The air in Pallet Town held a quiet serenity that belied the excitement brewing just beneath its surface. Small cottages with neatly painted fences stood in orderly rows, surrounded by vast green fields that stretched out towards the horizon. A soft wind stirred the grass, and the hum of cicadas filled the evening sky. It was a town where everyone knew one another, and the sense of community was as palpable as the fresh air. But on this particular evening, there was an undercurrent of tension, a buzzing of anticipation.
Red sat on the edge of his bed, staring out of the window at the slowly dimming sky. His thoughts whirled, as restless as his legs that swung back and forth unconsciously. Tomorrow, he would leave this quiet village behind and embark on the journey he had dreamed about for as long as he could remember. Becoming a Pokémon trainer was the goal, but what lay ahead filled him with equal parts excitement and anxiety.
He couldn't stop thinking about Professor Oak, the wise and renowned Pokémon researcher who had mentored many trainers before him. Red idolised him, but with that admiration came a gnawing doubt. Was he really ready? Could he live up to the expectations?
Red looked at the cluttered desk in the corner of his room, where a framed picture of himself and Professor Oak stood, taken the day Oak first gave him his Pokédex. It was a small token, but the significance was enormous. That device, the tool of all great trainers, was not just a gift—it was a responsibility.
In the mirror hanging on the wall opposite, Red caught a glimpse of himself: a young boy with scruffy dark hair, his face a mix of determination and uncertainty. His signature cap, worn and slightly too big for him, rested beside him on the bed. He smiled faintly at the thought of tomorrow's departure, but deep down, the worry gnawed at him—what if he wasn't truly prepared?
Part 2: Restlessness and Discovery
The night air outside was still and cool, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming wildflowers from the outskirts of Pallet Town. Red walked with no real purpose, his footsteps echoing faintly against the cobblestones that lined the quiet streets. His restlessness had drawn him out of the comfort of home, out from under the worried gaze of his mother who had sensed his nerves about tomorrow's journey.
The village was peaceful, as it always was. Distantly, Red could hear the soft, rhythmic chirping of Kricketot in the grass, their song a natural symphony against the backdrop of the gently swaying trees. Pallet Town was a place where nothing extraordinary ever happened—until now.
As he wandered closer to Professor Oak's lab, Red's eyes fell on the large, familiar building. It stood at the edge of the village, slightly removed from the rest of the town, a place of quiet authority and knowledge. The lab itself was an impressive structure, much larger than the quaint cottages around it. Its thick stone walls had weathered decades, enduring both the passage of time and the elements. Wide windows framed by heavy oak shutters lined the exterior, though most were dark, signalling the end of the day's work. But as Red drew nearer, something caught his attention—a faint flicker of light from within.
He stopped in his tracks, instinctively pulling his cap lower as he narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of the unusual sight. Oak's lab was usually dark at this hour, locked up and secure until morning. The professor was nothing if not meticulous, always following a routine.
Red's curiosity flared. He knew this place as well as anyone in Pallet Town—he had spent countless afternoons here, listening to Oak speak about the vastness of the Pokémon world and studying the rows upon rows of books that lined the shelves. Inside, the lab was a veritable treasure trove of knowledge. Wooden tables, worn and scratched from years of research, stood scattered throughout the space, littered with vials, scattered notes, and ancient tomes whose spines were cracked from frequent use. Poké Balls, both ordinary and rare, were neatly arranged in cases along the far wall, each marked with a handwritten label in Oak's precise script.
In the far corner of the lab, the most impressive feature was Oak's prized research station. It was dominated by a large, polished workbench covered in complex machinery—monitors displaying the biological data of various Pokémon, their heart rates and energy levels pulsing rhythmically on the screens. Nearby, an incubator softly hummed, its temperature carefully regulated to protect delicate Pokémon eggs. The air in the lab always smelled faintly of paper, ink, and the sterile tang of the electronic equipment.
But tonight, something was off. That light—soft, flickering—was not coming from the usual lamps Oak used, but from somewhere deeper within the building. Red felt a sense of unease creeping up his spine as he drew closer, his boots silent on the grass. A knot formed in his stomach. This wasn't right.
He stepped closer still, keeping his movements slow and careful, his pulse quickening in time with his footsteps. Through one of the large windows, Red peered inside, his breath fogging the glass as he leaned in. He could see into the dimly lit interior of the lab. It wasn't the warm, inviting place he knew—it seemed different now, more sinister under the cloak of darkness.
And then he saw it—a shadow moving near the back of the room, illuminated briefly by the dim glow of a single lamp left on Oak's desk. A figure, hunched and silent, moved between the equipment, carefully sifting through papers and drawers. They were methodical, deliberate, not the careless actions of someone who had stumbled in by mistake. This person knew exactly what they were looking for.
Red's heart began to pound in his chest, each beat reverberating in his ears. His hands felt clammy as he pressed himself against the window, trying to get a better view. He recognised the desk they were rifling through—Professor Oak's private desk, the one piled with half-written notes on rare Pokémon species and ancient texts from far-off regions. The professor guarded it closely, rarely allowing anyone to look through its contents.
The intruder reached for one of the open drawers, their gloved hands pulling out a stack of papers, their movements swift and sure. The soft rustling of paper was the only sound in the stillness of the lab, aside from the faint hum of the machinery in the background.
Red's mind raced, his instinct telling him to run, to find help, but he was rooted to the spot, torn between fear and a fierce need to act. He couldn't just leave this—couldn't stand by while someone violated the sanctity of the place that held so much knowledge, so much history. But what could he do? He had no Pokémon, no real way to defend himself. Yet, as he stood there, watching the shadowy figure plunder Oak's life's work, Red felt a surge of anger.
Without thinking, he edged closer to the door. His hand reached out to the cold brass handle, fingers trembling. He hesitated, his mind a whirlwind of doubt and fear. But the sight of the intruder inside, stealing something that didn't belong to them, spurred him on.
Red turned the handle slowly, wincing as the old door creaked louder than he'd anticipated. The sound was small, but in the silence of the night, it was deafening.
The figure inside the lab froze.
Red's breath hitched in his throat. He took a step back, hoping he hadn't been seen. But it was too late.
Part 3: The Break-In
Red's mind raced, each breath growing more rapid, more shallow. The figure inside the lab moved with unnerving precision, their steps silent, yet purposeful, the faint scrape of boots on the tiled floor the only sound breaking the oppressive silence. The soft glow of the single lamp threw their shadow into exaggerated shapes against the walls, giving the intruder an almost inhuman presence. Red pressed himself harder against the cool glass of the window, the chill biting into his skin as he squinted to see more clearly.
The lab, usually a place of quiet study, now felt almost sacred in its violation. Every item within those walls had a purpose—Poké Balls, data logs, maps of the region, rare research materials, all of it a lifetime of work meticulously maintained by Professor Oak. This was more than just theft. Red could feel it. It was a desecration.
His heartbeat was a steady thud in his ears, louder than it had ever seemed before. The still night air around him was heavy with the scent of dew-soaked grass, the comforting earthiness of Pallet Town suddenly foreign and wrong. Something inside the lab caught the light—a glint of something metallic—and the figure turned. The faintest crack of a smile tugged at the corner of the figure's mouth, barely visible beneath a black mask that covered the lower half of their face.
That was when Red saw it—a patch, stitched onto the intruder's sleeve. A bold, scarlet "R."
Team Rocket.
The stories flooded Red's mind in a rush—whispers from trainers passing through town, tales of an organisation that bent Pokémon to their will for profit and power. He had dismissed them as nothing more than cautionary tales, distant troubles that only existed in the farthest reaches of the Kanto region. And yet here they were, in Pallet Town of all places.
Red's breath caught in his throat. He wanted to run, to shout, to do anything to warn someone, but his feet were rooted to the spot. He watched as the figure moved with calculated speed, heading toward a tall metal cabinet at the far end of the lab—the one Oak had shown him only once, with a grave warning never to touch it. Rare Pokémon were stored inside, kept safe from those who would exploit them. And now that very danger had come.
Red's muscles tensed, his mind swirling between fear and the urgent need to act. Without thinking, he pulled open the lab door. The sudden creak of the hinges echoed through the still night air, loud and jarring. Too loud.
The figure inside spun around, their movements sharp and deliberate. Red took an instinctive step back, his hand gripping the edge of the door. For a moment, neither of them moved. His heart was pounding so hard now that it seemed impossible that the figure couldn't hear it.
"Oi, what's this?" came a second voice, rough and mocking, from the shadows.
Red barely had time to react before another figure emerged from behind a row of shelves. Taller than the first, this second intruder had a more imposing build. The lamplight revealed a pair of sharp eyes gleaming with amusement beneath a cropped, dark fringe. His jaw was angular, clean-shaven, and when he smiled, it was a sneer that curled unpleasantly at the corners. His uniform was much the same as his partner's—black with a scarlet "R" emblazoned across the chest—but his presence was heavier, more dangerous.
"Looks like we've got ourselves a witness," the taller grunt said, his voice dripping with a casual cruelty that sent a shiver down Red's spine. His partner, the first figure, a lithe woman with short, cropped hair peeking from beneath her hood, stepped forward. Her sharp features, now visible in the faint light, were set in a cold, calculating expression, her lips barely moving when she spoke.
"Don't just stand there, grab him."
Red's body moved before his mind could catch up. He tried to dart back through the door, but the taller grunt was quicker. A strong, calloused hand seized him by the collar, pulling him violently into the lab. The sudden force knocked the wind out of him as he hit the floor, pain shooting up his back. His vision blurred for a moment as he lay there, gasping.
The woman approached with a smooth, predatory grace, her boots clicking softly on the lab floor. She crouched low, her masked face mere inches from his. Red could see the cold gleam in her eyes, the sharp intelligence behind them, and he knew in that moment that she was no ordinary criminal.
"You really picked the wrong night to wander around, kid," she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. There was no malice in it, just the cold, detached tone of someone who saw him as nothing more than an inconvenience. Her gloved hand reached towards the Poké Balls on the shelf behind him, fingers brushing against the smooth, polished surfaces as if selecting her next prize. "But don't worry—we won't be staying long."
The taller grunt's grip tightened around Red's collar, pulling him up to his knees. Red struggled to break free, but the man was far stronger, his hand like a vice.
"Let's wrap this up," the grunt said, his voice as cold as his partner's, though his eyes gleamed with a flicker of sadistic amusement.
Red's vision swam. His thoughts raced, desperately searching for a way out, but all he could think of was how helpless he felt. He was out of his depth, no Pokémon to call on, no plan, no hope.
Then, without warning, the air crackled.
A flash of light filled the room, bright and blinding. The sharp crack of electricity split the air with an almost deafening hiss. Red's body tensed as the wave of energy surged through him, a painful jolt that left his muscles seizing. For a brief moment, everything was white noise, his vision flooded with blinding light.
And then came the sharp sound of something heavy hitting the floor.
Red blinked rapidly, trying to regain his bearings. The world swam back into focus in fragments—the grunt's hand had released him, the woman had staggered backwards, and the air was filled with the acrid smell of burning. Red glanced up, just in time to see a small, yellow figure darting through the shadows of the lab—a Pikachu, its fur bristling, tiny sparks of electricity still dancing across its body.
The woman cursed under her breath, her face twisted in a mix of pain and fury. She stumbled towards the door, clutching something tightly to her chest—a Poké Ball. One of Oak's rare Pokémon. The taller grunt, still dazed from the shock, was already retreating.
"Let's go," the woman hissed, her voice no longer calm and collected, but edged with frustration. The two intruders disappeared into the night as quickly as they had come, leaving behind the faint smell of singed fabric and burnt ozone.
Red's limbs felt heavy as he slumped to the floor, his body still tingling painfully from the residual electricity. His chest heaved with shallow breaths as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He wanted to stand, to chase after them, but his body betrayed him, his muscles weak and unresponsive.
The woman cursed under her breath, her face twisted in a mix of pain and fury. She staggered towards a cluttered desk where Professor Oak often worked late into the night. Amidst the scattered papers and research notes, her hand grabbed something not at random, but with purpose—a thick, leather-bound book. Red blinked, struggling to comprehend. He had seen that book before. It contained Oak's personal research, detailed information about rare Pokémon that most people didn't even know existed.
"Let's go," the woman hissed, her voice no longer calm and collected, but edged with frustration. She clutched the book to her chest as if it were more precious than gold. The taller grunt, still dazed from the shock, stumbled towards the door, shooting a glare at Red as he followed his partner into the night.
Red's mind whirled. Why take a book? There were Poké Balls, valuable technology, all within reach, but they had chosen that book. His heart sank as he realised the significance of it. He didn't know all the details, but Oak had been working on something secret, something he'd only ever mentioned in passing—an especially rare Pokémon, one that wasn't meant to be made public yet. And now, Team Rocket had their hands on all of Oak's findings.
The acrid smell of singed fabric and burnt ozone still hung heavy in the air as Red lay helpless on the floor. His body refused to respond, every nerve still rattled from the electrical surge. He wanted to shout, to give chase, but his voice caught in his throat, weak and useless.
The Pikachu stood a short distance away, its dark eyes fixed on him. There was a quiet intelligence in its gaze, as though it understood the gravity of what had just transpired. It wasn't wild—not entirely. Red could sense a connection between the creature and the lab, as though it had been watching over the place for some time.
Before Red could move, before he could even thank the Pikachu for saving him, the lab door burst open once more, and Professor Oak, along with a group of police officers, stormed inside. Red managed to lift his head slightly, catching the concerned look on Oak's face as he rushed over.
"Red! Are you alright?" Oak's voice was thick with worry, his hands gently checking Red for injuries.
Red nodded weakly, his voice barely a whisper. "They... they took something. A book, with all your research…"
Oak's face paled. His eyes darted to the desk, where the empty spot marked the book's absence. He knew immediately what had been taken, and the depth of the loss. His expression darkened, the weight of what had just occurred pressing down on him.
"They know," Oak muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words made them more real. "They know about it."
Red felt a chill run through him. Whatever Oak had been working on, whatever was detailed in that book, it was no ordinary research. And now it was in the hands of Team Rocket.
