A/N - G'day everyone, and welcome to the rewrite of Hybrids: Outbreak!
Wait, a rewrite? Yes, indeed! This story holds a very special place in my heart, and I'm thrilled to share it with you all. If you're not here for the personal stuff, feel free to skip to the bottom of this note and dive straight into the story. But for those who'd like to know the backstory, here's why this rewrite means so much to me.
This project is a heartfelt homage to my very first internet friend, Twilight Equinox. I never knew his real name, but what I do know is that many years ago in 2006 (bugger me, almost 20 years! Where has the time gone?), an awkward kid reached out to let this incredible author know how much he loved his story. Twilight was the first author who ever replied to me, and for as long as he was posting, we chatted about his Pokémon fic, Hybrid: Outbreak.
His kindness didn't stop there. He even featured me as a character in future chapters, an honour that meant the world to me. This story was the first of its kind I'd read and the raw graphicness of it had me gobbling it up.
But then, just as he was about to release the final chapter, Twilight vanished. Our conversations stopped. The updates ceased. Our time together came to an abrupt halt, and it hit my younger self hard. It took me a long time to come to terms with his disappearance, and even now, I occasionally send him a message, just out of habit to say hi.
As time went on, I decided to adopt his story as a tribute to his work (and to stay within FF rules, of course). My goal is not only to honor his incredible creation but also to give his wonderful story the ending it deserves. I'll be attempting to complete the final chapter and do my best to give the ending the justice warranted of such an impactful story. I know for sure it won't measure up to what he had in store, however I'm excited to give it a go.
I highly recommend checking out Twilight's original work to see where I've drawn my inspiration. His story is a masterpiece, and I hope I can do it justice. You can find it in my favourite stories/author if you so desire.
So, Twilight Equinox, this one's for you. Thank you for the memories, the friendship, and the story that inspired me so deeply. I hope I can make you proud.
LET'S GO!
XxXxXxX
Hybrids: First Iteration
Strand 1: Infection
The sun blazed mercilessly, its heat oppressive and unrelenting. The air hung heavy with humidity, clinging to everything like a suffocating blanket. Even the air conditioning inside the local Pokécenter struggled to make a dent in the sweltering midday heat.
Ash Ketchum lounged on a blue sofa in the lobby, lazily spinning a Pokéball on his finger. His green jacket and hat lay discarded on the floor in a heap beside his shoes. One leg dangled off the edge of the cushions as he sprawled out, clearly uncomfortable. He groaned, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "This heat is ridiculous," he muttered, grabbing his pants and adjusting the fabric. "I'm soaked, and it's making my balls stick to my leg."
Across the room, a redheaded girl sat up in her chair, pausing the yellow leaflet she'd been using to fan herself. She wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue at Ash's comment. "Gee, thanks, Ash. I really needed to know that," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Ash, no stranger to her tone, rolled his eyes and continued adjusting himself. The girl sighed, turning her gaze away. "But you're not wrong. This heat is insufferable."
"What are you complaining about, Misty?" Ash shot back. "I'm the one stuck in a black t-shirt. You're barely wearing anything." He gestured to her outfit—a pair of cut-off shorts and her usual yellow crop top with suspenders. Misty's cheeks flushed briefly but she quickly recovered, narrowing her eyes at him.
"You know, you're probably the only guy who'd complain about that," she said, her voice sharp. "Besides, you're the genius who was so eager to accept Professor Oak's invitation that you couldn't wait until summer was over. You've got no one to blame but yourself."
"Oh, like it's taking that long," Ash replied smugly. He reached into his crumpled jacket and pulled out two small badges, holding them up triumphantly. "It's only been nine days, and I've already got the Whirlwind Badge and the Tidal Badge. Just five more gyms, and the Violet Isle League is mine." He twirled them in his fingers proudly. "AND I'm doing it with Oak's loaner Pokémon, no less." He leaned back, clearly pleased with himself. "I'll have this wrapped up in two weeks, tops."
"I know, I know. I was there when you won those badges," Misty said, her tone a mix of annoyance and reluctant admiration. She wanted to downplay his achievement, but she couldn't. He'd earned them fair and square. The headstrong boy had learned some serious strategy over his years of battling.
'I guess some things do change,' she thought to herself, though she quickly pushed the idea aside. Some things change, but most things stay the same. "But you're denser than I thought if you think you can do it in two weeks. If you're making such great time, why are we wasting the whole day in this Pokécenter?"
Ash opened his mouth to retort, but the sound of rustling papers cut him off. Both teens turned to see Brock lowering the newspaper he'd been reading. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and his expression was one of pure exasperation. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long, audible sigh.
"I swear… you two never quit, do you? I was hoping the time apart during the Hoenn and Battle Frontier leagues would've matured you, but noooooo." Brock shook his head, his disappointment palpable.
Despite being seventeen now, they still bickered like they were twelve. Sure, there were some physical changes - Misty had grown into her curves and Ash had filled out with muscle, but at heart, they were still the same kids. "Listen, it's hot, it's sticky, and it's all-around miserable. The last thing I want is to add your argument into the mix. So shut it." With that, he picked up his newspaper and went back to reading.
"Aww, come on, Brock," Ash said, flashing a grin. "We're just blowing off some steam. Right, Misty?" He turned to her, but the look she gave him made it clear she wasn't on board. Ash gulped and quickly shifted his attention back to Brock. He squinted at the newspaper in Brock's hands, reading the cover. "Astonishing Pokémon News?" Ash said, his voice dripping with disbelief. "Are you retarded? You're reading that crap?"
"Oi!" Brock shouted. "Language!" He nodded toward two young trainers at the counter who were handing their Pokémon over for healing. Ash glanced their way and offered a sheepish smile. Brock sighed, shaking his head. He wasn't sure when it had started, but Ash had developed a habit of cussing, probably thinking it made him seem more mature. If anything, it had the opposite effect. "Just because you've picked up some colourful phrases doesn't mean you need to show them off."
"Oh, hilarious," Ash muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "A lesson in maturity from the guy reading tabloids." He laid back down and resumed spinning the empty Pokéball on his finger. "So, what's the big story? Aliens stealing Trainers' Miltanks? Or maybe it's a report on a new Pokémon: six feet tall, covered in hair, with a giant zipper on its back?" He instinctively reached for his pocket to grab some treats for Pikachu, then paused, remembering his partner wasn't there. 'Oh, right…'
"Very funny," Brock said dryly, not looking up from the paper. "Actually, it's about some recent sightings in the Violet Isle region. Pretty close to where we are, in fact. Apparently, some hikers claim they've seen a half-human, half-Pokémon creature in the woods."
"Oh, this I have to see!" Misty exclaimed, jumping up from her chair. She hurried over to stand behind Brock, leaning over his shoulder to read the article. Ash rolled his eyes but reluctantly got up and joined her, peering at the newspaper.
"Does it mention how sober these hikers were?" Ash asked, squinting at the blurry photo. "Oh, come on! You can tell this is edited. Look at the airbrushing—it's practically glowing." He pointed at the image, only for Misty to punch his shoulder. Ash winced, rubbing the spot.
"Ow!" Ash hissed, shooting Misty a sharp look as he rubbed his arm. "What was that for?"
Growling, Brock snapped, "That's enough!"
Misty crossed her arms and relented. Her glare though, not so much. "Let Brock have his fun, will you? He doesn't ruin your hobbies, does he? And don't forget, he agreed to come along with you for Oak's challenge. So maybe show a little gratitude."
"Yeah, I know," Ash said, his tone edging on sarcastic. "So did you. But let's be real, you both had your own reasons for tagging along." He tilted his head, feigning innocence. "What was it again? Oh, right. Brock wanted access to some 'amazing Pokémon breeding library,' and you..." He paused, a finger to his forehead in mock forgetfulness. "You were all about getting a tan and meeting some 'interesting guys.' Sound about right?"
"I could be at that library right now." Brock mumbled. "Instead of listening to you two go on like third-graders at recess."
"And I should be at the beaches." Misty complained. "I could be meeting cute guys, instead of being stuck here. No offense Brock, but you two don't exactly fit the criteria for being 'hot'." She was lying, but then again, she was good at it.
"'No offense, Brock?'" Ash asked. "What about me?"
"Well, I wanted to offend you," Misty shot back, mirroring the same smug grin Ash had given her earlier. Ash cocked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.
"Well, you're not exactly a shining example of your gender either," Ash retorted, his tone sharp. He was getting better at lying too. "If you're so desperate for a tan, there's plenty of sun out there. Might do you some good. I don't think many 'cute guys' are lining up for someone as pale as you."
"Oh, that's it," Misty said, her voice low and dangerous. She slugged him on the arm again, harder this time. Ash braced himself, refusing to show any reaction, but when she hit him twice more, his resolve began to crack. Just as Misty pulled her arm back for another swing, Brock reached out from the chair and caught her wrist.
"Alright, enough with the domestic abuse, Misty," Brock said, his eyes still glued to the article. "I don't want to have to put you two in a time-out." Ash and Misty exchanged one last death glare before reluctantly turning their attention back to the newspaper. Misty was the first to break the awkward silence.
"Looks like they merged his picture with a Charmander," she said, pointing at the image. "They even gave him a tail."
"Actually, it's a Charmeleon," Ash corrected, tapping the photo. "See the bump on the back of its head? It's more like the… uh… the…" His voice trailed off as Misty's glare intensified. She hated being corrected. He cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away.
"Whatever it is, it's hideous," Misty said, sticking her tongue out in disgust. "I can't imagine being around someone who looks like that. What a freak."
"Wow, real compassionate," Ash shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You're a regular humanitarian, Mist." Her face flushed red, and she glared at him in poorly concealed humiliation.
"Whatever!" she snapped, pouting. "It doesn't matter anyway, because it doesn't even exist. You said so yourself." She stormed off in a huff, plopping down in her chair with her arms crossed. Ash winced as if he'd taken another punch. She'd really taken that one personally. He hated when he said the wrong thing. There were always touchy subjects they tried to avoid during their arguments, but every now and then, one of them would hit a nerve. Admittedly, it was usually him. They always forgave each other eventually, but there was always an awkward silence afterward.
Brock glanced up at Ash, ready to scold him, but something in Ash's expression stopped him. It was clear the boy already felt bad. Instead, Brock sighed and buried his face back in the newspaper. Ash scratched the back of his head, scrambling to find the right words to smooth things over.
"Look, Misty, all I meant was…" Ash trailed off as she jerked her head away from him, her posture rigid and unyielding. He hung his head, knowing no amount of fast-talking would dig him out of this hole. "Sorry," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
Misty didn't respond at first, but after a moment, she sighed and slouched slightly in her chair. Ash let out a quiet breath of relief. She still wasn't looking at him, but he recognized her body language. It was her way of saying she wasn't going to hold a grudge. Well, this time, at least.
"I think I'm going to take a nap," she said eventually, her tone firm and final. "We're not going anywhere until tomorrow anyway." Her words left no room for argument and Ash wasn't about to push his luck. She stood up and walked toward the hostel room they'd rented for the night, closing the door firmly behind her.
Ash stared at the door for a long moment, then sank back onto the couch, running a hand through his messy black hair.
"Smooth," Brock said after a beat, not looking up from his newspaper.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ash grumbled. He picked up his hat and started fanning himself with the brim, though it did little to combat the stifling heat. If anything, it felt like the temperature was climbing even higher.
Several miles away, in the depths of an abandoned hospital, three scientists scurried around a cramped laboratory. They moved frantically, carrying tubes of blood and bone marrow from one station to another, muttering to themselves as they worked. The dim lighting made their tasks even more difficult but they had no choice, there were no better light sources available and they couldn't afford to waste time searching for them.
The sliding door hissed open and the scientists nearly dropped their tubes in shock. There was something about the boss's presence that sent a chill down their spines. The tall man stepped into the room, his silhouette framed by the shadowy hallway behind him. Smoke curled upward from the cigar clenched between his teeth, filling the air with a pungent haze.
"Progress report," he said simply, his voice rough and commanding. The scientists exchanged nervous glances, their unease palpable.
"W-well, sir…" one of them stammered, his eyes fixed on the linoleum floor. "We've done what we could with the time you gave us, but… uh…"
"Is it finished?" the boss interrupted, his tone sharp and impatient.
The scientist hesitated, then sighed and held up a small vial. "Yes. But it's only a prototype. We haven't had the chance to properly test it."
"That's not your job," the boss said coldly, snatching the vial from the man's hand. "Your job was to develop it. I'll handle the testing." He turned the vial over in his fingers, a dark smile spreading across his face. "In fact, now that it's ready, I can send for the test subject immediately."
"I can't believe anyone would volunteer for something like this," another scientist muttered under his breath. The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. The boss's grin widened maliciously.
"Who said anything about volunteers?"
Ash lay on his bunk, staring up at the white ceiling long into the night. Sleep eluded him as a whirlwind of thoughts churned in his mind. Chief among them was the girl sleeping on the bunk below. Misty hadn't said a word to him since their argument earlier that day and Ash hated the silent treatment. It wouldn't have been so bad if she weren't just a few feet away. He almost wished he could switch places with Brock, who had claimed the separate bed on the other side of the room. Unfortunately, both Brock and Misty were fast asleep, leaving Ash to deal with his restless thoughts alone.
It felt lonely not having Pikachu by his side. He'd left his loyal friend back at home to help his mum with some chores, as Professor Oak had insisted Ash complete this league challenge using only the six loaner Pokémon he'd provided. Ash was never one to back down from a challenge, but he was starting to wish he'd argued to bring Pikachu along for company. Sure, he had Misty and Brock, but at times like this, neither of them could fill the void. Brock would likely tell him his guilty conscience was his own fault, and Misty… well, she was the problem.
Ash rolled over, trying to distract himself by planning his strategy for the next gym battle. 'Let's see...'
Nurse Joy had mentioned that Gym Leader Trevor favoured Fire-type Pokémon, especially Magmar. That meant it was the perfect opportunity to let Poliwhirl shine. Geodude might even get a chance to evolve into—
A crash shattered the silence and Ash bolted upright. His eyes darted toward the doorway. The noise had come from the lobby. Moving quickly but quietly, he climbed down the ladder and pulled on his pants and t-shirt. Misty and Brock were still sound asleep, so Ash decided to investigate on his own. He crept to the door, eased it open and slipped into the lobby, closing it softly behind him.
Ash glanced over at the counter and saw Nurse Joy slumped over her desk, her head resting on the surface. Her arms hung limply at her sides, and her back rose and fell slowly as she breathed. Ash grinned.
'She must have fallen asleep,' he thought. 'That bang was probably her head hitting the counter. She's probably exhausted.'
But his smile faded as he noticed something sticking out of the back of her neck. A sense of unease crept over him as he moved closer. Carefully, he reached out and pulled the object free. Ash stared at it, turning it over in his fingers as he realised it was a tranquiliser dart.
'What the hell is this?' Ash thought to himself.
He twirled it in his fingers a few times before bringing the tip of the needle up to sniff. It was as he thought: sleeping powder. Probably from a Butterfree, but it could just as easily be from a Venomoth as well, the two Pokémon had a very similar smelling powder.
As he chewed over what was going on, Ash slowly slunk down and pressed his back against the desk. This was definitely not good. He looked back to the door he came from. He needed to wake Brock and Misty. Then they could-
His thoughts came to a screeching halt when he heard a door click open from the other side of the desk. Sweat began to bead down his forehead as he slapped his hand to his mouth, holding his breath. He heard three sets of footsteps and voices whispering. He slowly inched over toward the edge of the desk so he could eavesdrop.
"…not in this room either." Grunted a man's voice.
"That only leaves two more guest rooms." A female's voice spoke up. "Let's get to work and finish this mission before someone gets suspicious."
Gathering confidence, Ash peered out from around his wooden hiding spot. He may have only caught a glimpse of the three intruders, but that was all he needed. Black suits, black caps, and a big standout red "R" on their chests. Ash's face contorted into a scowl. 'Team Rocket. These pricks again. Wonderful.'
Ash reached to his belt as the footsteps started moving again. The next room in their path was his and he was not going to let these two-bit crooks get the jump on his sleeping companions. Gingerly and swiftly, Ash removed a small Poke ball from his belt and let it enlarge in his hands.
"Surprise, assholes!" Ash yelled, rolling out from his position right in front of them. The members each let out a stifled cry of shock. Ash held the Poke ball out and a red beam shot from the front onto the ground in front of him. The red light took the form of a round bug with antennae and then turned into a real creature. The purple ball of fur stared at the Team Rocket members with its large red bug eyes.
"Venonat! Supersonic!" Ash commanded, putting his hands to his ears. The Pokémon nodded, then opened its small mouth wide enough to emit a piercing screech into the air. The Rockets put their fingers in their ears and groaned in pain. Ash smiled victoriously, but it didn't stay long. The nearest member drew his foot back and kicked Venonat away, sending the light bug halfway across the lobby. Its screech ended, turning into a high-pitched wail of pain.
Gasping, the teen dashed after it, thinking, 'What the hell's gotten into them?'
Despicable as they were, Rockets rarely physically attacked Pokémon. Ash suddenly wished he had his own Pokémon with him. His current roster just wasn't battle-hardened enough. Venonat pushed itself to its feet as Ash arrived but swayed dizzily.
Ash looked back at the Rockets and saw them reach for their belts. Ash waited for the Poke Balls to come out, but was instead shocked to see them pull guns from the holsters at their sides. They lifted the weapons up and aimed them at the boy. Ash's eyes went wide.
"Shit!" Ash exclaimed, picked up the wobbling Venonat and dove behind the nearest couch. There were muffled gunshots, followed by a hail of darts crashing into the back wall and into the fluffy pillows of the couch. Ash took a few deep breaths. 'Guns! Freaking guns! What the hell are they playing at? I've never seen them this aggressive before!'
"Venonat, I need you to stun spore those guys over there." Ash said.
The bug let out a weak chirp in reply. Ash quickly lifted him just above the couch, but another round of shots forced him to yank Venonat back down.
Too late.
Three darts were already lodged in his partner's small, fuzzy body.
"Venonat!" Ash shook the small bug desperately. "Are you all right?"
A soft snore was his only response.
Ash cursed under his breath and recalled Venonat to its Poké Ball. No time to dwell on it, he needed another plan. His fingers found the next Poké Ball on his belt, and an idea struck.
Without hesitation, he chucked the sphere into the air.
The Rockets fired immediately, their darts bouncing harmlessly off the flying object. A red beam shot from the ball as it hit the ground, materializing into the waiting form of Bulbasaur.
"Bulbasaur!" Ash shouted from behind the couch, voice tight with urgency. "Leech Seed! Vine Whip! Acid! ANYTHING!"
"Bulba!" The reptilian Pokémon cried, releasing a flurry of spores from the bulb on its back.
"Don't breathe it in!" the female Rocket hissed, frantically reloading her gun. "It's Leech Seed!"
"Move, Bulbasaur!" Ash yelled.
The spry Pokémon quickly realized the danger and darted around the room, weaving erratically to avoid incoming shots.
"Hold still, damn you!" the woman growled under her breath, taking aim. She fired and missed again, the dart lodging harmlessly into the rug instead.
"Good job! Now Vine Whip!"
Bulbasaur lashed out with its vines, wrapping them around the female Rocket's arms. With a sharp tug, the Pokémon flung her across the lobby, sending her crashing into the Pokécenter's front door with a sickening thud. She crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain.
"All right! Now the other two! Go for the guns!"
But it was too late.
The remaining Rockets had finished reloading. The Leech Seed cloud had dissipated, leaving Bulbasaur exposed. The first shot struck its hind leg; the second hit the base of its bulb. The reptile let out a strangled cry before collapsing, unconscious.
A red beam shot out, recalling the fallen Pokémon to its ball.
Ash's heart pounded. He reached for his belt. Now what? He was running out of options. Then it hit him, Geodude! The darts would just bounce off his rock-hard body! His hand flew toward the furthest Poké Ball—
Then he heard it.
The unmistakable creak of a door opening.
"What the HELL is going on out here?"
Ash's stomach dropped.
Misty stood in the doorway of their room, rubbing her eyes, her white nightgown swaying slightly as she yawned. "I swear Ash, if you're practicing battle techniques at this ungodly hour, I will—"
Her words died the instant her sleepy gaze landed on the two armed Rockets.
Her breath hitched. Her eyes went wide. She screamed.
The two men instantly turned their weapons toward her.
"No!"
Ash vaulted over the couch and charged them.
The nearest grunt barely had time to react before Ash tackled him to the ground. The impact knocked the breath from both of them but Ash recovered first, scrambling for the man's weapon. Just as he was about to wrap his fingers around the gun, a sharp sting flared at the base of his neck.
Ash's body seized. It only took a moment for his fingers to lose all fine motor control and he clumsily grasped at the dart lodged in his spine. His vision blurred; his limbs turned sluggish.
CRACK.
The grunt's gun hilt suddenly smashed into the side of Ash's face. The pain was distant, like it was happening to someone else.
Ash collapsed onto the floor, blood trickling over his left eye.
Another shot.
A second dart slammed into his chest.
His breath shuddered. His body refused to move.
Somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard Misty scream his name.
He turned his head towards the sound groggily, vision hazy. Misty was rushing toward him but the Rockets were already reloading. She hesitated, then spun on her heel, retreating into the room.
They chased after her.
Two more shots.
Then… silence.
Ash barely registered the figure looming over him. The female Rocket. Her face twisted with rage as she raised her boot and brought it down.
The last thing Ash remembered was the sickening crunch. Then—
Darkness.
Jarring pain slowly dragged Ash back to consciousness. He groaned as he tried to move, every nerve in his body flaring with fire. His head throbbed relentlessly, a deep, pulsing ache that made his vision swim. His limbs felt sluggish, weighed down by the lingering effects of the sleeping powder. Everything around him was a blur.
With a shaky hand, he reached behind his neck, fingers brushing against the cold metal of a dart. He yanked it free, wincing as the needle left his skin, then tossed it aside. His hand drifted to his chest. Thankfully, no dart. It was already gone.
As his eyes adjusted, the bleak reality of his surroundings came into focus. A jail cell. Grey concrete walls, a cold, hard floor, and rusted bars that cast jagged shadows in the dim light. He forced himself to sit up but immediately regretted it as pain from before tore through his body, sharp and unrelenting. It was like his body had all compounded it all to slam into him the second it realised he was awake. It was worse than anything he could remember.
Gritting his teeth, he reached up to his head, fingers grazing a rough line of stitches where the gun had struck him.
"They stitched me up…" he mused bitterly. "At least these bastards have some manners." His hand dropped to his nose, where a brace held the broken bridge in place. Even the lightest touch sent a spike of pain through his skull. "Great. Note to self, diving headlong into Rocket Grunts is definitely not an effective battle strategy."
Then it hit him, the flawed tactic reminding him fearfully of why he dived in like that in the first place.
"Misty! Brock!"
The moment the thought surfaced, adrenaline cut through the pain. Ash turned sharply, his body screaming in protest as he scanned the cell. His breath hitched at the sight of Misty lying motionless on the ground, Brock slumped in the corner. Both were unconscious.
Ignoring the fire in his ribs, Ash crawled over to Misty, his pulse hammering in his ears. A dart jutted from her neck, just like the one he'd seen in Nurse Joy. Her face was twisted in discomfort, her body still, save for the shallow rise and fall of her chest.
Relief and guilt twisted together in his gut.
He lowered himself beside her, gently lifting her head into his lap. With steady fingers, he removed the dart, wincing as she let out a soft, pained moan. "Damn it…"
On instinct, he ran his fingers through her damp hair, brushing the sweat-matted strands from her forehead. The tension in her face eased little by little, her whimpers fading to silence. A faint, barely-there smile ghosted across her lips. It wasn't much, but it was enough to settle some of the tightness in his chest.
Ash glanced at Brock. No visible darts, nor any obvious injuries. Just completely out cold. 'At least he's not in pain.'
His hand brushed against his belt. His stomach dropped. His Pokéballs were gone.
"Dammit," he muttered under his breath. Of course they were gone.
His gaze drifted past the bars. A long, empty hallway stretched in both directions, featureless cement walls offering no clues about where they were. His eyes narrowed at the cell door. Patches of rust marred the metal, corroding sections of the bars. 'If Brock and I work together, maybe we can break through.'
He looked back at his companion, debating whether to wake him. "We really don't have time to waste…"
A plan was forming. He just needed Brock awake to make it happen.
"…Ash…"
A soft, pained mumble reached his ears. Ash looked down to see Misty stirring, her body shifting restlessly in his lap. Her eyes remained shut, but her expression was twisted with fear.
"No… Ash… please leave him alone…" she whimpered, reaching out blindly with trembling fingers.
"Hey, hey." Ash gently shook her shoulders. "Wake up, Mist. You're having a nightmare. It's me. Ash. I'm right here."
Misty's eyes fluttered open, her pupils unfocused as she fought to return to reality. "A-Ash?" she whispered, her voice raw and disoriented. "What… what's going on? Where…" She groaned as a fresh wave of pain throbbed in her skull, her hand instinctively reaching for her head.
Ash immediately resumed stroking her hair and to her surprise, it soothed the ache almost instantly. The tension in her shoulders eased and she let herself sink back against him. It was only then that she realized exactly where she was with her head nestled in Ash's lap. Heat rushed to her face. Embarrassed, she turned toward his body, hoping he wouldn't notice.
It was then she remembered the dart and she lifted a shaky hand to her neck.
"I already took care of it," Ash murmured, catching the movement. He noticed her blush but chose not to mention it. There were more pressing matters. "I don't know where we are, only that we are locked in a cell. Brock's still knocked out, but he's alive."
Misty hesitated, taking in their bleak surroundings before speaking. "Is Team Rocket behind this?"
"I don't know," Ash admitted. "It sure looks that way, but they used guns, not Pokémon. That's not their usual style." His eyes narrowed. "I don't care who they are as much as I care about what they want though."
She swallowed hard, then weakly asked, "…Ash?"
His soft gaze rested on her face. "Yeah?"
She furrowed her brow, realising the childish nature of the question. "Will you… will you tell me everything's going to be all right?"
Ash hesitated just for a second before forcing a reassuring smile. "Yeah. Things… everything's going to be all right," he said, his hand still gliding gently through her hair.
He only wished he could believe it himself.
Sighing, he leaned his head back against the cold wall, his muscles still aching with every breath. "As long as we stick together, we can handle anything they throw at us."
A sneering voice shattered the moment.
"Ironic, then, that we've come to break you up."
Ash's head snapped up, and Misty turned sharply toward the source of the voice. Two figures loomed outside the cell, both familiar and unwelcome. The man and woman from the Pokémon Center attack.
"You two," Ash growled, his hands clenching into fists.
The woman smirked. "How's the nose?"
"Peachy," Ash shot back. His eyes flickered between the duo. "How's the headache? Enjoy Bulbasaur's full body massage?" He then remembered there was originally three of them. "And where's your friend? I was hoping to catch up."
The man's expression darkened. "Our friend? Intensive care. Broken arm. Three shattered ribs."
Ash let out a bark of laughter. "HA, he totally deserved it. Care to elaborate? I could do with some cheering up."
"That would have been my handiwork." The new voice came from behind them. "I only regret not being able to share the experience with you two."
Ash turned to see Brock sitting up against the wall, eyes sharp and filled with unyielding fury as he scowled at them. He wondered how long Brock had been awake, silently listening.
"Don't get any ideas," the woman snapped, pulling out a set of keys. "We're only here for the kid." She inserted the key into the lock with a sharp click. "Don't be idiots. Make this easy on yourself." She then paused. "Or not, we can have some more fun. Either way, your choice."
Misty's fingers curled around Ash's sleeve as he slowly lifted her head from his lap and placed her gently on the ground.
"Ash?" she murmured weakly, her voice laced with worry.
He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness that rushed over him. His body protested, but he planted his feet firmly, his gaze burning with defiance.
"Fine," he said, leveling his captors with a glare. "You want me? You'll have to fight me first."
"Ah, the fun way," the woman purred. "I'll enjoy paying you back a few more bruises." She reached for her belt and pulled out a sleek red rod. Her partner did the same.
With a metallic click, they unlocked the cell door and stepped inside.
Ash didn't wait. He lunged at the woman, swinging a punch with all the strength he could muster. Still drug addled though, his strike went wide.
The woman barely had to move. She simply pressed the red rod against his side.
A sharp crack split the air as thousands of volts of electricity surged through Ash's body. His muscles seized, fire igniting in every nerve. He let out a strangled scream and collapsed onto the cold concrete, clutching his side.
"Ash!" Misty cried, scrambling toward him.
The woman smirked. "What do you think? Stings like a Voltorb, huh?" She twirled the rod between her fingers. "Just one of Team Rocket's newest toys. I'd love to show you more."
She punctuated her words with a vicious kick to Ash's stomach.
A wet cough tore from his throat as spittle sprayed onto the grey floor.
"Give up?" she taunted. "Or do you still want to play the her—OW!"
The Rocket yelped as Misty dug her nails deep into the woman's thigh.
"Leave him alone!" Misty shrieked, raking her nails down with all the force she could muster.
The woman howled and brought the rod down hard, striking Misty across the forehead. The impact sent her reeling, a sharp burn left in its wake. She crumpled, clutching her head as pain radiated through her skull.
"Stupid bitch!" the Rocket seethed, raising the rod to smite her again, but Brock was faster.
He barrelled into her from the side, slamming her into the bars with bone-rattling force. He caught her wrist and twisted, the rod clattering to the floor.
"You made a big mistake," he growled.
The male Rocket lunged to intervene but Brock was ready. He drove his elbow backward into the man's gut, knocking the wind from his lungs, then seized a fistful of his hair and swung him face-first into the bars. In a display of dexterity, he threw the man up and caught him by the throat, feet dangling in the air.
Now Brock had them both. Each gasped for breath, struggling uselessly against the rock-type gym leader's iron grip.
Bringing his face close to theirs, he muttered darkly, "Now… I think I owe you each a broken arm and a few shattered ribs."
He started laying on the pressure. A shriek ripped from the female Rocket as a crack from her wrist sounded out. Her counterpart started gurgling, veins standing out on his forehead as his complexion began turning a mottled red and blue.
All of a sudden, Brock screamed.
His entire body seized as he grabbed at his head, fingers digging into his skull as if trying to keep it from splitting apart. He crumpled to the ground, writhing in agony, another shrill cry wrenching itself from his throat.
The Rockets quickly staggered away, eyes darting to the source of the attack.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway.
A man emerged from the dim light, his presence commanding and precise.
Dressed in a long-sleeved black suit, his figure cut sharply against the dull grey of the prison. His slicked-back black hair shone under the faint light, his pale complexion making the simple, unreadable smile on his lips all the more unsettling. His stride was slow and deliberate; militaristic.
Both Rockets straightened instantly.
Ignoring their pain admirably, they snapped into crisp salutes, barking, "Captain Avarice!"
"At ease," the man said simply, his voice smooth and commanding.
He stepped further into the room, his presence like a shadow stretching across the floor.
"I came down here because I assumed these three might give you trouble." His lips curled into a faint smile as his gaze swept over Ash, Misty, and Brock. "Although, it would seem they'll give us no more problems tonight."
Ignoring him, Ash crawled over to Misty. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow, and a dark bruise was forming on her forehead. He brushed a strand of hair away from the injury, his chest tightening as she whimpered softly. The shock from the rod had left her trembling, her body still struggling to recover. His eyes flicked to Brock, who had stopped yelling but was still clutching his head, his face twisted in indescribable pain.
Ash's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. He pushed himself to his feet, his body screaming in protest, but he refused to stay down. The Rockets turned back to face him, their red rods already in hand. Avarice raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mild amusement.
"Still standing? Very impressive," Avarice said, his tone dripping with mockery.
"Although… I'm sure I can change that soon enough." He held up a gloved hand, the black leather catching the dim light and he snapped his fingers. From the shadows behind him, a Hypno emerged, its pendulum swinging hypnotically. "Shall we have a repeat of your friend's affliction?"
Ash's eyes narrowed, his voice low but steady. "If you think you have what it takes to stop me, then do your best." He took a step forward, his body tense and ready. "But I guarantee I'll take all three of you down before I fall."
Avarice chuckled, a cold, humourless sound. "Really? How interesting. You think you're so strong, don't you, Mr. Ketchum?" His smile widened, but there was no warmth in it, only malice. "Well, unfortunately for you, I know your weak points."
He snapped his fingers again. This time, Misty's scream tore through the air. She clutched her head, her body curling in on itself as tears streamed down her face. Ash dropped to his knees beside her, his hands hovering uselessly as he tried to comfort her. Unfortunately, her shrieks only grew louder, more desperate.
"Stop it, STOP IT!" Ash roared; his voice blown out with fury. He turned to Avarice, his eyes blazing. "Stop it right now, you son of a bitch!"
Avarice tilted his head, his expression one of feigned disappointment. "Now, now. I hardly think language like that is necessary."
"I'll fucking tear you apart!" Ash shouted, surging to his feet. He charged at Avarice, but the two Rockets intercepted him, their red rods crackling with energy. They struck him again and again, the blows sending violent jolts of pain through his body, but Ash didn't stop. He fought back with everything he had, his fists swinging wildly as he tried to push past them.
Avarice watched with that same infuriating smile, his arms crossed as if this were nothing more than a mildly entertaining spectacle. Ash's vision blurred with pain and rage, but he kept going, driven by the sound of Misty's screams and the knowledge of Brock's twisted pain.
No matter how valiant though, the repeated hits eventually brought Ash to his knees. His body was spent, his energy drained, adrenaline run dry, yet he continued to swing at the Rockets, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. "Please…" he gasped, his voice breaking. "Just stop… I'll go along with you. Just leave my friends alone."
Avarice's smile widened and his eyes crinkled upwards. "See? Was that so hard?" He snapped his fingers once more, and Misty's screams cut off abruptly. She slumped to the ground, her breathing ragged but no longer frantic. Brock, too, released his head and slumped to the floor, his face pale but free of pain.
Ash collapsed forward as well, the weight of everything crashing down on him. The two Rockets grabbed his arms, hauling him to his feet. He was too exhausted to resist.
"Wait! No, you can't do this!" Misty mewed weakly, struggling to push herself up onto her knees. "Ash!"
"Stay down," the female Rocket growled, her voice sharp and final. "We're taking him with us."
"Like hell you are," Brock growled, starting to rise, but Ash shook his head.
"No, Brock," Ash said, his voice quiet but firm. "Just stay down."
"What? But, Ash—"
"They only want me," Ash said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing him down. "They won't hurt you if I go peacefully."
Brock's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he glared at Ash. "You actually expect them to keep that promise?" he seethed, his voice low and urgent. "They'll come for us later. You know they will."
Ash met his gaze, his expression firm. "And I want you there to protect Misty."
Brock opened his mouth to argue, but the words died on his lips. After a moment, he gave a reluctant nod. Ash nodded back, a silent understanding passing between them. Then he turned, letting the two Rockets drag him toward the cell door.
"Ash! No! Don't leave!" Misty's voice cracked as she shouted after him, crawling forward to grip the bars of the cell, doing everything she could to get herself to her feet. Her face was streaked with dust and tears, her eyes wide with fear and desperation.
Ash glanced over his shoulder, forcing a small, reassuring smile. "I'll be okay," he said, his voice softer now. "We'll be together again soon. I promise."
The female Rocket rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she slammed the cell door shut and locked it with a loud click. Avarice stood a few steps away, his arms crossed and that infuriating smirk plastered across his face. Without a word, he turned and led the way down the hall, the two Rockets dragging Ash behind him.
Misty sank to her knees, her hands still clutching the bars as she watched them disappear around the corner. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, her breath hitching as she tried to hold herself together.
Brock crawled over to her, his movements slow and pained. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Misty didn't resist. She buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt as she clung to him.
"Don't worry," Brock said, his voice calm. He hid the fear well. He ran a hand over her hair, trying to soothe her. "Ash will be okay. He's been through worse than this. And besides…" He paused, glancing toward the ceiling. "I managed to send Zubat out for help before they knocked me out. It shouldn't be too long before Officer Jenny finds us. We'll get through this."
Misty nodded slowly, her face still pressed against his chest. She didn't say a word, but her grip on him tightened like his shirt was a lifeline.
After what felt like an endless maze of hallways, Ash was finally dragged into a small, sterile room. The stench of antiseptic filled his nostrils, mingling with something metallic… something unmistakably wrong.
He'd figured out long ago that this place was some kind of hospital, but the ominous atmosphere made it clear this wasn't for healing. The harsh overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting long, sharp shadows across steel tables lined with sinister-looking instruments.
His jail cell had been cozy compared to this.
Avarice's voice cut through the quiet. "Get him on the table."
Ash gritted his teeth. "What are you sick bastards planning, anyway?"
No one answered. The two Rockets at his sides shoved him forward, tore his shirt off him and hoisted him onto the table. Leather straps snapped tight around his wrists and ankles, biting into his skin. He gave them a token struggle before quickly realizing how completely useless it was.
He sighed. "Look, guys, I appreciate the effort, but it's not time for my annual check-up yet."
A chuckle rumbled from the dark corner of the room.
"Ah, there's that humour I was expecting."
A flicker of orange light cut through the dimness; a cigar, igniting. Smoke curled lazily in the air as a figure stepped forward into the sterile glow.
Ash's stomach dropped.
"Giovanni," he hissed. His presence added a whole other level of danger to the picture.
The Team Rocket boss gave him a slow, satisfied smile. "Ah, I'm glad to see you're not too drugged to recognize me." He took a drag from his cigar, exhaling a plume of smoke. "I trust you're finding the accommodations… adequate?"
Ash forced a smirk, refusing to show an ounce of fear. "Quite comfy, really. Although my pillow could use fluffing."
"Of course." Giovanni flicked away some ash, then turned to Avarice. "You're dismissed, Captain."
"Yes, sir." Avarice saluted and stepped out, the heavy click of the door sealing Ash's fate.
The room darkened, leaving only the single light above him, its cold glow pressing down on his face. His vision blurred at the edges, but he could still make out the movement of figures stepping closer.
Ash swallowed. "All right. I'll bite. What the hell is going on?"
Giovanni's smile didn't waver. "We're just going to run a few… tests, that's all."
"Tests?" Ash echoed, and despite himself, his voice cracked.
Giovanni stepped fully into the light now, revealing a long syringe in his gloved hand. The thick black liquid inside glistened under the sterile glow, viscous and unnatural.
Ash's heart slammed against his ribs.
Behind Giovanni, two doctors moved into view, each wielding a wickedly curved scalpel.
Ice shot through Ash's veins. His breath came too fast, too shallow.
Then Giovanni leaned down, his voice silk-smooth, predatory.
"Try not to struggle, Ketchum," he murmured. "You'll need to conserve your energy."
His smile widened, dark amusement flickering in his eyes.
"Because this… is going to be very, very painful."
Ash's distant screams ripped through the halls, raw and agonized.
Misty bolted upright, her breath catching in her throat. Her wide, frantic eyes darted around the cell, searching—hoping—for some sign that this was all in her head. But there was no mistaking the voice.
It was Ash.
"Brock…" Her voice was barely a whisper, but thick with terror. She turned to him, her hands trembling. "Brock, it's Ash. Oh God, they're killing him!"
Before Brock could stop her, she stumbled to the door, grabbing the bars in a white-knuckled grip. She shook them with all her strength, her voice breaking as she screamed into the empty hallway, "STOP IT, YOU BASTARDS!"
There was no answer. Just Ash's tortured cries echoing back at her, relentlessly unending.
"Misty." Brock's voice was low, steady, but no less strained. He walked up behind her, placing his hands gently over hers, trying to still her trembling fingers.
"Ash! No, oh no, Ash! No!" She gasped between sobs, pressing her forehead against the cold iron bars.
The screams didn't stop. If anything, they seemed to grow sharper and more ragged.
Misty let out a broken cry and turned, burying her face in Brock's chest. "I can't take this, Brock. I can't – I can't listen to this!"
Brock held her, jaw clenched, heart pounding. The sound was unbearable, every cry from his lifelong friend tore through him like a knife. And hearing him suffer like this, knowing there was nothing he could do… He swallowed hard. He had to stay strong. If not for himself, then for Misty. Just like Ash requested.
"Shh," he murmured, guiding her back down. "Come on. Try to think of something else."
Misty didn't respond at first. Her body still shook against his. Then, hesitantly, Brock began to hum, soft, wavering notes of an old tune Ash used to sing while they travelled to help her relax.
But it didn't help.
The screams were still there, clawing at their ears, their hearts, their very souls. Misty pressed her hands over her ears, but it was useless. The sound felt like it was inside her now.
Hours passed. Then, as suddenly as they had started… The screams stopped.
Misty's head shot up, her breath caught in her throat.
Silence.
An awful, endless silence.
She waited, listening, praying for something, anything. A groan, a cough, a word.
Nothing.
And Misty didn't know which was worse, the noise… or the quiet.
To Be Continued…