baleful Houndoom, a speculative Golbat, and a short-tempered Magneton.

The Houndoom was his strongest pokemon. Ash could tell by its muscle density, and he grabbed that pokeball first. Carvanha, even with the type advantage, could not hope to match Houndoom. Clefable, on the other hand, could. He resisted dark-type moves and had the defense to resist the powerful fire attacks it was capable of dishing out.

Haunter would take on the Golbat. Ghost-types resisted poison-types moves. Haunter even more so due to his dual-poison typing as well. However, he still had no direct answer for Magneton. Carvanha couldn't match it blow for blow, either. He knew that without even factoring in the drastic type disadvantage. Although he knew who could. Ash called out his last pokemon, and the Rocket boss frowned.

"What's wrong?" Ash asked snippily. "Were you expecting a fair fight? I'm sorry, but I don't show fairness to terrorists."

"Ursa—ring!" The Hibernator roared as he was freed from his pokeball. Upon seeing the evolved pokemon before him, he growled menacingly, sputum leaking from his teeth-riddled maw.

"Hmm," he hummed upon seeing the aggressive pokemon. "You may not be such a pushover, after all. Very well, I'll entertain this battle. Know this, though, you will perish at the hands of Archer, Executive of Team Rocket!"

"So, the wet-haired cunt has a name. No wonder why you're a terrorist. Your parents could have at least given you a cooler name. Archer, eh? P.E. must have been hell with all the puns."

Ash directly ignored Archer's comeback. So vigorously that his ears never even registered it. He was too busy theorizing.

Houndoom reared back, its crimson maw aglow as a torrent of fire erupted from its throat. The flames surged forward, twisting and roaring with an intensity that left no doubt—Flamethrower. Ash's eyes flicked to Clefable, his mind racing. The fairy-type was immediately engulfed by the inferno, its pink body lost within the swirling blaze. Ash knew better than to assume that would defeat him.

Golbat, meanwhile, hovered in the air, its grotesque wings slicing through the air with unnerving speed. With just a few quick beats, it unleashed razor-thin crescents of blue wind—Air Cutter—aimed directly at Haunter. The wind howled through the arena, sharp enough to cleave through flesh, but Haunter only cackled in response. His ethereal body shimmered with ghostly energy as his wide grin split even wider. Before the cutting winds could reach him, Haunter's eyes glowed an eerie, pulsating light. Confuse Ray. The beams danced wildly, spinning toward Golbat, whose wings faltered as it tried to adjust mid-flight. The sharp crescents of wind scattered uselessly, Golbat's wings beating erratically, confusion taking root in its mind.

Then came Magneton—its floating metallic body audibly humming as it fired its Tri-Attack. Sparks of lightning crackled around one eye, while fire swirled from another, and icy frost misted from the third. All three elements swirled together before exploding out in a brilliant, focused beam of elemental fury. The attack screamed at Ursaring, who stood rooted in the middle of the battlefield, his fur bristling with anticipation.

"Ursaring, use your Hammer Arm on the blue beam!" Ash's voice rang out, but it was clear Ursaring had other plans. Instead of striking the ice element as Ash had intended, Ursaring growled, his eyes flaring with defiance. He raised his massive, glowing arm, its weight enhanced with raw power, and slammed it down directly into the path of the flame attack.

The fire met Ursaring's Hammer Arm with an explosion of heat, but Ursaring didn't flinch. His muscles rippled as he powered through the searing blaze, the flames licking harmlessly off his thick fur as he pushed... and pushed. His glowing fist surged ahead, and with a bellow of raw fury, he struck Magneton dead on.

Magneton, unprepared for the brute force behind the attack, spiraled violently through the air. Its metallic body clanged against the ground with a harsh, grating sound, the lights of its eyes flickering briefly as it lay there, sparks flying from its joints. But steel-types were resilient, and this Magneton was no different. With a shudder and a grinding metallic hum, it resumed levitation, its resolve seemingly unbroken, though its movements were slower, more cautious now.

Clefable staggered slightly as he emerged from the smoldering flames, his pink fur singed at the edges, his usually pristine form now marred with blackened patches. Despite the burns, he showed no signs of being truly ailed. The attack had struck faster than Ash anticipated, but Clefable remained standing—charred, but undeniably still in the fight. A bead of sweat rolled down Ash's temple, but he allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. Clefable was still battleworthy, and that was what mattered.

Ash's sharp gaze flicked to Houndoom, who prowled closer and closer, embers still flickering in its maw, clearly preparing to launch another devastating attack. The dark hound's snarling lips curled back, revealing gleaming fangs, the sterile lights of the room reflecting in its molten-red eyes.

And Carvanha did not even need to be told as he released a high-pressure Water Gun, a spiraling jet of water that blasted toward Houndoom. The attack wasn't meant to mar or damage, just to be a distraction. But it served its purpose well. The forceful stream of water barreled through the air, forcing Houndoom to halt mid-stride. The flames in its jaws extinguished with a sizzling hiss as it dodged to the side, snarling in frustration.

"Are you both okay?" Ash questioned lowly. A lot of Ursaring's fur had been burned off, and the Pokemon cringed as he was racked with a painful spasm. Clefable chirped, nodding while Ursaring growled furiously. "Listen to me, Ursaring."

The beast growled louder.

"Ursaring!" Ash barked.

He glanced back at his trainer's firm expression.

"We're a team. Listen to my commands, train with me, and you'll be the strongest of your species. That's what I promised you. That promise hasn't changed. You have to listen to me if you want to be the best. Understand?"

A trailing huff of acknowledgment was his answer. Ash nodded. Appeal to a beast's basest nature, and you'll find genuine understanding. Ursaring was not the smartest or most conscious Pokemon. That was common for their species. They were known for their intense rage, unrelenting stamina and

"Having trouble over there?" Archer called out mockingly, uncaring of his Golbat slowly losing ground in the battle against the brat's Haunter. It would win if it knew what was best for it. "We can take a break if you want."

"Carvanha, Water Gun on Houndoom. Clefable, Protect when it counters," Ash ordered, ignoring Archer's taunts.

If he cared enough to look, he would have seen the man frown comically from getting ignored. Houndoom evaded the water-type move effortlessly. It dove in, fangs imbued with fire. Clefable dove in between Houndoom. It bounced right off the shield, landing awkwardly on its back.

"Water Gun again!"

This time, the Water Gun made contact, stunning it only briefly. Meanwhile, Magneton fired a Thunderbolt down at Ursaring. A quick shout of "Double Team" allowed Ursaring to slip in between the bolt of lightning. When Ash ordered him to use Brick Break, he had to resist the urge to use Hammer Arm instead. When Brick Break activated far quicker than Hammer Arm could, he realized why his trainer opted for a less powerful attack. Ursaring buoyantly smacked the steel-type to the ground.

This time, it did not get up.

Carelessly, Archer retrieved Magneton. He wasn't the least bit peeved. However, when Haunter knocked Golbat out, its fist swarming with dark, malevolent energy, he quirked an eyebrow in interest.

"For such a weak brat, he does have some pretty tenacious pokemon," he hummed. "Boy!" Archer called out. "What do you see about joining Team Rocket, hmm? Your skills as a trainer are impressive—compared to those useless grunts, at least. You could make real money and put your skills to actual use."

"Ursaring, Hammer Arm on Houndoom." It was coldly stated—his answer to Archer.

The mere off of joining Team Rocket made his stomach churn.

Ursaring gleefully bashed his arm into Houndoom's back. It screeched in alarm until its head bounced off the floor. Ursaring stood over it, speculative, ensuring that it was actually unconscious before roaring in his conquest. Carvanha was a bit irritated at having his opponent stolen from him.

"I suppose that is your answer, yes?" Archer inquired. Ash's cold, furious stare was enough. He shrugged, humming to himself. "Okay. Since I am clearly defeated, and the authorities are no doubt breaking down the door, I think it is time for me to leave."

"You aren't going anywhere."

"Oh contraire mon frere," Archer chuckled, "I will be." He released a Porygon, of all things, and then—

They disappeared without a trace. The defeated pokemon, with the exception of Magneton, were all left.

Just as Ash was about to curse, smoke flooded the room as he heard a distant crash. His vision grew hazy, and then, he knew nothing.

---

Light cruelly invaded his eyes.

He lifted a palm to ease the suffering. The beams just pierced through the gaps in his fingers. He grimaced, leaning up from the cold surface he'd been lying on. Blanking once, then twice, another wave of light hit him.

Just as a headache did. The headache only worsened when he took in his surroundings, which wasn't much. The room had four walls, a door, and a metal table with his hands confined to it. The metal cuffs jingled as he rattled his hands. Of course, you didn't think that would work, and his wrists only hurt moderately after trying.

Not his best decision.

The door opened.

Ash may have been interested in the person that walked in if he could actually think with this damn migraine.

The tall woman of slim stature sat across from him. Her hair was as green as slime, but her features were far more delicate. And attractive. Can't forget that.

She didn't say anything at first. It was a little peculiar, but Ash just chalked it up as interrogation stratagems. He supposed it would have made him a little more uneasy to have a police officer be so silent. If that was her goal, to make him unsettled, then she may have succeeded if he could actually muster up a thought with this infernal headache.

She sat down, a device on the table. She clicked on the screen once.

"Please, please come quick. There's a bomb!"

A laugh escaped him—an expression Officer Jenny took an exception to.

"The Game Corner! The bottom floor! Quick! Hurry! They said they're going to kill everyone!"

"Mr. Ketchum, is this you in the recording?"

He pinched his nose and leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair. He wouldn't be surprised if it was constructed for the sole purpose of being uncomfortable.

He knew what she was trying to do. One sentence in, and he already knew.

"Lawyer."

Her lips pursed tightly.

"Mr. Ketchum, is this you in the recording?"

Apparently, she thought asking a second time would yield a different result. If he had his eyes open, he would have seen the visible contraction in her face as she sucked on her own teeth.

"Why were you there at the sub-level in the Game Corner? Why were you there at the sub-level in the Game Corner?"

Again, seriously. Why can't she take "fuck off" for an answer? It was pretty obvious what he was saying. After all, he'd only been muttering it two times in a row.

"Lawyer."

"Were you there because Team Rocket hired you?"

And there it is. How fucking predictable. He tried to do one decent thing. He tried to be a hero. Now look at him.

Oh, man. If the joke wasn't being played on him, he'd actually have himself a laugh. Not just one of the small ones either, the big hearty ones, the ones that made your stomach hurt and feel like you had a set of abs just rippling beneath your shirt afterward.

"When did Team Rocket approach you? Was it before or after you came under the employ of Professor Oak?"

His eyes flew open. His reaction sparked a measure of glee in her eyes. He could see it in them swimming like a bowel infection that he just wanted to splatter alcohol over.

"Is Professor Oak a member of Team Rocket as well?"

This was absurd. Before, it was the humorous, hilarious type of absurd. Now. Now, it was the type that made rage flood his veins like battery acid.

"Lawyer."

His rejection did not cause her displeasure. In fact, she grinned. She took that as a positive answer. Of course, she would. He knew he would. If there was even a chance of changing her mind, he would have spoken. He would have foregone his right to have an attorney present with him at all times. But he didn't. He was wiser than that.

If he spoke even another word that didn't include lawyer, his boss would grill him ten ways till Saturday.

"Why were you there at the Game Corner? I understand that you must have a cover as being a normal trainer. Why else would you participate in the gym circuit if you weren't? Or are you a freelance agent of theirs? Not a full-time member, just someone that takes their blood money and does what they are told?"

Ash looked her dead in the eyes and channeled every ounce of hatred he had for Team Rocket and every bit of ire he had for this woman into his amber gaze. Then he growled, "Lawyer."

Officer Jenny's eyes narrowed as she studied Ash's face. She could see the anger and hatred that burned within him, but she was not afraid. She had dealt with many criminals before, and she knew how to handle them.

"Very well, Mr. Ketchum," she said, her voice cold and even. "You are well within your rights to request a lawyer. However, I must warn you that your refusal to cooperate with our investigation will not go unnoticed. We have evidence that implicates you in the activities of Team Rocket, and we will not hesitate to use it against you in court."

No answer.

"You're trying to make me believe that you weren't involved. And yet, you refuse to tell us anything about your involvement with Team Rocket. Don't you think that's suspicious, Mr. Ketchum?"

"Lawyer," Ash repeated firmly, not giving an inch. He knew what Officer Jenny was trying to do—trying to intimidate him into giving up information while simultaneously attempting to give him an "out." But he wasn't going to budge. He had nothing to do with Team Rocket besides his own desire to see them burn, and he wasn't going to let them frame him for their crimes.

Step one was not helping them in fabricating a noose to loop around his neck.

Officer Jenny leaned back in her chair, studying his face. "We know that you were in Celadon for seven whole days. The oh-so-vague warning was a ploy to lure first responders to the Game Corner so they would be wrapped up in the real explosion."

Ash's heart stopped.

Wait, what explosion?

"We have eyewitnesses who saw you at the Game Corner for hours leading up to the explosion. And we also found you knee-deep in their base, your fingerprints on everything. And we also have evidence that links you to Team Rocket."

… He was going to destroy Team Rocket. His knuckles ran white and it took everything he had not to scream. Of course, they'd do that—organize an explosion in their own base to cover their tracks and just cause as much chaos and instability as possible.

"Lawyer," Ash repeated, his jaw clenched tightly.

Officer Jenny sighed, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. "Look, Mr. Ketchum. We're not here to play games. We just want to get to the bottom of this and bring those responsible to justice. If you cooperate with us, we can help you. But if you keep refusing to talk, we'll have no choice but to assume the worst."

At his silence, Officer Jenny sighed and stood up from the table.

"Very well, Mr. Ketchum. We will provide you with a lawyer, but know that asking for a lawyer just makes you look guilty."

Ash watched as she stood from his chair, his mind racing with thoughts of how he had gotten into this mess. He knew he had made a mistake by getting involved with this Team Rocket business, but he never imagined it would lead to this.

However, just as she was about to leave the room, the metal door creaked open, revealing two men dressed in immaculate white and black suits, their faces hidden behind black sunglasses despite the dim lighting.

"Officer Jenny," one of the G-Men said with an air of authority, "we appreciate your assistance, but this is now League business."

"We'll take it from here," said the other one.

Ash observed as Officer Jenny's jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing at the intrusion. She was not one to back down easily, but the G-Men had a way of making people comply. With a curt nod, she exited the room, leaving Ash alone with the mysterious strangers.

Officer Jenny's lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the G-Men. With a curt nod, she stormed out of the room, her anger palpable even after the door slammed shut. Ash could hear her mutter under her breath something about "League overreach" and "bullheaded bureaucrats." The G-Men remained unfazed by her departure.

"If it isn't Dumb and Dumber. As I live and breathe." Ash never thought he would see them again. The theory may have held up if he was a bit luckier in his day-to-day. Sadly, it looks like he used up what was left of his luck in the casino. How cliché.

"Let's get down to business, Mr. Ketchum," said one of the G-Men, his voice as smooth and cold as polished steel.

"Mr. Ketchum," the other G-Man began, taking a seat opposite Ash. His partner remained standing, arms crossed, and posture rigid. "We have some questions for you regarding the incident at the Game Corner."

As the man spoke, Ash couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine. There was something unsettling about the G-Men, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He had heard whispers about them among the other trainers, stories of how they could make anyone disappear if they were deemed a threat to the League.

"Lawyer."

The man sighed. "You have the right to legal representation. However, be aware that your refusal to cooperate may have consequences."

Ash shifted in his seat; his hands folded together on the table before him. He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the sunglasses of the man across from him, his dark hair tousled and amber eyes speckled with redness.

"Can you tell us what happened in the Game Corner? Were you involved in the bombing?"

Ash's mind raced, replaying the chaos and destruction. He recalled the panicked screams, the acrid scent of smoke and burning wood, and the way his heart had hammered in his chest as he ran for safety.

Yes, he remembered the bombing. Just not the one they were referencing.

The G-Men exchanged a glance, their expressions hidden behind the dark lenses of their sunglasses. As the G-Men leaned back in their chairs, Ash sensed their annoyance simmering beneath the surface, and he knew that they would do everything in their power to break him.

"All right, kid," the first G-Man began, his voice dripping with an edge. "Let's cut to the chase. Were you involved in the bombing at the Game Corner?"

Ash's eyes flicked between the two suited men, reading their expressions with an unnerving calm. His heart raced beneath his chest, but he refused to let them see any sign of fear. Instead, he responded simply and with absolute conviction: "Lawyer."

The second G-Man raised an eyebrow. Inwardly, Ash grinned. They probably thought they would just waltz in here, bulldoze over his rights, and just get him to talk, incriminate himself, just so they could frame whatever he did say into what they wanted.

"Okay, Ketchum," said the first G-Man, leaning forward and placing both hands on the table. Huh, when did he lose "Mr?" Ash felt like he should have been offended. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way." Once again, Ash rolled his eyes. But if you're smart, you'll talk to us before your lawyer gets here."

The easy way or the hard way. If they hadn't actually wielded power, he would have just laughed in their faces. Man, these chuckleheads, I swear.

"Now, son, if you wanna be out of here by dawn, you'll do what I tell ya. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, now."

God, just thinking about that old western made him cackle.

Nevertheless…

"Lawyer," Ash repeated, his voice steady and resolute.

"Fine." The second G-Man's patience seemed to be wearing thin. Goody, goody. "But let me lay it out for you. We have reason to believe that you're working with Team Rocket. That you aided and abetted in their attack on the Game Corner. Now, I don't know about you, but that sounds like some pretty serious charges."

The second G-Man leaned in closer, invading Ash's personal space. He breathed out an accusation, his words cold and razor-sharp. "Or perhaps you're just an accomplice to Team Rocket, helping them from the shadows?"

The second G-Man leaned forward, his obsidian sunglasses gleaming under the harsh fluorescent light. "If you insist on playing this game, let's discuss the consequences of your continued silence."

"Should you continue down this path, we will have no choice but to assume you are in league with Team Rocket," the agent said, his voice low and careful. "And as such, you will be charged as an accomplice and face immediate incarceration."

Is that all? He asked himself. Threats? How sad. He expected more.

"You see, we have ways of making people talk—ways that don't involve lawyers or courtroom battles. I suggest you reconsider your position. Prison is an unforgiving place… especially for someone like you."

Threats? Again? They sure knew how to hammer at a dead nail.

"We could always revoke your trainer license and confiscate your pokemon."

Over my dead body, Ash seethed internally, his hands tightening around the armrests until his knuckles turned white. It took every ounce of his self-control not to lash out at the agents, to demand that they leave his pokemon alone, hell, even club them over their heads with his cuffs, but he couldn't afford to lose his cool now.

"Think about it," the first G-Man continued, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Imagine how they'd fare without you. Would they even survive?"

The pain in his chest intensified with each breath. The very idea of losing his pokemon—his friends, his family—was almost too much to bear. But he was not without options, and he had no intention of giving in to their threats, and giving them ammunition. Without it, they'd have nothing.

"Lawyer," he spat, the word tasting like acid on his tongue.

The G-Men's faces remained impassive, their eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, but Ash could sense the tension in the room escalating, like the rumble of distant thunder before a storm. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, focusing on that small pain to keep himself from reacting further.

"Mr. Ketchum," the taller G-Man began, his voice smooth and cold like ice. "We are trying to help you here. But your continued refusal to cooperate is making it increasingly difficult."

The shorter G-Man sighed, leaning forward, elbows resting on the table separating them. "You know what happened at the Game Corner. People are scared, and they want answers. They want someone to blame."

Ash said nothing.

"If you insist on playing this game, Mr. Ketchum, we will play along. But remember: every moment you waste here with your stubbornness is another moment that Team Rocket remains at large."

"Have it your way," the shorter G-Man said, his voice dripping with contempt. He pushed back from the table, the scraping of his chair against the floor echoing like a challenge thrown down.

Ash breathed once more as the men in white and black suits exited the interrogation room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. The word had become a mantra, a shield against the storm that threatened to engulf him and everything he held dear.

"Lawyer," he whispered again, eyes fixed on the cold metal door, steeling himself. He closed his eyes and uttered, "Lawyer."

"Already? I've only just got here."

Ash pried open his eyes against his better judgment. He seemed to be going against that a lot recently. Although, the man he saw went against his better assumptions as well.

He was slim. A man in his early sixties, perhaps even his early fifties, if he aged gracefully. Heavy lines weighed down his face, cradling his mouth like a grip. His ashen eyes stuck out the most, as did his greying set of hair.

The man furled his trench coat so he could sit. His shirt was wrinkled, and his tie looked ready to leap off his collar and strangle him. Moreover, his pants were wrinkled as well and appeared to be a half-size too large for him. They bagged at his knees and thighs.

"Have to say, the way you stone-walled those jabronis was impressive." Not exactly the correct use for "jabroni," but his point was obvious. "Never seen a couple 'o G-Men get flustered like that. You have my respect for that and so much more."

The man raised his hands.

"Before you make the request again, just let me say a few things, all right? If you're unsatisfied, you can keep saying it until you're purple in the face."

"Blue in the face."

"Hm?" The man stiffened.

"The term. It's "blue in the face." Not "purple in the face." Blue. Not purple."

"Huh," he mumbled. "Not that I'm complaining, but why are you speaking to me? Why give me a chance?"

Ash might have smiled. But he was tired. His head hurt like hell, and frankly, he was pissed off. Enraged to hell and back. His victory over Erika was spoiled by Team Rocket. His minor, fleeting victory of them was tarnished by Officer Jenny and Heckle and Jeckle.

"You're the only person who hasn't tried to pin something on me," he said, leaning back and shifting the bones in his wrists as they cracked and groaned. "As far as I'm concerned, you're my new best friend."

The man smiled oddly. Almost like he didn't quite know how to do it.

Ah.

A manufactured reaction. Been a while since he'd seen one of those.

"You're a strange kid."

"Yeah? What makes me strange? My impeccable skills at resisting interrogation or my handsome good looks?"

He snorted out a gasp of laughter. At least he understood sarcasm.

"Most kids I've seen run away from criminal organizations. Not toward them."

"You've seen other criminal organizations?"

"Do you think Team Rocket is the one worth mentioning in the whole world? Boyo, you have no idea what lies beyond the Kantonian borders."

No, he didn't believe that Team Rocket was the only one. They were just the only ones he cared about. Though, the possibility—no, the mere that there was another organization out there, just as bad, possibly even worse, because why not "worse?"—just made his stomach flip into a frigid slate.

"I try not to think about it."

"I can say I blame you. Or at least, I wouldn't if you didn't spend quite a lot of time being a thorn in Team Rocket's business."

Ash snorted. "So what? What are you, one of their fixers or something?"

"Now, who is the one making accusations?"

The teen rolled his eyes, rubbing gunk out of the ducts of his eyes. He dragged a palm over his face, exposing the dark rings around them.

"You haven't been sleeping well."

Not a question. Not even a statement. A fact.

"Of course, I have. I feel like a million bucks."

"You don't have to be sarcastic with me," he said, and Ash rolled his eyes. It was funny how this guy thought he was doing it for his benefit.

"I don't blame you for your attitude. I was a lot like you when I was younger." Ash didn't like where this was heading. "Young. New on the job. The first few years were tough, but so was the whole world back then. Three regions were dead set on another war so soon after the last. Two more were sporting record spikes in crime. I got sent places I thought I wanted to go before, but I saw things you can't even explain."

"Yeah, so what? You can't sleep now? You're horrified by what you've seen?"

"Sometimes, I still can't sleep," he confirmed. "I've gotten a lot better, though."

"Good for you."

"Thank you," he replied, unphased by his off-handed, baleful statement. "It's not the horrors that you see that haunts you. It does, but it leaves that nagging itch in the back of your head, doesn't it? It's the people you couldn't save that grips you. Or for you, it's the ones that were taken instead of you." Ash's amber eyes found his gaze. The man took no pleasure in spotting the stunned glimmer in them. He hoped had been wrong about the boy.

He hadn't.

He was never wrong. Never. For once, he despised his gift for observation.

"The people that died… what makes you better than them, right? What makes you so special that you get to live and they don't?"

"Stop…"

"Then you start wondering if it was all just luck. You hate yourself even more as you begin to believe you just got lucky—you don't feel lucky, but you don't have any other explanation. It's better than thinking you lived for a reason, that maybe you better than they were and—"

"Shut up!" the metal screamed, and the loop snagged and snapped at the desk as he yanked his hands upward. "You don't know a God damn thing!"

"I know plenty," he said mutteringly, staring up at the standing youngling. "I know that no matter what, you're not going to stop. You're going to continue fighting Team Rocket. And I know you're being pulled in two different directions. What you want to do, and what you know you have to do."

Ash grudgingly sat down, his gaze never the foreign man's. "So you're threatening me, trying to get me to stop?"

The man rummaged through his beige coat. "That'd be pointless. Been there, done it. Not trying that again."

Been there, done that. What is it with this guy butchering phrases?

"It's your fight, but you don't have to do it alone." A card slid over the desk. Ash tentatively plucked it between two fingers. The first side was blank. He flipped it over. The other side was as well, save for a phone number scripted in blue ink.

"Who are you?"

"Me? I'm a nobody. To the whole world, I'm just a harmless passerby. A… Looker." Yet another bloke with a flair for the dramatic. Ash snorted, stuffing the card in his tattered, green jacket. "I'll have you released in the next hour. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Ketchum."

"I'll have you released in the next hour?"

Again, what was it with this guy? Was this his second language?

"I'll have released within the hour."

Not the next hour.

The possibility of that being true chilled him. "Looker" exited the room, leaving him alone once more. He must've been some kind of spook. What other kind of person would have a "name" like Looker, carry blank cards, speak in riddles, and have the firepower to dick-down two G-Men?

A spook, that's who.

But Looker, whomever the hell he was, kept his word.

Ash walked out of the station, earning glares and glares from the resident Officer Jenny and, of course, Heckle and Jeckle. Man, spending a while in that box of a room almost felt worth it just to see those looks on their faces. He held nothing against Officer Jenny personally. Not now, at least.

But the G-Men? Oh, if he could, if he had the power, he would make them burn for their threats. If only…

"Try to use a little more hair gel next time. Maybe it'll actually cover up that bald spot you're so embarrassed about." The lighter-skinned G-man nose twitched, and Ash smirked as he popped a pick between his teeth. The last thing he heard from him was his laugh as the doors closed.

Though, Ash's laughter died in his throat when he saw Misty waiting outside, hands at her hip, arms crossed beneath her prominent bust.

"Really?"

Ash glanced back at the build—moreover, the neon lights "Police Station" layered above the door.

"Are you really that surprised?"

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Not as much as I would have hoped." She let out a sigh. "Really. Out of all the things you could have gotten in trouble over, you chose to fight the mob. Are you out of your mind or just mad?!"

"Jury's still out on that one."

Misty sputtered when he walked past her. "This is serious, Ash! You could have been killed!"

"Yup, but really, the only thing I'm gonna die of is starvation. How about you and I grab some lunch?"

She refused to budge, her foot still tapping away. Just as Ash was about to give up and actually apologize, she sighed.

"Fine," she said, "but you're paying."

"That's fine. Food tastes better to me when I pay for it anyway."

"Really?"

"Pfft, no! My wallet always feels lighter afterwards, though." Misty huffed. "Hey, wanna compete in a tournament with me? It starts in a few days, and a whole bunch of strong trainers will be competing."

Her eyes swelled dramatically. "WHAT?!"

When they finally wound up at the diner, it was already night and rain was pouring outside.

The neon sign flickered in the rain-streaked window, casting an eerie glow over Ash's face as he leaned back in the booth, a smirk tugging at his lips. Across from him, Misty drummed her fingers on the laminated menu, her brow furrowed. The aroma of frying bacon and fresh coffee swirled around them, mingling with the low chatter of the other diner patrons.

Ash's amber eyes glinted in the dim light as he watched Misty pretend to study her menu. She'd been on the same page for minutes now. He knew that look—the tight jaw, the distracted tapping. Something was eating at her.

"So," Ash drawled, his voice deceptively casual. "About that tournament."

Misty glanced up sharply, green eyes narrowing. "What about it?"

A grin spread across Ash's face. "I think we should enter. Double battles. You and me, taking on all comers. We'd wipe the floor with them."

Misty didn't respond immediately, her gaze drifting back to the menu as if the secrets of the universe were hidden among the burger options. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the clink of cutlery and murmur of conversation from the other booths.

Finally, Misty spoke, her voice flat. "You sound awfully confident for someone who just spent hours in a police station."

Ash shrugged, unfazed. "What can I say? Trouble finds me, but I always get out of it, don't I? Doesn't stop me from wanting to have a good time."

With a sigh, Misty set the menu down, leveling Ash with a hard stare. "Ash, this isn't just about you. This tournament… it's different. You can feel it, right?"

Leaning forward, Ash planted his elbows on the table, that infuriating smirk still playing about his mouth.

"Different how?"

Misty's gaze flitted away from Ash's intense stare, settling on the rain-streaked window. The neon lights of the diner reflected in the glass. "I don't know," she said, and then in response to his offer, she murmured, "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Ash echoed, a scoff lacing his tone. "That's not the Misty I know. The Misty I know would already be planning her strategy, ready to take on anyone who dares to stand in her way," he said with all the zeal of someone saying that cliche crap.

Misty's eyes snapped back to Ash, a flicker of annoyance sparking in their depths.

"You're manipulating me," she accused, her brows furrowing.

Ash merely shrugged, unashamed.

"And making fun of you."

Misty did not dignify that with a retort. It's what he wanted.

"Not everything is about winning," she countered, her voice taking on a harder edge.

For a moment, Ash's smile faltered a flicker of something—frustration, perhaps, or disappointment—crossing his face. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual mask of nonchalance. "Sure, but this isn't just about winning," he said, leaning back in his seat. "Besides, it'd be fun."

"Fun for you."

Ash's gaze sharpened, his head tilting slightly as he appraised her.

"I thought you'd jump at the chance to prove your strength, to get better. I'm sorry, I mistook you for a trainer."

The words hung in the air between them, sharp and cutting. Misty's glare could have melted steel. "You're a bastard sometimes, Ash," she hissed, her hands clenching into fists on the tabletop.

"Yep, but it got you to say yes, didn't it?"

With a leaden sigh, Misty turned away, resting her chin on her palm as she watched the rain pelt the window. The silence settled over them once more. Outside, the world continued on, oblivious to the storm brewing within the diner's walls. After a few tense seconds, Misty's shoulders slumped slightly, a sign of resignation.

"Fine," she said, her voice flat. "But if this turns out to be as much trouble as everything else you get us into—"

Ash grinned, cutting her off with a wave of his hand. "Yeah, yeah, you'll blame me. I'm used to it." His eyes caught the attention of a passing waitress, and flagged her. "Let's eat first. We'll need the energy."

The waitress, a middle-aged woman with a vaguely homely face and a notepad at the ready, approached their table.

"What can I get for you two?" she asked, her pen poised over the paper.

"I'll have a double cheeseburger with extra fries."

The waitress nodded, jotting down his order before turning to Misty. "And for you, dear?"

"I'll just have a salad, thanks," she said, her voice quieter, almost subdued.

As the waitress walked away, Ash leaned back in his seat, his hands clasped behind his head. A self-satisfied smirk played on his lips as if he'd just won some sort of victory. Misty studied him for a moment, her brow furrowed.

"You're really that confident we can win this?" she asked, her voice a mix of skepticism and genuine curiosity.

"Aren't you?"

Misty didn't answer right away. Instead, she reached for her glass of water, taking a long sip as she stared out the window. The rain had slowed to a drizzle now, the soft patter against the glass barely audible over the din of the diner.

"I'm just asking," she said finally, setting her glass down. "Doesn't hurt to be careful."

"Careful is boring," he whined. "Besides, with you watching my back, what could go wrong?"

Despite herself, Misty felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She huffed out a breath, shaking her head. "Everything, knowing you."

Just then, the waitress returned, balancing their plates on her arm. She set them down with a smile and a "enjoy your meal" before bustling off to another table.

For a moment, the conversation lulled as they dug into their food, the clatter of utensils against plates filling the space between them. Ash ate with his usual gusto, barely pausing to breathe between bites of his burger. Misty, on the other hand, picked at her salad, her fork pushing the lettuce around more than actually bringing it to her mouth. Her thoughts were clearly elsewhere, her eyes distant as she stared down at her plate.

"So," Ash said after a moment, his tone casual but pointed, "are you going to spend the entire time worrying, or are you actually going to help me win this thing?"

Misty's eyes snapped up to meet his, narrowing slightly. "I didn't say I wouldn't help. I just think we need to be smart about it."

"Smart is what I do best. You handle the caution, and I'll handle the winning."

Misty rolled her eyes, stabbing a tomato with more force than necessary. "Yeah... whatever."

They ate in silence for a few more minutes, the only sound the scrape of her knife dragging across the plate. Misty's mind wandered. After a few bites, Ash glanced up, his expression more serious.

"Look, Misty, if you've got cold feet, just say the word. But don't expect me to sit this one out because you're having second thoughts. I'll find some other poor bastard to pull through the mud."

Misty set her fork down, her eyes meeting his. "I'm not backing out. I just think we need to be prepared."

"Okay, fine. We'll start training together, then. We still have a few days left before the tournament."

At that, Misty froze, her eyes widening slightly. She let out a nervous laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "Actually, on second thought, let's wing it, okay? Just go in swinging. We'll probably win the whole thing easily. No need to train together or anything."

Ash eyed her nervous laugh with a lift of his brow before shrugging. "If you say so."

Misty quickly picked up her fork again, poking at her salad as if suddenly interested in the leafy greens. The silence that followed felt heavier than before, her earlier confidence seeming to slip away like sand through an hourglass. She could feel Ash's gaze on her, analyzing, calculating. It was a look she knew well, one that usually preceded some cutting remark or biting observation. But this time, he said nothing, merely taking another bite of his burger, the sound of his chewing suddenly deafening in the quiet.

---

Yet another gym battle for the books. I was pretty satisfied with this one. I felt like I nailed Erika's essence well enough. First time I've ever written her character, but still, I feel like I did an adequate job.

Gastly is now a Haunter. I was tempted to do the evolution after/during the Cerulean chapter, but I figured it was best not to do it that soon.

And now, I will attempt to write my first tournament. I have the utmost faith that it will turn out terribly. Nevertheless, I will spend hours writing the best possible tournament I possibly can, while introducing a few... interesting characters. Also, I will give anyone five, deeply illustrious and but no less delicious digital cookies for anyone who figures out who is the "loudmouth from Unova" that Erika mentioned.

I will admit that the tournament was a new idea that I came up with after proofreading and editing this chapter. Which, has been gathering metaphorical dust in my doc folder for a few months. I kinda have the chapter that was supposed to come after this one already completed, but inspiration struck, and I want to write a cool little tournament chapter. First one of many in this story, of that I have no doubt. I think they're quite underdone in journey stories.

I'm not saying reading the main character just going through the badge challenge, and having skirmishes with the Evil Team, and catching pokemon along the way is boring, but I think tournaments could be neat little things that break up some of the traveling, and the "Evil Team" plot and what you.

Anywho, if you enjoyed the chapter, give me a review and tell me your thoughts. Good or bad, praise and critique alike.