A/N: Before we continue the story I'd like to clarify something. Someone asked me how many chapters are left in this story, and honestly that's a really good question. With the plots I have set for this story, I can say that the story is going to be very long, like, VERY long. I don't have an exact estimate, but I believe it will be more than fifty chapters long. Obviously, the purpose of this story is to figure out exactly who killed Ash's mother and the motive behind it. I hope you guys stay tuned, even though the story will be pretty long. Anyways, feel free to leave more reviews if you guys have any questions or something to say about the story!

The door to Professor Oak's lab creaked open as the last strands of sunlight dipped below the horizon. A soft orange hue stretched across the sky, casting long shadows over the quiet fields of Pallet Town. Ash and Misty stepped inside just as the evening breeze began to cool the air.

Warm lamplight filled the lab, giving it that lived-in glow, where everyone felt safe. The hum of casual conversation and faint laughter floated through the space. There was a sense of calm—earned, not borrowed. Peace after the storm.

Inside, the gang was scattered throughout the lab. Dawn, Serena, May, and Iris were tucked near the TV, swapping stories and catching up. The sound of their voices reminded Misty how much she'd missed all of this. She stepped in and was immediately embraced by familiar arms.

"Misty!" Serena called out, rising to hug her with a bright grin.

"Look who's finally back," May added, tossing her a teasing wink as she wrapped her in a side-hug.

Misty smiled warmly. "Yeah, yeah, I missed you too."

Dawn nudged her gently. "You picked a good night to stop by. Things have been… weird, lately."

Back near the far end of the lab, where the lights were dimmer and the window cracked open to let in the cool night air, Ash found Red and Gary hanging out like they always had—relaxed, confident, and talking shop. A few empty soda bottles sat on the table next to scattered documents and a half-eaten bag of chips.

Red looked up as Ash strolled over. "There he is. The Rocket slayer."

Ash chuckled. "Don't start calling me that."

Gary leaned back in his chair, feet crossed at the ankles. "What's up, man? You look like someone who just found out he can legally drink."

Ash sighed. "I'm not really into that kind of thing."

Red raised a brow. "That's a shame. 'Cause I was just about to ask if you guys wanted to hit up that bar over by Route 1. Just some fresh air, maybe a cold one."

Gary lit up. "You serious? That place is still open?"

"New owners," Red said. "They cleaned it up. Still got that rooftop view of the hills though."

Ash scratched his head, glancing toward the window. "I mean… I guess. I've just never really—"

"C'mon," Red interrupted with a grin. "You can toast to your own comeback. You handled yourself like a pro out there yesterday. One drink's not gonna hurt."

Gary elbowed Ash with a smirk. "Don't make me call you a coward in front of your girlfriend."

Ash rolled his eyes but couldn't hold back a grin. "Fine. Just one."

"Two," Gary added.

Ash laughed. "We'll see."

They headed for the side door, Red tossing the keys casually to Ash, who caught them with ease.

"I get to drive?"

"You took down Butch," Red said, opening the passenger door. "You earned it."

"And we're not telling Gramps," Gary added quickly, slipping into the back seat. "Guy still gives me grief over eating too many Rare Candies as a kid."

Ash started the engine, the car's soft purr humming beneath them as they pulled out of the Oak property and down the road. The evening air was cool and calm.

Deep within the dimly lit underground corridors of Team Rocket's main compound, an eerie silence lingered. Only the soft hum of fluorescent lighting and the distant echo of armored boots filled the air—until a sharp, echoing crack of a glass tumbler shattering against the floor pierced through it all.

Giovanni stood by the massive monitor in his private war room, back turned to Matori. His fists were clenched, his breath heavy. The screen behind him displayed grainy news footage of Butch and Cassidy being wheeled into a secured government hospital under armed guard—bandaged, broken, and helpless.

"Two of my most trusted agents," Giovanni growled, voice thick with venom. "Gone. Just like that."

Matori stood near the entrance, her clipboard held firmly in her hands. "It's been confirmed," she said calmly, despite the weight in her chest. "Ash Ketchum. Red Ketchum. Two other boys—Paul and Trip. They were the ones behind it."

Giovanni turned slowly, his eyes seething with rage but chillingly composed. "So that brat finally decided to make a move… And he thinks I won't notice?" He took a heavy breath, straightening his collar. "He's testing me.

Matori nodded once. "It's clear they're not afraid anymore."

Giovanni chuckled darkly. "Then we remind them why they should be."

He stepped closer, the echo of his polished shoes filling the silence. His gaze was sharp, slicing through the room like a blade. "Pallet Town," he said coldly. "Tonight, I want Ash and Red's blood on the pavement before sunrise."

Matori looked up, blinking once. "Understood."

"I don't want any warnings," Giovanni continued. "I don't want theatrics. No survivors if they get in the way."

She gave a firm nod and turned to leave. "I'll dispatch the Nightshade Unit. The best we have left. They'll be en route within the hour."

"Good," Giovanni said, returning to the screen where Butch's swollen, unconscious face stared back at him. "Let's see how brave the Ketchum boys are… when the dark finally comes knocking."

Matori disappeared through the steel door without another word, already tapping rapidly into a secure device at her hip. Moments later, Team Rocket's Nightshade Unit—a silent, specialized task force trained for infiltration and assassination—began to mobilize in the shadows of Kanto.

Back in the war room, Giovanni stood alone, eyes narrowed.

"You've started a war, Ash. Just like your brother." He muttered under his breath. "Let's see if you're ready to finish it."

The glow of neon lights shimmered off the pavement as Red's black car rolled to a stop outside a small, rustic bar tucked between two old brick shops on the edge of Pallet Town. A worn wooden sign above the door read The Mankey's Paw—an old local dive that had seen generations of trainers pass through its doors, swapping battle stories over cheap whiskey and warm laughter.

Inside, the place was dim but lively. Low music played from a jukebox in the corner, and the warm scent of grilled food mingled with the faint trace of spilled beer on wood floors. Locals filled the booths and barstools, and a soft buzz of conversation blanketed the space like a comfortable jacket.

Red led the way in, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his crimson cap tilted low. Ash followed close behind, glancing around the place curiously—it wasn't often he went out drinking. Gary, meanwhile, had already loosened his collar and flashed that signature smirk that hadn't changed since they were kids.

They slid into a booth near the back, out of the way but with a good view of the whole bar.

Red flagged down the bartender. "Three whiskies. On the rocks."

Gary leaned back in the booth, arms stretched over the top. "Man, this place hasn't changed a bit," he said, grinning. "Still smells like wet carpet and overconfidence."

Ash chuckled. "You sure this place is safe? That guy near the jukebox looks like he could've been in a biker gang."

"That's Old Joe. He used to breed Hitmonlee back in the day," Red muttered with a small smirk. "He's chill."

The drinks came fast—just strong enough to sting the throat, but smooth enough to go down easy. They clinked glasses together with a quiet cheers and each took a sip.

After a moment of quiet, Ash leaned back and exhaled deeply. "Feels weird having time to relax. After everything with Butch and Cassidy… I guess I forgot what normal feels like."

Red nodded slowly. "You earned it. You stepped up when it counted."

Gary raised his glass. "To taking out scumbags. And to future plans." He paused, then looked between the two brothers. "What are your plans, anyway? You gonna keep playing the hero?"

Ash hesitated. "I don't know yet. We still have a lot to fix in Kanto. But once we're done…" He looked down at his glass. "Maybe I'll go back to Sinnoh for a while. Or stay here and help rebuild."

"I might hit the Indigo League again," Red said. "Just to make a statement."

"Classic," Gary snorted. "You two with your heroic comeback tours. Me? I'm thinking about opening a new research lab near Viridian."

Ash blinked. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Not full-time like Gramps. But something smaller—modern. Less books, more tech."

Red gave him a look. "I never thought I'd see the day Gary Oak slowed down."

"Who says anything about slowing down?" Gary replied with a grin, just as his eyes wandered across the room—and landed on a tall brunette at the bar, chatting with the bartender. She wore a fitted black jacket, soft curls resting on her shoulders, and had that effortless kind of confidence that pulled attention like a magnet.

Gary nudged Red with his elbow. "Hold that thought."

He got up, straightened his shirt, and casually made his way to the bar. Ash and Red watched from the booth, sipping their drinks as Gary leaned against the counter with practiced ease.

"You know," Gary said, smiling, "they say the prettiest girls in Pallet Town only show up when I do."

The girl raised a brow, smirking as she sipped her drink. "Oh really? You must have great timing then."

Red shook his head from the booth. "Unbelievable."

Ash laughed under his breath. "He hasn't changed at all."

The girl laughed too—just a small, amused chuckle—then gently patted Gary on the shoulder. "You're cute. But I'm waiting on someone."

"Ouch," Ash muttered.

Gary walked back over with mock pride. "She smiled. That's still a win."

Red rolled his eyes. "Man, leave the poor girl alone with your delusions."

They all laughed again, the moment light and comfortable, like they'd slipped into something old and familiar.

The laughter was still hanging in the air like smoke when Red's eyes drifted out the window beside their booth. His glass paused at his lips, untouched, as the glint of headlights pierced the soft dark beyond the bar.

At first, it was nothing.

But then—one… two… three matte-black vehicles sped past on the dirt road, kicking up a plume of dust in the dim glow of the moonlight. Red's eyes narrowed. Those weren't regular cars. They were marked. Barely visible against the darkness, but unmistakable to someone who knew what to look for—those bold red R decals.

His pulse spiked.

He straightened in his seat, fast, setting his drink down with a clink. "We need to go. Now."

Ash blinked, mid-laugh. "What?"

Gary frowned, confused. "Dude, we just got here—what're you—?"

Red was already pushing out of the booth. "I saw Rocket vehicles. Heading toward the lab."

Ash froze. "What?"

Gary's expression went stiff. "How many?"

"Three. Maybe more." Red was already moving toward the exit.

People in the bar turned to glance at them as Red rushed past, his footsteps quick and heavy. Ash and Gary exchanged a single glance—one filled with all the unspoken weight of what that meant—and took off right behind him.

Outside, the night air hit them sharp and cool. Gravel crunched underfoot as the three of them dashed for the car.

"Are you sure?" Gary asked, climbing into the back as Red swung into the driver's seat.

"I know what I saw," Red snapped, voice sharp with urgency. "They're not wasting time. This is retaliation."

Ash's jaw clenched. "Because of Butch and Cassidy."

Red nodded, turning the key. The engine roared to life.

Gary leaned forward between the seats. "Do you think they're going after Oak? The lab?"

"Everyone," Red muttered grimly, shifting into gear. "They're hitting us where it hurts."

The tires screeched as the car tore out of the lot, Red gripping the wheel tight. The quiet country roads of Pallet Town blurred past as headlights carved through the darkness.

Ash stared out the passenger window, fists clenched, heart pounding.

They had known Team Rocket would respond. But not like this.

Not this fast.

Red leaned forward, eyes locked on the road, brows furrowed with razor-sharp focus. "We're not gonna let them get away with this. Not here. Not tonight."

Gary's voice was low. "They came to our town. Our home."

Ash said nothing for a moment—just stared ahead, the lab still a few turns away, a familiar warmth now at risk of being swallowed by chaos.

Tires screeched as Red's car swerved into the gravel driveway of Professor Oak's lab, the headlights slicing through the Pallet night like blades. Dust shot up in clouds as the car skidded to a halt near the front steps.

Professor Oak, crouched beside a stack of wooden crates near the porch, straightened with a surprised grunt, a wrench still in hand. He squinted as Red, Ash, and Gary all sprang out of the car like lightning.

"What the—?" the Professor called, confused. "Back already? What the hell is going on—?"

"There's no time!" Red shouted, his tone tight, urgent. "Team Rocket's coming. They're about to hit the lab!"

The color drained from Oak's face. "You're serious?"

"Dead serious," Gary said, eyes already scanning the road. "Get everyone inside. Lock everything."

Oak didn't need more convincing. He dropped the wrench and turned back toward the door, yelling into the lab behind him. "Everyone get away from the windows—inside, now!"

Ash didn't follow them in. He tore around the side of the lab, bolting straight for the fenced-in ranch area. His heart pounded in his chest—not from fear, but from the need to protect what mattered most. His Pokémon. His team. His family.

Red moved quick, unclipping a Poké Ball from his belt. "Charizard, let's go!"

In a flash of white light, Red's battle-scarred Charizard materialized beside him, stomping once as it released a deep, guttural growl, wings stretching wide.

Gary followed suit, summoning his powerhouse. "Blastoise—let's hold this line!"

The turtle-like tank emerged with a growl of its own, water cannons locking forward like turrets ready for war.

And then—tires again. A screech, the sound of bikes skidding onto the property. Red and Gary turned just in time to see two silhouettes barreling toward them.

Trip was first to reach the gate, his bike crashing sideways to the dirt as he leapt off it mid-motion.

"Hey!" Trip shouted breathlessly. "A Rocket posse is about to hit us—they're headed up here right now! Just a minute or two out!"

Red exhaled through his nose. "Looks like we backed 'em into a corner."

Paul rolled up right behind Trip and dismounted calmly, his face cool and sharp despite the tension. "Then let's see what they do when we push back."

With swift, practiced hands, he threw a Poké Ball forward. "Ursaring, stand by."

Trip followed immediately, voice sharp. "Chandelure, take position!"

Both Pokémon emerged from their capsules with roars and flares of elemental light—Ursaring pounding its chest, Chandelure floating high, its flames dancing menacingly in the dark.

Ash sprinted back around the lab, five Poké Balls clenched in his hands. He came to a skidding halt beside the others, eyes darting across the team, adrenaline already firing through his veins.

"Everyone's safe inside," he said quickly, his voice just slightly winded. "But we're not letting these guys set one foot past this line."

One by one, he tossed his Poké Balls forward into the open clearing.

"Krookodile, Sceptile, Greninja, Lucario, and Charizard. Come out!"

A thunderous series of roars and howls echoed across the grass as Ash's core team formed a line around him, ready for battle. Krookodile cracked its neck, Sceptile crossed its arms coolly, Lucario flexed with glowing paws, Greninja knelt silently with eyes sharp, and Charizard let out a fiery roar in sync with Red's.

In the distance—just barely now—the faint sound of more engines rumbling, closer and closer.

Ash took one step forward, his cap low over his eyes, voice calm but filled with conviction.

"They wanna bring the fight to Pallet Town?"

He looked to Red, then to Gary, Paul, and Trip.

"…Then we make damn sure they remember who they're messing with."

Charizard flared its wings.

From the shadows of the road, several black Rocket cars pulled up in a staggered formation. The doors opened in sync, and out poured a dozen Rocket grunts, each one spitting venom in their expressions. They were dressed in dark vests, combat boots, and headbands marked with the crimson "R."

Pokéballs were thrown in every direction—Rhydons, Golbats, Toxicroaks, Houndooms, Skarmory—waves of them.

Without hesitation, Red pointed. "Charizard—Flamethrower! Clear the front!"

Charizard opened its jaws and unleashed a torrent of fire across the ground, forcing the front wave of grunts to scatter back as their Pokémon shrieked. The earth shook with impact. Dirt blasted upward. The flames lit the night in a fierce orange blaze.

"Blastoise, Hydro Pump left side!" Gary called, water jets slicing across the line of Golbats.

Paul's Ursaring and Trip's Chandelure engaged the advancing enemies in a brutal, ground-level brawl—dark-type versus ghost and power versus speed. Trip barked orders sharply, while Paul stayed cold and laser-focused.

Ash stood at the center. "Sceptile—Leaf Blade! Greninja—Water Shuriken! Krookodile—Dig!" His Pokémon launched into the chaos with lethal precision.

But in the middle of the mayhem, a single Rocket grunt—unshaven, wild-eyed—locked eyes with Ash. He grinned cruelly and shouted over the battlefield:

"Hey Ketchum! Your mommy wouldn't be proud of you right now!"

The words hit like a thunderclap in Ash's chest.

He froze for a moment. Then he snapped.

Red, too busy fighting, didn't see it at first.

Ash bolted forward, dodging past his own Pokémon and heading straight for the grunt like a man possessed.

"You wanna say that again?!" he shouted.

The grunt didn't get the chance. Ash tackled him to the ground, fists flying. The two wrestled in the dirt, trading blows.

The others noticed now, but none more quickly than Red, who turned and rushed forward. He grabbed Ash by the back of his shirt and yanked him off.

"That's enough!" Red barked.

Ash struggled for a second, chest heaving, eyes still wild. "He talked about Mom, Red! He talked about—!"

"I know," Red said firmly. "But you don't give that power to scum like him. You're better than that."

Ash's fists were still trembling, but slowly, he nodded. The grunt on the ground coughed blood into the dirt and crawled backward, more scared now than smug.

Back at the battle, the tide had turned. Rocket's Pokémon were falling fast, either unconscious or fleeing. Their trainers realized this wasn't going their way.

One of them called out. "Fall back! Now!"

They retreated. Cars revved back to life and tore off into the night.

The silence that followed was filled with heavy breathing and scorched earth. This whole incident had been a huge confidence booster for them. Team Rocket couldn't even launch a proper attack on them anymore. They were finally starting to show signs of weakness and lost influence in the region. If they could somehow capitalize off this, they could clean up the region for good.