Pushing the cart through the PokéMart, Austin felt a weight settle over him. Every item he placed inside was a reminder of the dangers lurking outside these safe, commercial walls. His fingers lingered over the rock-climbing gear, the rope's gritty texture grounding him in the present. As he tucked the harness and helmet into the cart, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was preparing for a battle he barely understood, let alone felt ready to face.

Pikachu and Vee watched him from the floor, their wide eyes following his every move. They didn't understand the complexities of human conflict, the layers of cruelty people were capable of. But they could sense it—the shift in his mood. He tried to hide it behind a smile, but it felt forced, hollow. The air in the PokéMart felt heavier, thick with the weight of his racing thoughts. Team Rocket was out there, and he had no idea what they were capable of.

The memory of Sird's attack flashed through his mind like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. It replayed over and over, every detail sharper, more vivid. Her cruelty had shattered any illusions he had about how dangerous this world could be. The fear it left behind was raw, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. This wasn't a game anymore.

Am I being paranoid? Are my fears overblown? The questions circled in his head as he absentmindedly reached down to Vee. The Pokémon pressed against his leg, his warmth offering a small comfort. Pikachu sparked lightly beside him, trying to catch his attention, his little attempt at lightening the mood almost bringing a smile to Austin's face.

He forced a laugh, grateful for the distraction. They were trying, in their own way, to make him feel better. It was heartwarming... and heart-wrenching. Here they were, these innocent creatures, pulled into a conflict they didn't ask for. They trusted him, loved him, and yet all he could think about was, What if I can't protect them?

The thought lingered, a dark cloud hanging over everything as he moved through the aisles. With every step, his determination grew, but so did his fear. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him, each item he tossed into the cart feeling heavier than the last.

When he reached the cashier, the man eyed the taser gun Austin placed on the counter. He could feel his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. What was he, a kid, doing buying things like this? Things most adults would hesitate to pick up.

"For my safety," Austin said, his voice awkward and unsure. "I'm going through some of the uncharted areas of Mt. Moon." The words felt flimsy, like they were more for his own benefit than the cashier's.

The man just nodded, like it was no big deal. But it didn't ease Austin's nerves. As he asked about rock climbing lessons, the cashier's raised eyebrow felt like a subtle judgment on how poorly prepared he was. Austin chuckled, more out of nervousness than anything else. "Well, as they say, 'Fortune favors the bold.'"

Even as he said it, the words felt empty. Hollow bravado masking the gnawing insecurity in his gut. He didn't feel bold. He felt like he was in way over his head.

After a few minutes of wandering around like a headless chicken—no, a Torchic—ugh, Austin hated that saying. He shook off the thought as he pushed open the door to the Pewter City Indoor Climbing Center. His first impression was awe. Expansive climbing walls stretched high into the cavernous space, dotted with colorful holds that formed intricate routes. Some looked easy, almost inviting, while others seemed to defy gravity. Natural light spilled in from the skylights above, casting a warm glow on the climbers scaling the artificial cliffs. The atmosphere buzzed with energy, a blend of challenge and excitement that was contagious.

He made his way to the front desk where a young woman with short-cropped hair and a bright smile greeted him. Her enthusiasm was almost disarming.

"Hi! How can I help you today?"

"I'd like to register for climbing classes," he said, trying to match her energy with a smile of his own. "I heard there's a weekly fee?"

"That's right! It's 1000 Pokédollars per week," she confirmed, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "And you'll need a Flying-type Pokémon for safety reasons."

"Why a Flying-type?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

She pointed towards a rock wall where an older man—probably the coach—was climbing. Attached to his harness was a majestic Pidgeot, its keen eyes following his every move. "The Flying-type Pokémon can assist in case of falls or if climbers find themselves in a difficult spot."

"Okay, yeah, that makes sense. I have a Spearow," he replied, relieved that he had a Pokémon that could help out.

"Great, then we're happy to have you here," she said warmly, finishing up his registration. "Classes start in about an hour. Feel free to explore the facilities and meet the coach if you'd like."

"Really? I can meet the coach?" he asked, surprised.

"Of course! It's always good to meet your instructor beforehand," she assured him.

He nodded gratefully and turned to signal Pikachu and Vee, but they were already a few steps ahead, darting inside with their usual boundless enthusiasm. He couldn't help but smile at their energy.

"Sorry about that," he said, glancing back at the clerk.

"No, go have fun!" she laughed, waving him off.

Once he was equipped and ready, Austin gave a thumbs-up to Pikachu and Vee, who watched from the sidelines, their eyes sparkling with excitement. His first attempt at the wall was probably too ambitious. He reached for a hold that was clearly out of his range and ended up tumbling back to the mat in a not-so-graceful heap. Spearow squawked indignantly, fluttering wildly to stabilize him, only to get tangled in the safety rope. Austin couldn't help but chuckle, the absurdity of the situation momentarily easing his nerves.

Alright, he told himself, let's take it slow this time.

He opted for a route that looked more manageable. It started off well, and he began to gain some confidence, moving steadily upwards. But just as he was finding his rhythm, his foot slipped, and he swung like a pendulum. Spearow, in a well-meaning attempt to help, swooped in, but instead of steadying him, he bumped into him, sending them both into a spinning mess.

From the corner of his eye, Austin noticed Vee, his posture tense, ears flat against his head, ready to leap into action. Pikachu and Rattata tried to look calm, but he could feel their anxiety radiating off them. Pikachu, especially, hadn't touched his beloved ketchup chips, his eyes glued to Austin, every muscle taut. They were putting on a brave face for his sake, and the realization both touched and hurt him. They believed in him, but could he really protect them?

"Hey, coach," he called out, pulling himself back to focus. "Can my Pokémon join?" he asked, glancing at his team. They lit up like fireworks, and he could practically see the relief in their eyes—except for Spearow, who glared at him like he was some sort of traitor.

"Don't worry, you still only need to save my butt," he teased, looking up at the bird, who nodded sharply.

The coach, a big man with a friendly yet firm demeanor, smiled and nodded. "Sure, they can join in."

With that, his nerves settled a bit. They were in this together—all of them. No matter what happened, they'd face it as a team. Even if the wall seemed insurmountable, and his fears loomed large, he knew he wasn't alone. And that made all the difference.

----------------------------------------

After several hours of rock climbing, Austin barely managed to drag himself to the bed. The second he collapsed onto it, a deep, exhausted sigh escaped him. The mattress felt like heaven—soft and welcoming, almost like it had been waiting for him to return. Every muscle in his body ached, but it was the good kind of ache—the kind that made him feel like he'd actually accomplished something. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, half-joking to himself about proposing to the bed for the comfort it offered.

From the corner of the room, he could hear Pikachu and the others messing around. He didn't have to look to know they were poking at Spearow, who was probably just as worn out from the day's activities as he was. The sound of Spearow's indignant squawks confirmed it, and when Austin turned his head slightly, there the bird was—feathers ruffled, looking like a complete mess. Spearow shot him a tired glare that said everything: See what your brilliant ideas get us into?

Austin couldn't help but chuckle. "Hey, I did say if you help, you can have this," he reminded the bird, his voice a little muffled from lying face-first on the bed. With a bit of effort, he reached over to the nightstand where he'd placed something special earlier. His fingers brushed against the cool surface of the Boulder Badge, and he pulled it out, placing it gently on the floor in front of Spearow.

The other Pokémon instantly gathered around, their eyes wide as they looked from the badge to Austin, then back to the badge again. It was like they couldn't believe he was actually giving it to Spearow.

"Come on, the grumpy bird earned it," he said with a grin, pushing himself up slightly on his elbows to get a better view. Honestly, it felt right. Spearow had worked hard, and the plan was always to train him into a strong physical attacker. The Boulder Badge was perfect for boosting those capabilities.

He watched as Spearow cautiously approached the badge, his eyes flicking between Austin and the shiny object on the floor. The curiosity in his gaze was unmistakable, and when he finally touched the badge with his beak, Austin couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. A soft, grayish aura started to wrap around Spearow, like a mist. The transformation was subtle, but Austin noticed it. Spearow's posture straightened, his feathers slicked back into a sleeker, more aerodynamic form, and his eyes gleamed with a new kind of energy—a strength that hadn't been there before.

The other Pokémon, though, looked a little disappointed. Austin could see it in their eyes, the quiet expectation that maybe they'd get something too. He didn't want to leave them hanging, so he reached into his bag and pulled out Flint's TM. "Let's get some new moves," he announced, watching their spirits lift instantly. Excitement sparked in their eyes as he recalled each one into their Pokéballs and placed them in the TM cube.

The cube hummed to life, a soft glow filling the space around him. He'd always been fascinated by how TMs worked—the way they could store memories of moves, almost like code, crafted by psychic types. The idea that a Pokémon could learn something entirely new, unlocking hidden potential by just... downloading it? It was like witnessing a small miracle every time.

When the cube finally quieted, signaling that the transfer was complete, Austin's curiosity got the better of him. He pulled out his Pokédex and immediately checked to see what new moves his team had learned.

Rattata had learned Hidden Power: Dark. Pikachu received Hidden Power: Grass, which was pretty cool, but then he looked at Vee's results and stopped. Hidden Power: Normal. That was weird. Hidden Power: Normal wasn't something you'd typically see in the games. Something didn't add up.

He decided to experiment. Vee into Flareon, then prompted him to use Hidden Power. To his surprise, the move shifted—now it was Hidden Power: Fire. His mind raced. He had to test it further. He watched Vee become a Vaporeon, and sure enough, Hidden Power changed again—this time to Hidden Power: Water. Then, it became Hidden Power: Electric when Vee evolved into Jolteon.

What the hell? Hidden Power was adapting to each evolution. This wasn't how it worked in the games, and Austin's mind started spinning with theories. Could it be linked to the elemental affinity of each Eeveelution? Was there something about how the move interacted with the transformation process?

He was just starting to piece together some thoughts when his stomach growled, loud enough to break his concentration. It was almost comical. Here he was, uncovering something that could be a huge breakthrough, and his body was reminding him of more pressing matters.

"Let's eat fast so we can eat again!" he said to no one in particular, a grin spreading across his face.

Food first, theories later.

----------------------------------------

As Austin sat alone in the cafeteria, staring down at the simple breakfast of eggs and toast, the food seemed less appealing by the minute. His fork hovered over the plate, poking at the food absentmindedly. The radio hummed in the background, the morning news blending into the noise around him, but his ears perked up at every mention of Mt. Moon. He was hoping—praying—for any news about Team Rocket.

The likelihood of running into them at Mt. Moon felt all but certain. Ash had run into them there in the anime, and in the games, it was their first major appearance. It wasn't just a possibility—it was a pattern. They always seemed to show up in the same places, and that consistency made him uneasy. It gnawed at him, twisting his gut into knots. He pushed his eggs around the plate again, barely tasting them as his mind spiraled.

He glanced at the map spread out beside his plate, his finger tracing the routes. Mt. Moon wasn't just a single mountain; it was a whole range, a natural barrier between Pewter City and Cerulean City. The tunnels were originally built for trade, offering a two-day journey through the mountain—much easier than the grueling two-week trek over the mountainous terrain.

The idea of avoiding Team Rocket had crossed his mind more than once, but every time it did, his grip on the fork tightened, the metal bending slightly under the pressure. He couldn't shake the image of Pikachu and Vee getting caught up in a Team Rocket attack—hurt or worse, taken. His chest tightened, and a bead of sweat ran down his temple. His heart was racing, his mind replaying worst-case scenarios over and over.

"No," he muttered to himself, shaking his head fiercely. That wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to let it.

For five days, he'd been preparing. He'd won a dozen battles, prepped enough meals to last them two weeks, and spent hours training for rock climbing. He wasn't just mentally ready—he was physically prepared. He had done everything he could, but the lingering doubt wouldn't go away.

Taking a deep breath, he folded the map and tucked it into his backpack. He tossed the remnants of his breakfast into the trash and slung the bag over his shoulder. It was time for Plan A.

Plan A was simple: place a fake emergency call to the Pokémon Rangers' office and direct them to Mt. Moon. Let them deal with Team Rocket. That was their job, right?

He'd already scouted out a phone booth, one tucked away from any prying cameras. Even though the location seemed safe, he wasn't about to take any chances. He pulled a mask over his face as he approached the booth. The booth itself looked ancient, its once-bright blue paint faded to a dull, chipped teal. The thick, yellowed glass panels made the inside feel cramped, almost claustrophobic, and the musty smell clung to the air like dust.

Steadying himself with a deep breath, he stepped inside. The space was even smaller than he'd imagined, just enough room to stand. His hand shook as he dialed the number for the Pewter City Rangers. Before he spoke, he clenched his fist and struck himself hard enough across the face to make his nose bleed. He needed to make this sound as real as possible.

"Hello, is this the rangers... please help?" he spoke into the receiver, pinching his nose to make his voice sound more nasal, more distressed.

"Sir, what's wrong?" came the immediate response from the operator, concern lacing her voice.

"I was walking at Mt. Moon when some Pokémon thieves attacked me. I was barely able to make it out alive; those people are crazy," he said, letting his voice shake. He needed this to work.

"When did this happen?"

"An hour ago. I barely made it to safety on my trusty Rapidash."

There was a pause, and then, "Is this a prank?"

Austin's stomach dropped. "No," he said, trying to sound confused.

The operator's voice turned stern. "Sir, I highly advise you not to joke about this. We have a 24-hour patrol on Mt. Moon. Either you're lying, or something happened to the ranger patrol, and I assure you, we check in with the rangers every hour for updates."

Before he could respond, the line went dead.

He placed the receiver back on its cradle carefully, his heart pounding. What the hell? Was he wrong about all of this? Had he been paranoid this entire time?

Austin stepped out of the booth into the cool morning air, still holding his nose, which was now dripping blood into the mask. His mind was racing. Maybe Team Rocket wasn't at Mt. Moon after all. Maybe they were still looking for Vee in Viridian Forest. Doubt crept in, and he paused to consider his options. Should I just take the normal route through Mt. Moon with the rangers' protection? Or should I stick to my original plan and trek around the mountain, avoiding any potential danger?

His gut twisted with indecision. He'd planned so much, prepared so hard, but nothing could prepare him for the uncertainty gnawing at the edges of his mind.

----------------------------------------

As the evening draped its cool shadows over the rugged contours of the mountain, Austin felt a rare sense of tranquility settle over him. The air was crisp and refreshing after the relentless climb that had taken up most of the day. Beside him, Pikachu trotted with an alertness that made Austin smile, his ears twitching at every rustle and snap in the dense underbrush.

Strapped to Austin's side, a thermos hung loosely. Inside, Vee swirled in his serene water form as Vaporeon. They had figured out that staying in one form was less painful for him, and having Vaporeon in a liquid state could be a lifesaver if they ran into dangerous wild Pokémon or—Arceus forbid—Team Rocket.

Beside the rough trail, Misty's bike was parked, modified with rugged tires for the uneven terrain.

The sun dipped lower, painting the sky with strokes of orange and purple. Austin found a high vantage point and pulled the bike up beside him, standing there as the valleys and peaks stretched out beneath him like a living map. In the distance, the faint lights of a town twinkled like stars on the horizon, a reminder that civilization was never too far away, even out here.

He let out a deep breath, taking in the stillness of the moment, the quiet that was almost meditative. But that peace was shattered by the distant clatter of battle and shouts carried on the wind. His heart tightened. Instinctively, his hand went to his binoculars, trembling slightly as adrenaline surged through him. Peering through the lenses, he focused on a rocky edge where flickers of fire lit up the shadows, and figures moved—black and red uniforms. Team Rocket.

"Ranger patrol my ass," Austin muttered, his voice low and filled with disgust. They were here, and from the looks of it, whatever they were up to, it couldn't be good.

He adjusted the focus, his pulse quickening as the scene came into view. Down there, amidst the chaos, were Jimmy and the Onix trainer—the one he'd lost to—struggling against a couple of pokemon. His stomach dropped. Shit.

"Let's help them," he said, more to convince himself than Pikachu, who was looking up at him, confusion written all over his face.

"Pi?" Pikachu's little head tilted, not quite understanding why Austin was suddenly so determined.

"I want to interrogate one of the grunts to find out their positions," Austin explained, trying to sound confident, like this was a solid plan and not something he'd just come up with on the fly.

Pikachu shot him a look that clearly said, Really?

"Yes," Austin insisted, even though he wasn't entirely sure himself. He pointed toward Jimmy's location, where the battle was raging. Pikachu struck a heroic pose, mimicking some action movie protagonist they'd watched last night. Austin couldn't help but grin despite everything.

"I shouldn't have taught you how to do charades," he said, shaking his head. Pikachu was a goofball, but Austin loved him for it. It was the kind of distraction he needed from the gravity of what they were about to do.

"Pika," Pikachu responded, grinning up at him, his eyes bright with mischief.

"Whatever, bravery isn't just stupidly trying to do something without a plan," Austin retorted, trying to keep his voice steady, even though his heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. The rush of adrenaline was almost overwhelming, mixing with a cold, gnawing fear that he tried to shove down.

Pikachu's ears perked up, his body tense and ready. He looked up at Austin, a silent question in his gaze: What's the plan?

Austin took a deep breath, his mind racing. He had to think this through. They couldn't just rush in blindly. If they were going to do this, they had to be smart about it. He looked at the terrain, the positions of the grunts, and where Jimmy and the Onix trainer were holding their ground. Ideas began to form, strategies piecing together in his head.

"Okay," Austin said, his voice firming up.

----------------------------------------

Jimmy felt the cold, hard reality of despair as he leaned against the rocky mountain path, his options dwindling to grim extremes: a plummet to certain death below or recapture by Team Rocket. His breaths came in sharp, labored gasps, each one tasting of dust.

"Don't give up, young man."

Jimmy nodded, resolve hardening in his chest as he prepared for what might be their final stand. The battlefield was starkly uneven: his Poliwrath and the trainer's Onix were pitted against Team Rocket's lineup—Rhyhorn, Raticate, Ekans, and Zubat. The odds were overwhelming, the situation dire. Hope seemed a luxury they could ill afford.

Just as despair threatened to take hold completely, a blur in the sky caught Jimmy's eye.

"What?" he exclaimed in disbelief as a Pikachu riding a Spearow sliced through the air.

As the Spearow swooped lower, Pikachu launched itself from the bird's back. It was a comet of electric fury; as it descended, Pikachu unleashed a powerful burst of electricity. Bolts of lightning, bright and ruthless, arced from the electric Pokémon, striking Raticate, Ekans, and Zubat with deadly precision. The assault was swift, the execution flawless, leaving the three Pokémon twitching and incapacitated on the rocky terrain.

Rhyhorn looked around in confusion, its teammates fallen. It was not prepared for Pikachu's next move. The electric Pokémon gathered energy, a glowing orb forming above its head. With a mighty heave, it threw the orb to the ground where it exploded into a wave of greenish, grass-like energy.

"Hidden Power: Grass," Jimmy whispered to himself. Rhyhorn collapsed with a heavy thud, defeated.

Pikachu landed deftly on the ground before Jimmy and the older trainer, its small chest heaving from exertion. For a brief moment, Jimmy caught the fierce, proud glint in Pikachu's eyes.

Before Jimmy could even muster a breath to thank Pikachu for the daring rescue, a chilling voice cut sharply through the mountain air, freezing everyone in their tracks.

"What do we have here?"

The tone was as cold as the winds that whipped through the rocky pass. Everyone's eyes shifted to see Team Rocket's Executive, Arianna, stepping confidently from the shadowed tunnel, a Vileplume by her side. The Pokémon was a sight, its massive red flower bobbing menacingly as it walked, its beady eyes scanning the group with hostile intent.

Pikachu sparked threateningly at the sight of the newcomer, his small body tensed for another round of battle.

"Petal Blizzard!" Arianna commanded, her voice devoid of emotion, as if the destructive power she unleashed was nothing more than routine. In an instant, Vileplume became the epicenter of a swirling storm, pink petals whipping into a furious tornado that hurtled toward the electric type.

Reacting swiftly, Pikachu unleashed a Thunder Shock, which quickly intensified into a Thunderbolt—an attempt to counter the incoming assault. But physics betrayed the small mouse. The dense flurry of petals, acting almost like insulators, absorbed and dispersed the electrical energy with frightening efficiency. The petal storm engulfed Pikachu, the sharp edges of the hardened petals slashing across his body, cutting into him with the precision of knives. Blood marked his yellow fur, small cuts blooming like cruel red flowers as he staggered, overwhelmed by the relentless attack.

"Spearow!"

Just then, a crackling voice erupted from the walkie-talkie attached to Spearow's side.

"Hidden Power: Fire!" The command was swift, urgent.

Reacting swiftly, Spearow unleashed an orb of light that exploded into a searing wave of fire, crafting a fiery barrier between the injured Pikachu and the advancing Arianna. With a strategic use of Aerial Ace, the duo vanished into the thin air.

Meanwhile, Jimmy, the older trainer, and their Pokémon were caught off guard. Vileplume didn't hesitate, releasing a cloud of Sleep Powder that cascaded over them like a gentle blanket. Within seconds, their bodies slumped against the cold, hard rock floor, succumbing to an enforced slumber.

Arianna watched the fleeing figures. Those were TM moves, trained Pokémon, huh? The red-haired woman then turned her gaze towards the mountain range, her eyes narrowing calculatingly as she contemplated what to do next.

Where are you going to hide from little old me?

----------------------------------------

Austin gripped the binoculars so tight that his hands trembled uncontrollably. It wasn't just the chill of the night air causing it—the fear was clawing at him, making his heart race. The Team Rocket executive wasn't some distant threat anymore. She was here. It felt suffocating, like he was breathing through a straw, every inhale shallow and strained.

But fear quickly gave way to something else, something darker. Anger. No, not just anger. Rage. It bubbled up from a place deep inside, flooding his senses, drowning out any rational thought. This wasn't just fury—it was a white-hot, seething rage. He could barely think straight, the edges of his vision blurring as that primal thirst for revenge took hold. That bitch had hurt his buddy. The image of Pikachu getting hurt flashed through his mind, fanning the flames, making the fire inside him burn hotter with every passing second.

"Reon." Vee's soft but urgent voice broke through the haze, yanking him back from the brink. He fumbled for the walkie-talkie strapped to his side, his fingers clumsy and uncooperative, shaking with the rage that still thrummed through him like an electric current.

"Spearow, don't fly towards us," he managed, his voice tight, almost cracking. "They'll know our location. Hide in that... lake. I'm coming down."

He turned to look at Vee, their eyes meeting, and what he saw there pierced through his anger, just for a moment. Fear. He could see it in the way Vee's ears drooped, in the slight quiver of his stance. Vee was scared. Scared for him, for them, for everything.

"Don't worry," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, trying to push the rage down, but he could still feel it, like a drum pounding in his chest, echoing in his ears, threatening to drown out everything else. "I've already made plans B, C, and D in case we fought Team Rocket."

He hoped he sounded convincing, because his heart felt like it was going to explode. Each beat sent another wave of anger crashing through him, reminding him of what they'd done. Of what she'd done.

He forced himself to take a breath, then another, trying to focus. He had to be clear-headed, for Vee, for Pikachu, for all of them. This wasn't just about him. It couldn't be. He had to think, had to strategize, had to be one step ahead of them.

But all he could think about was that bitch's face. And how much he wanted to make her pay.

Focus, Austin, he told himself, shaking his head slightly as if he could dislodge the anger, push it back to where it wouldn't cloud his judgment. Plans B, C, and D. He had plans. They had options. He wasn't going to let her win. He wasn't going to let them hurt his friends again.

----------------------------------------

Arianna's lips curled into a sly smile as she watched the Spearow make a reckless dive toward the secluded body of water nestled in the mountain's embrace. That little bird thought it was clever, didn't it? A watering hole, of all places—right in the heart of rock-type territory. Not exactly a bird's natural sanctuary.

Didn't want to go back to your trainer? she mused. Or is that watering hole where your trainer's hiding?

She kept her gaze fixed on the bird's descent, her mind running through the possibilities. She reached for her Pokéball, her fingers curling around the smooth surface, the act second nature after so many battles. With a flick of her wrist, the familiar snap of release echoed through the air.

The light faded, revealing Honchkrow, her dark-blue avian powerhouse. His plumage radiated authority, like a mob boss surveying his underlings, the large feather crest atop his head reminiscent of a fedora, a fitting crown for a king of the skies. His sharp red eyes cut through the terrain below, the hunter in him already scanning for prey.

"Hunt your prey," she commanded, her voice cold and precise. A quick snap of her fingers sent him into motion, her red hair whipping in the mountain wind as she watched him ascend.

Honchkrow soared into the sky, powerful wings slicing through the air with deadly grace. He circled the watering hole, his presence both awe-inspiring and terrifying. There was no escaping his gaze; he missed nothing.

Or so she thought.

Arianna's eyes narrowed as she tracked Honchkrow's movements, watching him widen his search, circling the area like a predator stalking prey that seemed to have simply disappeared.

Where the hell was that Spearow?

Minutes passed, but nothing. Not a single sign of life. Honchkrow's search came up empty, and he returned to her, his failure reflected in the quiet flap of his wings.

Damn it.

Still, she didn't let her composure slip. She never did. Her face remained calm, unreadable. Inside, though, the gears were turning. The trainer—whoever they were—had outplayed her this round. But that was all this was: a single round. The game was far from over.

As Honchkrow landed at her side, she looked toward the horizon, already calculating her next move. Hide all you want, kid. She would find them. And when she did, there wouldn't be a rock or a watering hole left for them to run to.

This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

Meanwhile, concealed in the shadows just below the surface of the water, camouflaged perfectly beneath a rocky ledge, a pair of eyes watched silently.

The evening darkness crept over the mountain, and Austin felt a chill run down his spine as the night closed in. A tiny bubble surfaced at the edge of the lake with a soft pop, breaking the eerie stillness. His grip tightened on the two Pokéballs in his hands, so hard that his fingers had gone numb. He glanced down and saw the white of his knuckles, the tension in his forearms making his muscles burn.

At least Vee and he were closer to the lake than Arianna. That was their advantage. It wasn't much, but it was enough. He had made it here on his bike just in time. Spearow had appeared right on cue, and he didn't waste a second. He recalled both Pikachu and Spearow with a quick flick of his wrist, their Pokéballs snapping shut with a satisfying click. They were safe now.

He didn't hesitate—he dove into the lake, plunging into the cold, clear water. The shock of it hit him hard, but he couldn't afford to stop. Vee was quick, using his water manipulation to form a protective bubble around his head, giving him precious air to breathe. It was surreal, like being in his own little world beneath the surface, hidden from everything above. His heart pounded, but he felt a strange calm too—like he had become invisible.

Emerging from the water, he felt the weight of his soaked clothes dragging him down. Every movement was harder, slower, but he pushed through it. He spotted Vee darting off to retrieve his bike, the little Pokémon's body a blur as he zipped across the ground. The cold clung to him, but he couldn't focus on that right now. He had to stay sharp. Stay in control.

As the last bits of daylight slipped away, the sky faded into deep purples and oranges—a strange kind of beauty amidst the danger. Austin paused for a second, trying to catch his breath and take it all in. His muscles were screaming, but there was no time to rest yet. He scanned the area, looking for any sign of Arianna or her goons.

Then, he saw it. A large rock formation, almost like it had been placed there for them. The boulders were staggered in a way that created a natural alcove, hidden from view. Moss and shrubs covered it, blending it perfectly into the surroundings. It was the kind of luck that only happens in stories.

Thank you, protagonist luck. This is perfect, he thought, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

He spread out a blanket he had packed, making a small resting area. It wasn't much, but it would do for now. He released Spearow from his Pokéball. The little bird appeared tired, ruffled, but not seriously hurt. A bit of potion, some water, and rest—that's all he needed.

When Austin turned his attention to Pikachu, his heart sank like a stone. The sight of the small body, crisscrossed with deep cuts that were still bleeding, hit him like a punch to the gut. The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air. He gently pressed his palm against the worst of the injuries, trying to assess the damage, but the warmth and wetness of Pikachu's blood against his skin sent a surge of emotions crashing through him.

"Eevee," Vee's voice cut through the tense silence, snapping him out of his shock. Austin shook his head, trying to clear the fog of panic.

Hands trembling, he meticulously cleaned each of Pikachu's wounds, using alcohol to disinfect them. He knew it would've been agonizing if Pikachu were conscious, and the thought made his eyes sting with unshed tears. He sniffled quietly, trying to keep it together, but seeing Pikachu like this—so vulnerable, so hurt—was tearing him apart. Struggling to steady his voice, he whispered to him, even though Pikachu couldn't hear him. "Hang in there, buddy. I've got you."

Once he was sure the cuts were clean, Austin sprayed a healing potion over them, watching the liquid soak into Pikachu's fur, the faint glow signaling it was working. He crushed some Lum Berries into a paste and gently applied it to the deeper cuts, hoping their healing properties would help speed up the recovery.

He pressed his hands against each wound, trying to stem the bleeding. His hands were still shaking, but he forced himself to keep going. Pikachu needed him. He couldn't afford to mess this up.

Finally, he wrapped the last of the bandages around Pikachu, his movements careful and deliberate. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions churning inside him. The cool mountain air filled his lungs, steadying his nerves.

Thank God I took Nurse Joy's first aid courses. His paranoia had pushed him to learn whatever he could to protect himself and his Pokémon. Now, it was paying off when it mattered most.

Austin reached out and gently scratched Eevee's fur collar, the familiar texture grounding him. The tender gesture was as much for his own comfort as it was for Vee's. The Evolution Pokémon looked up at him, his eyes reflecting the exhaustion of the day. He had given everything—from using Helping Hand to power up Pikachu, maintaining his Vaporeon form, and now standing watch over them.

"Rest up, buddy," Austin said softly.

Vee shook his head slightly, refusing to relax. Austin could see the fear in his eyes, the uncertainty that lingered there. The fear that maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't make it out of this.

"Don't worry, night is going to come soon. We'll hide, and then Team Rocket is going to pay for this," he declared, the venom in his voice surprising even him. Vee took a small step back, startled by the intensity in Austin's tone. His reaction made Austin pause. Was he losing himself to this rage?

"Do you not want to face Team Rocket?" he asked, his voice harder than he intended.

Vee shook his head, and Austin saw the flicker of doubt, the fear of what might happen. The fear that they might die.

"How long are you going to remain in fear?" Austin pressed, his voice rising, harsh and accusing. "How long are you going to run and hide?" He stared down at Vee, feeling the weight of his own words crushing down on him. Vee was shivering, and that made Austin's heart skip a beat. The tremors running through his small, loyal body were subtle but unmistakable, a clear sign of the fear he was trying so hard to hide.

Austin knelt down, his hand hovering over Vee's trembling form, hesitating. He was pushing him, maybe too hard. His words to Vee, though meant to motivate, were also a vent for his own frustrations, his own fears.

He wanted to fight back. Not just for Pikachu, but for all of them. He wanted to tear those bastards apart, to make them pay for what they'd done. It wasn't logical, maybe not even safe, but he couldn't stand the thought of just running away, of letting them get away with this.

Vee hesitated, Austin's words resonating with him. Austin could see it in his eyes. Vee, too, had found a family, a home worth fighting for after escaping those monsters. His gaze met Austin's, filled with a complex mix of fear, determination, and trust.

He placed his paw on Austin's foot, a small but powerful gesture, his eyes locked onto Austin's. His look was one of pure resolve, as if to say, What's the next plan? The simple, unwavering trust in his gaze broke through Austin's momentary doubt, reinforcing their shared desire for revenge.

Austin knelt down, bringing his face closer to Vee's, whispering fiercely, "Let's destroy Team Rocket."

----------------------------------------

Under the cloak of night, a Team Rocket grunt patrolled the dense, shadowy forest, his flashlight casting eerie shadows among the twisted trees. The beam jittered across the underbrush as he trudged forward, his boots squelching softly in the moist earth. Suddenly, his foot splashed into a puddle, the sound sharp in the quiet of the night.

A rustling noise from the bushes startled him, and he swung his flashlight toward the disturbance. A Rattata, its eyes glinting in the artificial light, darted into the undergrowth. Before he could recover from the surprise, another sound whipped his attention around to see a more unsettling sight—a boy wearing a paper bag over his head, standing ominously a few feet away.

The grunt screamed, stumbling backward in panic, his feet slipping as he scrambled to regain his footing inside the puddle.

Did it get bigger?

In his frantic state, he reached for his Pokéball, but before he could react further, the puddle beneath him seemed to explode. The surface tension popped dramatically, and suddenly he was plunging neck-deep into a newly formed sinkhole. The water around him churned violently, pulling him downward. Terror paralyzed him as the icy water's grip rendered him unable to move, swirling and tugging at his limbs with horrifying force.

Above him, the paper-bag-wearing boy loomed, a taser gun pointed directly at the grunt's trembling Team Rocket comrades.

"Can't move in these treacherous waters, can you?" Bag Boy began, his voice unnervingly calm. "Let me paint a picture for your soon-to-be-overwhelmed mind. When I point this taser at your drenched and vulnerable form, do you know what will happen? The electric current will find its eager path through the water, invading your body with ruthless efficiency. It will surge through your nervous system, seize control of your muscles, and dance perilously close to your heart. Tell me—what will you feel in those final moments? Fear? Anger? Or perhaps the exquisite agony of pain?"

"Please, spare me—I have a sick mother to take care of!" the grunt begged, his words tumbling out in a frantic, breathless rush. Fear flickered in his wide eyes, raw and palpable, as his body trembled uncontrollably while the cold water lapped against his chin.

"As long as you do what I tell you," Austin replied coolly.

"Anything," the grunt gasped.

"Good. Now tell me, how much of Mt. Moon and its ranges have been captured by Team Rocket?"

"We have seized the trail and the border on the backside," the grunt replied, his voice shaking.

"How many executives are currently on Mt. Moon?"

"Only one," he managed to say between ragged breaths.

"Good. What have you done with the rangers and any of the trainers coming here?" Austin continued, his questions precise, each one like a knife cutting through the grunt's resolve.

"They have been captured, put into cages while their Pokémon were collected. Some grunts are impersonating the rangers to trick the Rangers' office," the grunt revealed, his words heavy with the gravity of what he'd admitted.

Austin wasn't surprised they had fooled the Rangers' office; what caught him off guard was their apparent leniency.

"Not killed?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his tone.

"Team Rocket has a no-kill rule," the grunt stammered.

"Bullshit," Austin spat, remembering the cold murder of the Beedrill by Sird. He pressed the taser harder against the grunt's skin. "Tell me the truth."

"I am telling you the truth! This was the one rule beaten into the mind of every grunt: you must not kill another human," the grunt replied, tears welling in his eyes as his body trembled.

Austin paused, processing the information. Giovanni isn't benevolent enough to institute a no-kill rule without reason, he thought. Then it clicked—the kind of trouble Giovanni would avoid at all costs would be the Elite Four and the Champion. The escalation to murder would surely draw their attention, forcing the Pokémon League to act with far more direct measures when human life was on the line.

"Last question," Austin said, his voice soft but menacing. "What Pokémon do you have?"

"An Ekans and a Zubat."

"Good... No, great even. I was looking for a Zubat," Austin said, eyeing the grunt warily.

"Are you going to steal my Pokémon?"

Pot calling the kettle black? Austin retorted, pulling out his Pokédex and activating the recorder function. "Now, you're going to do a simple recording for your Pokémon, telling them that I'm someone who can be trusted and your friend."

"Why?" the grunt asked, his fear mounting again.

"Do you need more reasons?" Austin pressed the taser closer. After a few reluctant attempts, the grunt complied, and Austin was satisfied with the recording.

"Are you going to let me go?"

"Of course, I'm going to let you go, and you can fly off to Wonderland with Peter Pan," Austin replied sarcastically, confusing the grunt further. "No, I'm going to beat you unconscious, then strip you of your clothes and pretend to be you as I eliminate Team Rocket from this entire place."

"W-what?" the grunt stammered, just as Austin took a step to the side, revealing Rattata poised, her iron tail glowing.

In that moment, the grunt realized he had been the prey from the start.

"Fuck," was his final thought before Rattata's iron tail swung forward, sending him into the dark void of unconsciousness.

----------------------------------------

Austin let out a long sigh as he gazed up at the night sky. Team Rocket had turned Mt. Moon into a fortress of danger; it was a death trap for the uninitiated. At times like these, his extensive knowledge of Pokémon, his so-called "Fountain of Useless Knowledge," really came in handy.

He was just a kid when he played Pokémon Red, his first dive into the world of Pokémon. It had sparked an obsession, a thirst for every shred of trivia about this universe. His brother used to tease him for it, but who was laughing now?

The entrance to Mt. Moon loomed ahead, a menacing maw in the mountainside, surrounded by jagged rocks reaching up like claws to the heavens. Sparse tufts of tough grass clung to the soil at the rocky base.

Austin spotted Pokémon rangers at the entrance. Or more accurately, Team Rocket grunts in a poor disguise. One had an Arcanine by his side, looking like he smelled something vile.

They really must want Vee back, he thought, noticing a flicker of confusion on the nearest grunt's face.

And why wouldn't they be confused? There he was, draped in a bedsheet that dragged along the dirt. It was ridiculous, really. Underneath, he was on makeshift stilts made of Rattata and Spearow—who he had bribed with belly rubs and chia seeds to agree to this. He even threw on a Team Rocket uniform over his clothes to look bigger, older.

Austin knew this disguise was terrible.

But it didn't have to be perfect—it just had to get him into the mountain.

So, how was he going to pull this off? Simple. He'd spew bullshit—with all the confidence of a politician.

That was Plan A.

If it failed, Plan A2 was ready to go: attack and dash straight into the mountain's depths.

'Please, Arceus, let Plan A work,' he thought. He'd rather not have Team Rocket know that he was here.

"Why is your Pokémon out?" the grunt demanded, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes as he stared at the Zubat circling Austin. Its distinguishing large fangs suggested it was male—a detail Austin noted absently as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

"Safety," Austin responded, trying to deepen his voice to a convincing grunt, hoping it masked the rapid thumping in his chest as he edged closer to the group.

"And the bedsheet?"

"I fell down," he said, adopting a casual shrug that belied the mounting panic inside. "Into something... unpleasant."

"What?" The grunt's confusion was almost comical.

"Well, Executive Arianna issued an order to capture Pikachu and Spearow," Austin started. "And while I was chasing them, I kinda accidentally fell into a pile of feces." He lifted his sleeve, still carrying the pungent odor of his desperate ploy.

The grunt recoiled instantly, the authenticity of the smell doing more to convince him than any words could. Inside, Austin was cringing at the lengths he'd gone to for this plan.

"And the mask?" the grunt questioned further, skepticism still lining his features.

"Smell," Austin replied sharply, with no hesitation.

"Right..." the grunt dragged out the word, glancing back at his comrades who merely shrugged, apparently satisfied with Austin's explanations. They relaxed slightly, and Austin felt a fleeting sense of relief.

"Ahum... what are you doing here and who is your leader?"

Austin paused for a heartbeat, then fished an ID card from his pocket, flashing it briefly. "I completed Mrs. Arianna's mission," he said plainly, injecting a touch of weariness into his voice as if he'd just returned from a long, taxing assignment.

"Oh," murmured the rest of the grunts.

Seizing the moment, Austin pressed down with his feet, signaling Rattata and Spearow to start moving.

The other grunts exchanged quick, uncertain frowns but chose not to press further. They knew the hierarchy within Team Rocket well enough. If this grunt had indeed completed a mission for an executive like Arianna, a promotion might be in the works. It was best not to antagonize someone who could potentially rise in the ranks.

'Balance, balance, balance,' Austin thought, focusing hard on maintaining his awkward gait. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the grunts speaking into a handie talkie. A surge of panic washed over him.

Did I get caught?

But he couldn't let that thought derail him. Whether he was caught or not, he had to keep moving. Austin pressed on, entering the gaping maw of Mt. Moon. The entrance was as foreboding as ever—a dark, jagged tunnel burrowing deep into the heart of the mountain. Shadows clung to the uneven walls, and a cool, musty air wafted out.

Now onto plan B, Austin thought grimly as he stepped deeper into the darkness. Whatever lay ahead, he was ready—or at least, he had to believe he was.

Austin was acutely aware of the labyrinthine nature of Mt. Moon's tunnels. There was the main trail, open to the public, and then there were the natural tunnels—veins that branched off into expansive cave systems, homes to various Pokémon colonies. Pokémon rangers typically kept the uninitiated from straying into these areas.

The dangers were real; stumbling into a Pokémon colony could be fatal if hundreds decided you were a threat.

The public tunnels, where most trainers dared to tread, were lit by electric lanterns that cast long, eerie shadows against the rough stone walls. It was here that Team Rocket carried out their nefarious activities. Their operation was simple: fake rangers stationed outside would greet trainers warmly, then relay information to other Team Rocket members hidden inside who would ambush the unsuspecting trainers.

But Austin's path lay through the natural tunnels. These uncharted routes were key to his plan to navigate through Mt. Moon and execute his revenge. And that's where Zubat came in—its echolocation was perfect for navigating the dark, unoccupied passages.

With a deep breath, he continued his cautious advance. He wondered if Team Rocket was after the Clefairy tribe in Mt. Moon at this moment. Would I encounter Jessie and James here?

However, his thoughts were abruptly cut short. His steps halted as his eyes landed on a startling sight—a destroyed red convertible. It was unmistakably Gary's. His heart skipped a beat.

"Oh no!"

Before he could fully process this unnerving discovery, a voice cut through the silence of the tunnel. He froze, every muscle tensing.

"Hey there, buddy."

The voice spun Austin around quicker than a Rapidash in a race. There before him was an older Team Rocket member, sauntering towards him with a confidence that made his skin crawl. He was in his late 30s, sporting a disarming smile that somehow didn't quite reach his eyes, which seemed to size him up and dismiss him all in the same glance.

Beneath the oversized bedsheet, Austin could feel Spearow and Rattata shifting nervously. The small movements caused him to sway slightly under his weight.

"I just want to talk," the man said, his voice smooth, almost rehearsed.

"What?"

"No need to be so antagonistic," the man replied, his smile unwavering. "I heard from a couple of friends that you finished that bitch's mission."

His choice of words caught the boy off guard, but he masked his reaction.

"Get to it."

"Well, I was thinking about how we can split the rewards, and in return, I can get you in contact with the other captains," he proposed, his smile now slick and calculating.

"Are you alone? Better yet, why should I do that?" Austin's voice held a hint of suspicion, mirroring the tension that gripped his body. Was this some kind of tactic? That grunt at the entrance... Could this be a test? Was he found out? Are Team Rocket after him?

"Of course, just you and me, buddy. I think you should listen to me," the man said, his tone dipping into a threatening register as he casually flipped a Pokéball in his hand, revealing a glimpse of a sleeping Rhydon through its translucent surface.

So, this guy was the link in this chain. The grunt's message at the entrance must have been directed at his Team Rocket captain, informing him that someone had completed Arianna's mission.

Now all this asshole needs is to take the credit for someone else's hard work and easily get into an executive's good graces and maybe get a promotion.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Sure," Austin replied, understanding the thinly veiled threat. The Team Rocket captain's smile widened, thinking he had him cornered, but little did he know, Austin had his own ace up his sleeve. As the man's attention momentarily drifted to scan their surroundings, Austin reached into his backpack with feigned casualness.

He pulled out a thermos, fingers brushing against the cool metal.

"What's that?"

"It's where I hide the Pokéballs for the Pokémon the executive was looking for," Austin said, managing to keep his face expressionless despite the adrenaline rushing through him.

"Smart," the man commented, though Austin could see the confusion in his eyes as he peered into the thermos and saw nothing but water.

"What—" he began, but he didn't get to finish his question. Austin seized the moment and splashed the water right in his face.

In an instant, the water seemed almost sentient, clinging to his features, creeping into his mouth and nostrils like a suffocating mask.

The man sputtered and choked, his hands clawing at his face in a desperate attempt to clear the invasive liquid. Austin watched, almost detached, as panic flared briefly in his eyes.

As the man managed a ragged gasp for air, Austin didn't hesitate. His hand found the taser gun hidden in his pocket, and he pressed it against the soaked shirt, activating it. A harsh buzz filled the air as electricity surged through him. His body jerked wildly, muscles contracting beyond his control. With a final convulsive shudder, he collapsed onto the damp tunnel floor, limbs still twitching from the shock.

As he lay there, incapacitated, the water began to move again. This time, however, it moved with purpose and coherence, shimmering as it solidified into the form of a Vaporeon.

Austin's heart pounded fiercely against his ribs, a wild drum echoing the rush of adrenaline surging through his veins. His hands trembled uncontrollably, the aftermath of the high stakes confrontation causing his fingers to quiver like leaves in a storm.

"Night night," Austin whispered, more to steady his own nerves than for the man's benefit. He raised his foot and brought it down sharply, ensuring the man wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

Austin wasted no time after the confrontation; he swiftly tore off the dirty bedsheet, shaking it out as he leaped away. Underneath, Spearow and Rattata quickly stretched their limbs. "Good job, you two. Take a good rest before we get our rematch against that woman." Spearow opened his beak to squawk but Austin swiftly returned him to his Pokéball.

Rattata began her charade—her tiny paws flailing wildly as she mimicked a shocked and outraged expression. She hunched her back dramatically, then spun around in a comical display of indignation. Pretending to puff up her chest, she marched back and forth with exaggerated huffs, clearly imitating Spearow's likely reaction to being returned prematurely. "He can use that anger against Arianna." Rattata nodded at that.

After a moment, Austin returned her as well, her tiny body disappearing into the flash of red light. "Come on, help me drag this guy," he directed at Vaporeon. Together, they hauled the unconscious Team Rocket member behind a small cave, effectively hiding him from any prying eyes that might wander off the main path.

Austin quickly stripped the man of his high-quality Team Rocket uniform, methodically collecting his Pokéballs and any other valuables, stuffing them into his backpack with a satisfying rustle. To the victor go the spoils.

Once he had taken everything of value, he turned his attention to a Zubat that hovered uncertainly nearby. "Remember, these people have captured your beloved trainer, so let's hurry up and save him," he told the Zubat. The blind Pokémon bobbed in the air.

The small Pokémon's sonar was remarkably effective, allowing Austin to detect and sneak up on lone Team Rocket grunts.

----------------------------------------

It had been days, Amanda guessed... she didn't even know how many since they were captured. Each day blended into the next in a haze of misery and despair inside the dimly lit, makeshift jail at the back of what used to be a Ranger's storage room in Mt. Moon. Now, it was nothing more than a dungeon, commandeered by Team Rocket and converted into a grim holding cell for them—trainers who had been unlucky enough to cross their path.

The room was always dim, the only light provided by a flickering bulb that hung from the ceiling, casting long shadows that seemed to dance on the walls. The cages they were kept in were crude constructions of rusting iron bars, each one a small, personal hell that held two or three of them.

Every day was a battle against the overwhelming hunger and thirst that gnawed at them. Their captors, if they remembered, threw in scraps of food—more often bones than bread—and sometimes water that was more mud than liquid. They were all losing weight, their faces becoming gaunter by the day, their eyes hollow from hunger and the constant fear.

Gary Oak was in the worst state. He was feverish now, his body unable to fight off illness due to malnutrition and dehydration. They tried to take care of him as best they could, tearing pieces of their already threadbare clothing to fan him, trying to offer some relief from the fever that wracked his body.

The cruelty of their captors was relentless. The tall grunt with sharp features and a cruel smile was the worst. She enjoyed their suffering, taunting them with food she ate in front of them, her laughter echoing off the cold stone walls, making Amanda's skin crawl.

"Enjoy the ambiance, why don't ya?"

Amanda tried not to lose hope, but it was hard. The endless days of suffering, the pain of seeing her friends in such dire states, the constant humiliation—all of it was almost too much to bear.

But then, today, something changed.

"Who is it?" she barked sharply at the soft knock on the door.

"I have some orders from Executive Arianna for the prisoners," came a reply from the other side.

The voice was muffled.

At the mention of Arianna, a wave of fear and anxiety swept through the prisoners. Whispers filled the air, and the clinking of flesh against metal became louder as they shifted uneasily, some letting out muffled screams, their eyes wide with tears.

"Shut up!" the grunt snapped, annoyed by the noise. She stomped over to the door, her keys jangling loudly at her belt as she moved.

"Finally, are we going to go back? Is she going to announce the winner?" the grunt asked as she swung the door open, not prepared for what was about to happen.

There was a loud crash, and suddenly, the grunt was on the ground, unconscious. All the prisoners gasped, their hearts pounding with a mix of shock and sudden, fragile hope. They craned their necks, trying to see their rescuer through the bars of their cages.

There, in the doorway, stood a boy dressed in a standard Team Rocket uniform but with a paper bag over his head. Confidently in front of him, a Rattata stood. Relief washed over Amanda, tinged with disbelief.

Could this really be happening? Were they actually going to be rescued?

"Who are you?" Amanda's voice rang out, strong yet laced with an undercurrent of fear as she instinctively moved to shield Gary and the others.

Austin knelt before the cage, peering through the makeshift holes of his paper bag mask, feeling the intensity of their gazes like physical weights pressing against his skin. He reached into his backpack, the sound of rustling wrappers unnaturally loud in the oppressive silence of the makeshift prison.

As he unwrapped the chocolate bars, he noticed their faces—the gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes that spoke volumes of their ordeal. Holding out the bars, he saw their expressions transform. What seemed to him a small gesture of kindness looked to them like a feast of kings. A simple act of sharing food suddenly felt like bestowing hope.

"Is that for us?" one voice whispered, so laden with hope it made Austin's heart twist uncomfortably.

"Please, just a piece," another pleaded, hands shaking as they reached through the bars. The desperation was palpable, the hunger in their eyes more piercing than the coldness of the bars.

"We're so hungry."

"If you give me just a piece, you can have all my money."

"I have a TM," another voice chimed in, desperation turning to bargaining.

"My uncle owns a small company..."

"You can use my body..." The offers escalated, each more frantic and unsettling than the last. The cacophony of desperate pleas echoed off the walls, a chorus of human misery that seemed to wrap around Austin, tightening like a vice.

Standing there, amidst the chaos of reaching hands and pleading eyes, Austin felt a heaviness settle in his chest.

He was just fifteen—how had he ended up in a place like this?

These were a few adults, people who should have had the answers, the solutions, the means to protect their younger ones, yet here they were, reduced to this state of raw desperation. And among them, startlingly, the majority were kids my age. Children who should have been worrying about their gym badges and not experiencing this.

Seeing them, something shifted inside me. It was one thing to understand hardship as an abstract concept, something that happened in stories or far-off places.

It was entirely different to see it etched on faces that could easily have been in the mirror.

This was no distant tragedy; it was real.

This world... was so real to me.

For a moment, Austin felt a wave of nausea rise up. The reality of their situation, the depth of their despair—it was overwhelming. A part of him wanted to close his eyes, to turn away and pretend he hadn't seen the ugliness of their plight. But another, stronger part pushed that cowardice away.

Some thoughts entered his head.

What if he hadn't come? What if he had let his fear, his desire to remain just a kid playing at adventures, override this moment? What would have happened to these people, to Gary, if he had chosen to remain hidden away?

These thoughts churned through Austin's mind as he looked down at the chocolate in his hands. He couldn't erase their suffering, but he could alleviate it, even if just for a moment.

"Everyone will get some, but you have to behave like humans. No pushing, no stealing. Just wait."

As Austin distributed food and water among the prisoners, a sudden movement snapped him back to alertness.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a bottle hurtling towards him—an unwelcome gift from the grunt attempting an escape.

Rattata appeared in front of him just in time, intercepting the bottle. It was meant as a distraction, and as it tumbled through the air, the contents spilled, soaking the paper bag that was covering Austin's face.

"Sword strike!"

Rattata vanished in a blur, her body a swift streak of movement as she utilized a Quick Attack. She bounced off the walls, closing the distance to the fleeing guard in mere seconds. Just as the grunt's hand touched the door handle, hoping for freedom, Rattata's Iron Tail whipped through the air. It connected squarely with the guard's jaw, her head snapping to the side with such brutal force that it must have rattled her brain, overwhelming her senses. She crumpled to the ground, her body limp, succumbing to unconsciousness almost instantly.

Meanwhile, Austin felt the paper bag on his face starting to disintegrate from the dampness. He held onto the fragments, trying to maintain some semblance of cover as he walked over to the pile of discarded bags nearby. His heart pounded as he sifted through his backpack with hurried movements, pulling out a new paper bag to slip over his head.

The last thing he wanted was for anyone to see his face, to remember it.

Austin's fingers brushed against the coarse fabric of the Silph Co. bag, his curiosity piqued. He unzipped it slowly, revealing an unexpected treasure trove within: a collection of Pokéballs, a wallet, assorted documents, a gym badge case, and a Technical Machine, labeled 'Bide.'

Why haven't these been distributed among the Team Rocket grunts?

Almost without thinking, Austin's hand gravitated toward the TM. He turned it over in his hands, the bold label glaring up at him as a whisper echoed in his head: Take it, this could help us.

He froze, the weight of the decision anchoring his feet to the dusty floor. Raised with a clear moral compass that stealing was wrong, Austin found himself at a crossroads.

You are going against an Executive; that TM and that Boulder badge can increase our chances of winning.

His brow furrowed, the internal conflict evident on his face. Part of him, sharpened by survival instincts and recent ordeals, saw the practicality in taking the TM—it was about survival, not petty theft. Yet, the core of his upbringing, the essence of the boy who had grown up in a normal, ethical household, recoiled at the idea. He wasn't a thief; he was merely a fifteen-year-old caught in extraordinary circumstances.

Rattata, sensing his hesitation, placed a comforting paw on his leg.

Her eyes met his.

Do it for your Pokémon.

Austin closed his eyes briefly, letting the gravity of the situation settle on his shoulders.

Am I just being greedy? Or am I being pragmatic? he questioned himself, feeling the TM's weight grow in his grip.

"You can have that."

Startled, Austin looked up to find a prisoner gesturing toward him. Though she couldn't see his face clearly, the outline of the TM was unmistakable in his hands.

"What did you say?" His voice cracked slightly, reverting to its natural, youthful timbre—a slip that caused a few prisoners to gasp in surprise.

"You can have that, but you have to give me double the food," the prisoner negotiated, desperation raw in her voice.

Austin surveyed the girl more closely. She was one of many he hadn't managed to give much food to, owing to the abrupt chaos of the attack. The desperation in her voice, her plea for something as fundamental as food, struck a deep chord within him.

Suddenly, offers from other prisoners began to pour in; the din in the dimly lit space grew louder, more desperate.

"You can have my TM for Rain Dance."

"You can have my Cerulean Badge."

"You can have my money."

The voices piled on, as in this moment, food was far more precious than any currency or item.

Taking advantage of these people is wrong, his conscience nagged relentlessly.

Yet, the opportunity laid bare before him was incredibly tempting. As each new offer was shouted over the clang of metal and murmur of hope, he could feel his plans shifting, adapting to the resources being thrown his way.

"Rattata..."

The small Pokémon squeaked, sensing the turmoil swirling within him. Looking at his little lady, Austin found his answer.

"Don't—"

Austin cut off the voice of his own inner consciousness harshly. He knew exploiting these desperate souls was wrong, but if it meant bolstering their chances against Team Rocket, he was willing to make that morally ambiguous choice.

Silently, he unzipped his backpack, revealing the two weeks of meal prep he had meticulously planned. Without a word—he didn't trust his voice in that moment—he began to distribute the food. He avoided the eyes of the prisoners as they devoured their portions, their actions driven by a primal fear that it might be snatched away.

As he watched them eat, he surveyed the trove of items he had acquired from their desperate trades: 30K Pokédollars, 20 spare Pokéballs, ten Boulder Badges, three Cerulean Badges, a Moon Stone, Leftovers, and a Sharp Beak. The collection also included six TMs—Bide, Water Pulse, Rain Dance, Whirlwind, Bubble Beam, and Flash.

"This tofu is rubbery," someone commented offhandedly, pointing at the food.

"Hey, I worked really hard on that tofu," Austin retorted.

The prisoners stared at him, and the weight of the moment settled uncomfortably around them.

A flush of embarrassment warmed his face under the paper bag mask.

"Little lady, you want to try my tofu?"

Rattata just stared back at him, unblinking, and then slowly shook her head. Her simple gesture broke the tension, and a ripple of giggles spread through the crowd, relaxing the atmosphere.

Despite the laughter, a part of him remained uneasy. Had he made the right choices?

"What are you, some kind of hero?" Amanda's voice brought him back to the present.

"Nah, just some guy who was wronged by these villains and wants revenge," Austin responded with a shrug.

The prisoners looked on.

"I am curious," Austin said, gesturing toward the pile of bags. "Why didn't they take your loot?"

One of the prisoners, an older man likely one of the rangers, glanced at the pile before answering, his voice thick with bitterness. "The Executive was using our stuff as prizes for whoever could catch... I don't know, they called it 'Project Evolution.'"

Austin nodded, processing the new information. "Where are your Pokémon?"

"Snatched, and apparently stashed in the executive's pad. They're supposed to be some kind of gnarly gift for the Big Boss," Amanda replied, her voice laced with bitterness.

"How do you know this?"

"She was all, like, bragging about it," Amanda said, nodding toward the still unconscious grunt.

"Listen, I know you've all been through hell," Austin began. "You've been captured, stripped of your belongings, and your Pokémon taken from you. But I'm here to ask, do you want to get revenge on those who caused you this pain? Do you want to stand up and fight back against Team Rocket?"

Murmurs filled the air, mixed with nods and hesitant looks.

"Why should we fight back?"

Austin met their gaze squarely, his voice growing stronger.

"They took our freedom, they took our dignity, and they took our family."

"But we are weak."

"If you can't punch, kick. If you can't kick, bite. If you can't bite, then crawl," Austin proclaimed, his voice escalating into a scream. "Crawl not for yourself, but for your Pokémon... Crawl for your family!"

A murmur swept through the crowd, the seed of resolve taking root.

"I am scared," whispered another prisoner, her voice a fragile thread of sound in the dense air.

Austin stopped in his tracks, turning to face them directly. "How many of you felt fear when you first entered a Pokémon battle? When your Pokémon got hurt? When you froze? To feel fear is to feel alive, but we overcame that fear!"

"We are trainers, are we not?" he challenged.

The prisoners nodded, some more eagerly than others.

"We are fighters, are we not?" Austin continued, his voice growing louder.

Again, the prisoners nodded, their movements firmer, their voices beginning to find strength.

"So rise and fight!" Austin exclaimed, throwing his fist into the air.

"Fight!"

"Fight," the prisoners echoed, initially soft and uncertain.

"Fight!" Austin repeated, his command more forceful, more insistent.

"Fight!"

This time, the shout from the prisoners was unified, their fists raised in apparent solidarity.

Yet beneath this was all just a facade filled with an undercurrent of individual fears and hidden agendas.

----------------------------------------

The darkness of the Mt. Moon tunnels was suffocating, each ranger post a lonely outpost in the labyrinth of rock and shadows. In one such post, Arianna had finally found a moment of restless sleep on a battered old sofa. Her body ached, exhaustion seeping into her bones after days of orchestrating Team Rocket's operations in this godforsaken place. But even in sleep, she was never free.

The nightmare struck without warning, like it always did. His screams echoed through her mind, piercing and desperate. Her son's voice—raw with terror—ripped through the darkness, and her world shattered all over again. Her heart pounded wildly, each beat echoing the sound of his cries, his pleas for help that she had never been able to answer.

She jolted awake, her eyes snapping open as she sat up, gasping for breath. The room around her blurred for a moment, the ticking of the clock the only thing tethering her to reality. Her ears rang with the phantom echoes of his voice, the cries that haunted her even now, two years after that day.

God, how long had it been since she'd heard him? Since she'd seen his smile, held him close? And yet, his voice was still so clear, so vivid in her mind, like he was right here, trapped in this never-ending nightmare with her.

She pressed her palms against her ears, as if she could block out the memory, as if she could silence the screams that had carved themselves into her soul. But it was futile. The sound of his fear, his pain—it was etched into every fiber of her being, an unending punishment for her failure.

Why did she keep doing this to herself? Why did she keep replaying that moment over and over again, knowing it would tear her apart each time? But she couldn't stop. She didn't want to. Because it was all she had left of him—the fear, the pain, the guilt. It was her penance, her reminder of the price she'd paid for her helplessness, for her not being strong enough.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to ground herself. The room came back into focus—the maps still pinned haphazardly on the walls, the old ranger equipment scattered around. The ticking of the clock was a steady, monotonous beat, a stark contrast to the loud bangs of her heart.

She dragged a hand through her hair, slick with sweat, and forced herself to stand.

I don't have time for this.

There was a mystery trainer out there, slipping through their grasp, and she couldn't let her personal ghosts get in the way. She had to stay focused, keep pushing forward, even if it felt like she was unraveling from the inside.

As she closed her eyes, the ticking clock morphed into the steady beat of a distant drum. She pondered whether Giovanni would be pleased with her efforts.

Giovanni... she sighed internally. Would he smile like he used to, or has that part of him vanished forever?

The ticking of the clock grew louder.

Guess he truly did change on that day when Silver disappeared, Arianna clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.

Arianna's heart pounded as the unexpected call of an Eevee pierced the silent air.

Is my mind playing tricks on me?

Then, a voice called out, "I have your Eevee right here, come and get us."

Adrenaline surged through Arianna as she leaped over the sofa, rushing outside. There on the dirt road, a figure with a paper bag over his head sat nonchalantly on a bike, an Eevee perched in the basket. Without hesitation, the Eevee transformed into a Vaporeon, launching a powerful Water Pulse at Arianna.

Dodging swiftly, Arianna watched as the attack shattered the wooden frame of the door, splinters flying through the air. Her eyes narrowed as she threw out a Pokéball, releasing a serpentine Pokémon that resembled a cobra, its hood flared and eyes narrowed menacingly.

"Sludge Bomb!"

Arbok obeyed instantly, spewing globs of sludge from its mouth in a deadly arc toward the boy. But he was quick, pedaling furiously away. In mid-flight, Vaporeon evolved again, this time into a Flareon. The fiery Pokémon unleashed a barrage of embers, intercepting the sludge mid-air.

The poisonous attack met the fiery embers, resulting in a spectacular explosion that lit up the area with a brief, intense burst of light and sound. Arianna couldn't help but grin.

Now she had the chance to finally end this stupid mission.

"Let's go, Arbok!"

Arianna sprinted after the boy, her loyal Arbok slithering swiftly beside her. The chase was on, and Arianna felt alive with the thrill of the hunt.

The boy had a plan, but she didn't care. She would kill him and take Eevee as her prize.

Never bet against Arianna.

As soon as the red-haired psycho and her slithering Pokémon vanished into the tunnel, a group of trainers peeked from their hiding spots.

"Is it safe to go in?"

"Totally, I think," Amanda replied.

The group quickly sprinted into the lounge, where several briefcases lay open with Pokéballs waiting inside. Relief washed over everyone as they reunited with their Pokémon, noticing that, thankfully, Team Rocket had been feeding them.

"Guess they didn't want to damage the merchandise," Amanda muttered, her eyes scanning the room as she fetched Gary's Pokéballs. "Okay, let's go help our hero!" Amanda turned, rallying the group with a cheer.

Her smile faltered, however, as she noticed the hesitation among the group, even among her own friends.

"What's the 411?" she asked, grabbing Jessica's hand as she adjusted the unconscious Gary on her back.

Jessica turned to face her friend with a grim expression.

"I'm heading towards Pewter; it's better to get the Rangers involved," one of the older men, a Pokémon Ranger, announced firmly. His voice was steady, resolute, like he'd already made up his mind.

Amanda's heart sank.

"You can't be serious. What about the plan?"

"What about it?" he shot back, stepping in front of her, towering over her as if she were a little girl again, helpless. "Last time I checked, that woman is on the same level as an Ace Trainer. None of us can hope to overcome her."

His words hit like a slap. He was supposed to be one of the good guys, someone who'd stand up and fight for what was right. But here he was, backing down, leaving their savior to fend for himself.

"Sir," one of the younger rangers piped up, grabbing his superior by the arm. His voice was hesitant, like he knew he was stepping out of line, but there was something stronger underneath. Something Amanda could respect. "I think it's the right thing to go help the hero."

She sighed in relief. At least someone still had a sense of justice around here.

But the older ranger shook his head, his face hard. "Do we sacrifice ourselves for some... thief who was so happy to take our money and items? We are pawns in his plan, and I'm not going to take that risk."

Amanda's stomach churned as murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. They were actually buying into this cowardice, convincing themselves that walking away was the right thing to do. One after another, she heard them justifying it, trying to sound reasonable.

"He already took my stuff, so..."

"I practically repaid my debt with those TMs."

"Sucks to be him."

She wanted to scream. How could they be so blind? So selfish? This wasn't just about him stealing a few items. That boy had risked his life to lead Arianna away so they could save their Pokémon and themselves. Now they were abandoning him like it was nothing.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. The plan was simple: he would distract Arianna, they would sneak in, retrieve their Pokémon, and then they'd gang up on her together. But now everyone was backing out, leaving him to face one of Team Rocket's strongest members alone.

Amanda couldn't take it anymore. She felt a fire rising in her chest, something fierce and unrelenting. "Well, I'm going to go help him. Who's with me?"

She looked around, hoping for solidarity, for someone—anyone—to step up. But most of them just turned their backs and walked out without a word, their faces hardened with indifference. Cowards. All of them.

Only a few of the younger trainers and three rangers stayed behind, standing awkwardly in the silence. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Amanda clenched her fists, feeling the weight of their betrayal. Fine. If she had to do this with only a handful of people, then so be it. She'd do whatever it took. Because unlike them, she wasn't going to leave someone to die just to save her own skin.

"Let's not waste any time; we need to help him," Jimmy urged, and before Amanda could even fully process it, they were sprinting.

Her heart pounded in her chest, not just from the run, but from the uncertainty gnawing at her. This was it—no turning back now. They had a plan, they had a purpose. Or so she thought.

As they neared the exit of Mt. Moon, the harsh reality hit like a punch to the gut. Several Team Rocket grunts were already there, blocking their path. There was no sign of their so-called hero, no Arianna, no showdown like she had imagined.

For a second, confusion overwhelmed her. Then it clicked. He had expected this. He knew, didn't he? That not all of them would follow the plan. That some would abandon him to save themselves.

Was this all part of his strategy? Had he led them into this fight while he took on Arianna alone, somewhere only he knew about?

It made sense. The group escaping would run straight into the Team Rocket grunts stationed at the entrance, while the few of them who had decided to follow Bag Boy's plan were now face-to-face with more grunts blocking the exit. All of this left him alone, isolated, exactly where he wanted to be—to confront Arianna and exact his revenge.

She swallowed hard, shaking off the doubts as best she could. This wasn't the time to wallow in questions. The grunts were right in front of them, and they had to act. She reached for Gary's Pokéball, her hand moving automatically as she released his Growlithe into the fray.

"Let's go!"

----------------------------------------

Arianna stood at the entrance of the tunnel, staring into the pitch-black abyss ahead. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something more feral—wild Pokémon nests. Her fingers brushed against her earbud, and she tapped it, her voice steady, commanding.

"Seal off the entrances to Mt. Moon."

The response crackled almost immediately through the earbud. "Ma'am, we have a problem. The prisoners are trying to escape."

Her attention snapped to the faint flicker of blue light deep within the tunnel—a signal that something was evolving. A smirk pulled at her lips. "Mean Look!"

Her Arbok responded in an instant, the darkened face-like pattern on its hood glowing menacingly. Arianna watched with satisfaction as the Eevee inside the tunnel froze, caught in her Pokémon's gaze, unable to flee.

"Did you free the prisoners?" she called out into the darkness, her voice echoing in the cavernous space.

"Of course," a voice emerged from the shadows, rough and strained, as if it took effort just to speak.

She laughed, the sound echoing eerily off the tunnel walls. "So, what? Your plan was to send in help from the outside?"

"That was plan B," the voice responded, followed by a harsh cough. "I was hoping that plan A worked."

"And what's plan A?" she asked, her interest piqued despite herself.

"Simple. The others would come in and help me fight you."

Arianna couldn't help but laugh again. "Sad. It didn't happen."

"Not really. I'm just glad I get this 1 v 1."

She felt a spark of excitement. This was new. Bold, even. "I like you," she said, her eyes narrowing as she tried to pinpoint his location. "Why don't you join Team Rocket under me?"

"Interesting," he replied, his voice closer now. "What do I need to do?"

"Simple," she purred, her heart thrumming with a dark thrill. "Bring me that Eevee."

"Can I put in a special condition?" he countered, his tone teasing, almost playful.

"Sure," she said, amused. This was too intriguing to shut down.

"I'll give you a hint. It involves you, a maid outfit, and the floor of my apartment," ," he said, and for a split second, her mind went blank. Did he just—?

"Wow, no one has the audacity to speak to me like that," she mused aloud, a smile creeping back onto her face despite the absurdity of his demand. She couldn't remember the last time someone surprised her like this.

"You're right, sorry, maybe that was too much to ask. After all ... you really don't look smart enough to figure out how to use a mop," Austin quipped as he stepped forward, Vee evolving into a Jolteon. The bright light of evolution briefly illuminated his paper bag-covered face.

She felt a flare of anger, her excitement turning into a sharp, biting rage. "Oh, I am going to enjoy this," she snarled, releasing her entire team in one fluid motion. Vileplume, Arbok, Honchkrow—they materialized around her, their presence bolstering her resolve.

"Wow, this is going to be easier than I thought," he said with a smirk, and she could feel the fury bubbling up inside her. How dare he mock her? Her, the head executive of Team Rocket!

"Big bark coming from the loser that ran and hid from me," she spat back, her words dripping with venom.

"Well, in my defense, I was running from a villain," he responded casually, and for a moment, she was caught off guard. A villain? Was that what he saw her as?

"A villain?" she echoed, genuinely puzzled. She tried to understand why he treated this like some kind of game. Why was he so confident, so calm?

"You know, you are a villain alright," he said, his tone casual, almost bored. "Just not a supervillain."

She felt her jaw clench. "What's the difference?"

He paused, and then with that damn smirk, he said one word that hit her harder than any attack.

"Presentation."

At that instant, Pikachu used Flash, flooding the tunnel with a blinding light. As Arianna's eyes struggled to adjust, she saw Austin's prepared battleground: Spearow, Rattata, Zubat, Pikachu, and Eevee strategically positioned atop fire extinguishers and near the walls, suggesting that Austin had meticulously planned for this encounter.

The boy had dozens of Pokéballs laid out in front of him. At his command, Zubat let out a piercing screech, a signal that awakened a colony of Zubats nested on the ceiling of the tunnel. Disturbed by the call of danger, the Zubats began a frenzied escape, but there was only one route out—the tunnel where Arianna stood.

Reacting quickly, the Pokémon under Austin's command squeezed the handles of the fire extinguishers, releasing a dense cloud of foam. The mist filled the entrance, creating an impenetrable fog just as hundreds of Zubats and Crobat rushed toward the exit. Caught in the chaos, Arianna found herself practically blinded.

Arianna's voice cut through the chaos, "Petal Blizzard!"

In response, Vileplume twirled gracefully, a tornado of pink petals swirling around its body. The petals expanded outward, creating a shield that blocked and repelled the incoming swarm of Zubats. Some crashed into the barrier while others swerved away, their echolocation squeals piercing the misty air.

Just then, the leader of the bat Pokémon—a large, menacing Golbat with deep blue coloring and wide, poison-dripping fangs—dived towards them. Its eyes, narrowed to slits, targeted Arianna with Poison Fang! Before the Golbat could strike, her Honchkrow intervened, its body gleaming with a metallic sheen.

Steel Wing!

Honchkrow's wing struck the Golbat, sending it spiraling back into the foggy tumult.

At that moment, a flurry of Pokéballs flew through the air, bursting open to reveal a motley crew of Pokémon: Sandshrews, Rhyhorns, Rhydon, Raticates, Ekans, and more Zubats. Arianna clicked her tongue in realization. The boy must have defeated the majority of her grunts, commandeering their Pokéballs and now deploying the stolen Pokémon in this chaotic melee.

"Dark Pulse! Dragon Tail! Sleep Powder!" Arianna yelled out her commands. Honchkrow unleashed a beam of pulsating dark rings that soared towards the airborne Pokémon, knocking them back with its force. Arbok's tail glowed with a greenish energy, whipping through the air to slam a Rhydon to the ground with brutal force as the rock Pokémon responded with a Drill Run.

Meanwhile, Vileplume spun elegantly, releasing a cloud of greenish Sleep Powder that drifted through the battle zone. The weaker Pokémon, caught in the cloud, stumbled and fell into a deep sleep, momentarily removed from the fray.

The battle raged for what felt like hours, though it lasted only about a minute. From the chaotic foam, a blur darted out, Honchkrow swooping in with a swift Aerial Ace. The collision resounded like a thunderclap through the tunnel, sending numerous Pokémon sprawling in its wake, knocked out or critically injured. Amidst the melee, Arianna watched in disbelief as her Honchkrow was physically halted by a Spearow.

How? Arianna muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she observed Spearow's muscles bulge out, enveloped by a greyish aura. With an unexpected display of strength, the smaller bird threw Honchkrow back into the mist. Even though Honchkrow was exhausted, being overpowered by a Spearow was baffling.

How was that possible?

Her thoughts were interrupted as Arbok lunged forward, moving like a true snake. Its body coiled swiftly around Spearow, tightening its grip before sinking its fangs deep into the bird, delivering a potent Poison Fang.

"Spear!" came a shout as the flying type slammed the snake against the wall. Arianna's jaw dropped when she saw that aura flare again around Spearow, and it clicked—the boy had used multiple Boulder Badges to permanently increase Spearow's physical prowess.

"Acid!"

Vileplume responded by hurling a glob of acid toward the struggling bird and snake. Just as the attack was about to hit, something shot from the mist, intercepting the acid with its body. There, standing between the wrestling duo and Arianna and Vileplume, was a Rattata, but something was off. Her fur was singed from the acid, emitting a burning smell, and suddenly a fire-like aura ring pulsed around her.

Arianna realized that the purple rat was suffering from a Burn status, but how? And more puzzling, why did this Pokémon look like it had been hit by several moves?

Her question was immediately answered as a reddish aura enveloped the Pokémon. As Rattata's Guts ability activated, boosting its strength despite the searing pain from its burn, the little Pokémon readied itself for a powerful Bide. Gathering all the damage it had received, Rattata's body was outlined in a vibrant crimson glow. After a tense moment, it unleashed a crimson beam, directed straight at Arianna.

Arianna's eyes widened in shock as she watched the attack hurtle towards her. Reacting quickly, Vileplume sprang into action, positioning itself between Arianna and the incoming beam. With a graceful twirl, Vileplume summoned a Petal Blizzard. The clash between the swirling petals and the crimson beam was intense. The air around them vibrated with energy as the petals tried to dissipate the beam's power.

Rat-ta-ta!

Vileplume, already exhausted, struggled to maintain the integrity of its floral shield. Slowly, the beam began to break through, tearing petals away and diminishing the shield's strength. With a final, desperate effort, Vileplume threw its body in front of the beam, acting as a living shield to protect its trainer. The beam hit Vileplume full force, causing the Pokémon to shudder under the impact.

The sound of the beam's impact was like the crack of thunder, echoing through the tunnel. Vileplume's body absorbed the energy, its form quivering as it took the brunt of the attack.

Boom!

As the smoke dissipated, Vileplume slumped forward, visibly weakened and panting heavily. Burn marks and singed petals covered its body. Vileplume had managed to protect Arianna, but the cost was clear. The Pokémon was severely injured, barely able to stand, its energy sapped.

Where is Honchkrow?!

Just moments before, as Honchkrow had been flung back into the cave by a powerful blow, the ceiling above had opened up, releasing a steady rain that began to drum against the rocky ground. The rhythmic tapping of the rainwater muted the sounds of the ongoing battle, creating an almost surreal atmosphere amidst the chaos. Honchkrow, grounded and looking upward, saw the dark clouds pouring down and felt a surge of frustration. The Rain Dance, expertly executed by Austin's team, had immobilized it, grounding the once-mighty flying-type and preventing its escape.

"Thundershock!" Austin's voice rang out, a gleam in his eyes as he pointed forward. Pikachu and Jolteon responded without hesitation, their bodies crackling with a fierce charge of static electricity, their fur standing on end as the accumulated energy surged within them.

Honchkrow, sensing the impending danger, knew it couldn't take to the skies. In a desperate move, it stabbed its steel wings deep into the ground, hoping to redirect or at least mitigate the electrical surge headed its way. But Austin, thinking ahead, had planned something far more devastating.

He wasn't aiming directly at Honchkrow.

Instead, Austin's eyes shifted to the row of fire extinguishers near the cave entrance, stolen earlier from the ranger posts. Positioned right next to where Honchkrow had grounded itself, they were a perfect conduit for the electric attack. He gave the silent command, and in a synchronized display of power, Pikachu and Jolteon unleashed their electric fury. Bolts of electricity shot through the air, crackling like deadly snakes, and struck the metal canisters.

The electric charges caused the contents of the extinguishers to heat rapidly, the pressure inside building to an unsustainable level. Austin watched, his heart racing, as the tension mounted. In mere seconds, the pressure peaked, and the canisters exploded with a deafening roar. The concussive blast tore through the narrow cave, amplifying the force as the shockwave reverberated against the rocky walls.

Honchkrow, trapped by its wings buried in the ground and too close to the blast, couldn't escape. The full force of the explosion hit it like a freight train, sending its body crashing against the cave wall with a brutal thud. The impact was merciless, and the once-commanding presence of the dark bird Pokémon crumpled to the ground in a daze.

Honchkrow's form was a wreck. Singed feathers clung desperately to its body, now covered in welts and burns from the fiery explosion. Its breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale a clear indication of its pain. Its wings lay twisted and broken beneath it, charred and bleeding, leaving it unable to even stand, let alone fight back.

The cave fell silent for a moment, the only sound the soft patter of rain outside. Austin stood still, watching the aftermath of the explosion, knowing that he had taken a significant step in the battle.

"Sword Strike!"

Pikachu leapt towards the barely standing Vileplume.

The impact was monumental—Vileplume was literally smashed into the ground with such force that it created a crack in the rocky floor of the tunnel, sending small shards of stone scattering.

Meanwhile, Jolteon unleashed a Thundershock, its crackling energy bolts stunning Arbok. Seizing the moment, Spearow and Rattata coordinated their attack, both delivering the move Assurance. The double dark-type attack was too much for the weakened Arbok, which collapsed under the assault.

Throughout her time in the criminal underworld, Arianna thought she'd seen it all—battles, betrayals, raw displays of power that could make the bravest men cower. She'd become numb to fear, convinced that nothing could shake her anymore.

But now, as she watched her Pokémon fall one after another, a cold, visceral fear gripped her. It was the kind of fear that clawed at her throat, paralyzing her, making her heart pound so violently it felt like it might burst out of her chest.

She had felt this fear only twice before—once in the presence of Giovanni, his calm, commanding demeanor masking a ruthlessness that could destroy anyone who crossed him. The second time was in front of the masked man, his gaze like ice, stripping her bare of any defenses she thought she had. And now, here it was again, brought on by a boy—a mere boy—who stood against her with such terrifying resolve.

She wanted to run, to get away from the crushing weight of her own helplessness, but she barely turned before the boy's Pikachu struck her. The Thundershock hit like a thousand needles piercing her skin at once. Her muscles seized up, and she crashed to the ground, her limbs splayed awkwardly as the voltage coursed through her. The pain was searing, relentless. She couldn't breathe, her chest felt like it was on fire, and her vision blurred as agony engulfed her senses.

Arianna tried to move, to fight back, but her body refused to listen. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him dragging a fire extinguisher behind him, the grating sound of metal scraping against stone echoing ominously through the tunnel. Panic surged through her, raw and instinctual. He was coming closer, each step deliberate, the extinguisher swinging in his hand.

For a split second, she thought, This is it. This is how I die.

The thought was absurd, and yet so real.

He raised the extinguisher, and she saw it in his eyes—anger, satisfaction, but not the cold, dead look of a killer. He was furious, yes, but he wasn't going to kill her. Or was he?

The words were on the tip of her tongue—a plea, a threat—she didn't know what she wanted to say. But before anything could escape her lips, he swung the extinguisher down. It struck her face with brutal force, and the pain exploded in her skull, blinding and all-consuming. Her world spiraled out of control, the agony swallowing every thought, every sensation, until all that existed was the searing pain ripping through her.

She couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

There was only the excruciating fire radiating through her entire being. But it didn't stop. He didn't stop. He brought the extinguisher down again and again. She could feel her bones crack under the relentless blows, her flesh tearing, each impact more savage than the last.

Arianna wanted to scream, to beg, to curse him, but she couldn't even make a sound. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words, no cries came out. Just the raw, choking taste of blood and dust. Her vision blurred and darkened, the world around her shrinking to nothing but the unbearable, merciless pain.

This can't be happening. Not like this. Not to me.

But it was. He kept hitting her, each strike driving her deeper into the abyss. She could feel her strength slipping away, her consciousness unraveling as her body broke under his assault.

Is this how I die?

Then, in the haze of agony, she heard it.

"Pika!"

The sound cut through the fog, sharp and clear, a desperate cry from his Pikachu. The boy stopped, his hand frozen mid-swing, the extinguisher inches from her shattered face. He stood there, panting, his eyes wild and conflicted, rage and fear warring in them.

The Pokémon around him were watching, their eyes pleading, almost accusing, as if they couldn't believe what he was doing, what he was becoming. And for a moment, she saw it too—the horror of what he was about to do. She was at his mercy, completely broken and helpless, and it scared him.

The extinguisher slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground beside her head. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, the pain still radiating through her, but the blows had stopped. She was still alive.

Barely.

You stopped, boy. Why did you stop?

She wanted to laugh, but it hurt too much. He was strong enough to break her, but not enough to finish what he started. Weak. Pathetic. He couldn't even follow through.

You should have killed me when you had the chance, she thought, the rage simmering beneath the surface of her shattered consciousness. Because if she ever got up again, if she ever drew breath after this, she'd make him pay.

No mercy shown will be no mercy given. He spared her now, but this wasn't over. Not by a long shot. He would regret this day for the rest of his short, miserable life. Because she would make sure of it.

----------------------------------------

Brock sat outside the Pewter City Gym, enjoying a rare moment of solitude. It felt good to be alone sometimes, away from the noise, the constant pressure of being a Gym Leader, and the expectations everyone had of him. The evening air was cool, and the quiet wrapped around him like a blanket. He popped open a can of iced tea, the crisp sound cutting through the stillness. For a brief second, he let himself relax.

Then, the peace shattered. A police siren blared, sharp and urgent, making him jump. Red and blue lights flashed in the distance, and he tensed. Something was wrong. Officer Jenny pulled up in her car, the door flung open as she stepped out, breathless.

"Brock, an attack on Mt. Moon," she announced, her words hitting him like a punch.

"What?" he barely managed to say before another voice echoed his surprise. He turned and saw Flint—his dad—stepping out from behind some bushes. What the hell? Was he spying on me?

His brow furrowed in confusion, and he wasn't the only one. Officer Jenny's jaw practically hit the floor.

"Flint? Is that you?!" she asked, disbelief clear in her voice.

"Y-yeah," Flint replied with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head like this was all just some funny coincidence.

"I thought you were dead," Jenny blurted out, shock still evident. Brock clenched his fists, biting back the flood of emotions that stirred inside him at her words. Dead. His father might as well have been.

But that wasn't important right now. Focus, Brock.

"What about Mt. Moon?" he cut in, his voice hard, forcing himself to push aside the confusion, the anger, all of it. There was no time for family drama. "What's happening?"

"I'll tell you all the details in the car," Jenny said, urgency in her voice. "But we need to be there. Now."

He didn't hesitate. He was already moving, sliding into the passenger seat before she even finished her sentence. "Drive," he ordered, settling in, his mind already racing ahead to the worst-case scenarios. He heard her hesitate for a moment, and he knew why. She was torn, her eyes flicking between him and Flint. The tension between them was palpable. Flint was back, but Brock didn't care. Not right now.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts, though they kept circling back to his father. The man who had abandoned them. Under any other circumstance, he'd want nothing to do with him. He hadn't spoken to Flint since he disappeared, since he left Brock to take care of their family. But this wasn't about him. The people at Mt. Moon needed help. The city needed reassurance. And no matter how much it grated on him, they needed every capable trainer.

"Get in," Brock said, the words bitter on his tongue, but he forced them out anyway. For the greater good, he reminded himself. This isn't about you, Brock.

Flint's face lit up, like he didn't realize the gravity of the situation. Or maybe he was just happy Brock didn't tell him to screw off. Whatever. Brock couldn't think about that right now.

Flint climbed into the back seat, and Brock felt a wave of anger rise up again, but he shoved it down. There would be time for that later. If they both made it out of this.

"Well then, Flint, enjoy the ride," Jenny said, her tone light but firm as she slammed her foot on the gas. The car roared forward, and they sped off toward Mt. Moon. Brock glanced out the window, his thoughts already drifting to what awaited them there.

In just a few minutes, the car pulled up at the base of Mt. Moon. The scene was chaos. Reporters swarmed like a pack of Spearow, their microphones thrust forward like spears, bombarding the arriving police officers and Pokémon Rangers with questions. The area was a whirlwind of activity—medical teams rushing victims to ambulances, injured Pokémon being escorted to safety, and officers coordinating the whole effort like it was some kind of battlefield.

As Officer Jenny's car approached, she punched the horn, the blare cutting through the noise like Lugia parting the sea. The reporters scattered, but only just enough to give them room to park. As soon as Brock stepped out of the car, the onslaught hit him.

"Brock, what can you tell us about the attack?"

"Is it true that wild Pokémon are involved?"

"Is it true that a gang of thieves were involved?"

"We heard something about a vigilante, what can you tell us about them?"

"How many are injured?"

"What is the response of the League in all of this?"

Their questions came at him from all directions, and Brock could feel the weight of the attention bearing down. He ignored the media, pushing his way toward the police line. There were more important things to deal with right now. The truth was, he didn't have answers yet, and until he did, he wasn't about to feed the media frenzy.

As he neared the line, a familiar voice broke through the commotion. "Brock, good to see you."

He turned and saw Greg, the Superintendent of the Pokémon Rangers. He was as imposing as ever—broad-shouldered, with that commanding presence he carried effortlessly. Before Brock could even greet him, Greg swept him up into a bear hug, lifting him slightly off the ground.

"Good to see you too," Brock managed to say, his words muffled into Greg's shoulder. "But, please put me down before the media spins this into a story about you not taking your job seriously."

Greg laughed, his booming voice cutting through the noise around them. "What, for hugging my nephew?" He set Brock down but kept a firm hand on his shoulder, giving him a good-natured squeeze.

"I wouldn't put it past them," Flint's voice cut through the tension as he walked up to them.

Greg's expression shifted instantly, his gaze darkening at the sight of Flint. Brock could practically feel the temperature drop, so he did the only thing he could think of to prevent a scene—he pinched Greg's arm, just enough to break his focus.

"The media is here," Brock muttered under his breath, hoping to remind Greg of where they were and who was watching.

Greg exhaled deeply, his broad shoulders relaxing a bit as he placed a heavy hand on Flint's shoulder. "After this is over, we will talk, best friendo."

There was a weight to his words, a promise of something more than just catching up

Flint just nodded, then turned toward the reporters, his stance shifting as he prepared to face the crowd. "I'll deal with the media so that you all can focus on this," he offered, his voice steady, almost formal.

Brock couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude wash over him. It was a rare thing for Flint to step up like this, and he could tell Greg felt it too, though he still looked skeptical. Greg leaned in closer, his voice barely a whisper. "Is he the same good-for-nothing father?"

Brock remained silent and watched from a distance as Flint made his way toward the reporters. His mere presence caused a ripple through the crowd, and it didn't take long for someone to recognize him.

"Wait, aren't you the Boulder?" one of them exclaimed, referring to Flint's old nickname, The Boulder of Pewter City.

Flint snorted, slipping effortlessly back into his old persona. "Yes, and the Boulder is back, baby," he declared, his voice booming with the character he used to play for the cameras. It was strange seeing him like this, larger than life, especially after what had just gone down.

"Can you tell us what you've been up to for the last few years?" another reporter asked, her microphone thrust forward eagerly.

For a moment, Flint's smile faltered. Brock could see the hesitation in his eyes as he paused, considering his answer. "The Boulder is conflicted; if he wants to tell you that information."

Brock almost rolled his eyes. Flint was putting on a show, distracting the press from what really mattered here. Greg, standing beside him, leaned in and whispered, "You know, your mother was the one who came up with that nickname."

"I didn't know that," Brock replied absently, his attention shifting as a stretcher was carried past them. His heart dropped when he saw the woman on it. Her red hair was matted and disheveled, her face a mess of bruises and blood. Her nose was broken, jaw misaligned, and several teeth were missing.

"Jenny gave me a bit of a rundown, but what happened in there?" Brock asked, his voice tense as he turned back to Greg.

Greg sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's complicated. We've got consolidated testimonies from the victims and some evidence from inside Mt. Moon, but... it's messy."

Brock tried to process what Greg was saying as he filled him in. His mind raced with each detail shared, particularly about the enigmatic figure at the center of it all—viewed by some as a hero, by others as a monster.

"What about this 'Bag Boy'?" Brock asked, the nickname hanging awkwardly in the air.

"Long gone by the time we got there," Greg said, shaking his head. "We think he's between ten and twelve years old, but given the level of violence and planning, he could be older, maybe suffering from dwarfism."

"That's… a hell of a guess," Brock muttered, still trying to wrap his head around the idea of a kid being behind all this. "What about his Pokémon and skills?"

"We know he had a Rattata, Eevee, and Spearow. There's a chance he had more Pokémon, but he took steps to make sure they weren't seen. From what we've pieced together, he mapped out all of Mt. Moon, executed sneak attacks on most of the grunts, and brutally overpowered the leader of the operation."

Brock froze. "Brutally overpowered?" he repeated, the words sticking in his throat.

Greg nodded grimly. "According to some rangers, the leader was as strong as a gym leader. And this kid took him down."

Brock swallowed hard, the weight of that statement settling in. Team Rocket had always been seen as a bunch of thugs—Pokémon thieves and petty criminals. But if they had someone that powerful in their ranks... it changed everything. His mind flashed to Ash. Could it be? Could he be Bag Boy? It seemed absurd, but the thought lingered for a second. Ash had a Rattata and a Spearow too…

No. Brock shook his head, dismissing the idea. Ash was just a kid, barely starting his journey. It couldn't be him.

"What was Team Rocket's goal here?" he asked, turning his attention back to the more immediate problem.

Greg's expression darkened. "We're still not sure. The captured grunts are too terrified to talk. It's like they're more afraid of Team Rocket than they are of us."

"Gang loyalty?"

"Doubt it. It's something else, something bigger." Greg glanced around, making sure no one was listening. "This 'Bag Boy,' with the way he handled those grunts and the care he showed the prisoners… he was ruthless with the leader. It feels personal, like he's driven by revenge."

Brock's gut twisted at the thought. What kind of kid would be driven by revenge like that? What could have happened to push someone so young to such extremes?

"What's our next move then?" Brock asked, feeling a little lost.

"Officially? Damage control. Unofficially, the Rangers are going to make a few people scapegoats to protect their image. It's not pretty, but that's how these things go."

Brock nodded slowly, the reality of the situation sinking in. "At least the immediate threats are neutralized. The bad guys are in custody, the victims are safe, and the injured Pokémon are being treated."

Greg sighed, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. His fingers lingered on it, but he didn't light one up. "And the media's going to have a field day with the vigilante angle. They love a mysterious hero—or anti-hero, in this case." He shook his head, clearly dreading the inevitable wave of press that would follow. "This paperwork is going to be a nightmare."

Brock couldn't help but agree. Things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated, and he had a feeling they were only going to get worse.

----------------------------------------

[20 Minutes Ago]

Austin slipped out of the tunnels of Mt. Moon just before the authorities arrived, but there was still one last task he needed to complete.

The night air was cool, and the silence felt almost eerie as he navigated the rugged terrain of the Mt. Moon range and arrived at a secluded spot near a giant tree. That's where he had left the man earlier in the evening—bound, distressed, and wearing nothing but his underwear.

"SOMEONE HELP ME!" the man yelled, his voice breaking the quiet night. But the second he saw Austin approaching, he stopped mid-shout and squeezed his eyes shut, pretending to sleep. Like that would work.

"If I don't move, he won't see me," the man muttered, barely audible.

Austin couldn't help but snort. "That only works when a T-Rex is written by Michael Crichton."

The man sighed, realizing his pathetic attempt to hide was futile. Slowly, he opened his eyes and faced Austin, resignation settling in his expression. "Okay then, just do it quickly."

Austin shook his head, crouching down in front of him. "I'm not going to kill you," he reassured him. With deliberate care, he took Zubat's Pokéball from his belt and gently placed it in the man's lap.

"You aren't?" The man looked confused, his brow furrowing in disbelief.

"No. Zubat was willing to do anything I asked to save you. That tells me you're not all bad."

The man's voice softened, and the tension in his body loosened. "Thank you… I'm Christopher."

"Christopher, why are you with Team Rocket?"

He hesitated, then looked away, guilt tugging at his expression. "It's the money... My mother needs surgery, life-saving surgery, and it's expensive. I couldn't find any other way to get enough in time," he admitted, his voice cracking as he spoke. The desperation in his tone was hard to ignore.

"How much more do you need?" Austin asked, already thinking ahead.

"40k total. I've managed to scrape together 25k, but…" His voice trailed off, the hopelessness evident.

Without a word, Austin reached into his bag and began counting out cash. "Here's 15k Pokédollars. It's enough to cover the rest of your mother's surgery. And in exchange, you answer my questions."

Christopher's eyes widened, trembling as he stared at the money Austin offered him. It wasn't necessary—Austin could've threatened him, manipulated him. But he didn't. Christopher's lips quivered, and tears started to well up in his eyes. "What's your first question?"

"How do you get into Team Rocket?"

----------------------------------------

A few minutes later, Austin was sneaking back into Pewter City, which was still buzzing from the chaos surrounding Mt. Moon. Small groups of people were huddled around shop windows, watching news reports on television screens. The city had an air of unease, but he kept his head down, moving through the streets unnoticed.

His destination was the Pokémon Center. As he walked in, he was met by the familiar face of Cassie, the intern manning the front desk. Her pink hair was a dead giveaway, and she had that usual tomboyish vibe about her.

"Oh, if it isn't my favorite workaholic. Didn't you leave for Mt. Moon?"

He grinned, trying to play it cool. "Dude, didn't you hear what happened at Mt. Moon? Shouldn't you be glad I'm safe?"

Cassie rolled her eyes but smiled. She and Austin had grown close during his basic medical aid training here. "I am glad, but what happened?"

He had to think quickly. "Nah, I was staying at a friend's house. I was going to go in the morning." He shrugged casually, planting the alibi. If anyone started investigating the trainers heading toward Mt. Moon, he needed to be far from suspicion.

"Lucky," Cassie sighed, sounding relieved. "So what can I do for you?"

"Can I use the communication room? I need to call my mom and let her know I'm safe," he said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, though he could feel the weight of everything pressing down on him.

"Good call," she said, nodding as she motioned him toward the back.

Austin gave her a quick smile, then turned toward the communication room.

----------------------------------------

Austin dialed the Viridian City Pokémon Center, his fingers moving quickly over the phone's buttons. He left a voicemail and switched immediately to a more personal call. Dealing with Delia right now... that was going to be a challenge.

News from Mt. Moon had been all over the media. Every headline screamed about the chaos, which only added fuel to Delia's fears. As a mom, she was already overprotective, but now, with Gary involved in the whole mess too, she was a wreck. Austin could hear it before she even said a word. The moment the call connected, she was crying.

"Mom, hey... it's me," he said softly, trying to calm her down, but his voice felt far too small in the face of her tears.

For a few minutes, he just let her get it all out—how scared she was, how the media made everything sound like the apocalypse, how she thought he'd gotten himself killed out there. His mind wandered, trying to piece together his own emotions. Guilt? Maybe. But more than anything, he just felt tired. Worn out. It was like he was constantly running, never really able to catch his breath.

"I'm fine, Mom. Really. I promise," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "No injuries, no scars, not even a scratch. All my underwear is clean." Did Ash used to run his underpants up a flagpole or something? I could never figure out why she cared so much about them.

She sniffled, finally calming down. "Just... be safe, Son. Please."

"I will, I swear," he said, grateful for the distraction as he noticed another incoming call. "Look, I've got someone else on the line, but I'll call you again soon, okay?"

She sighed. "Okay, sweetie. Just... keep yourself safe."

"I will," he said again, already switching the call over to Nurse Joy from Viridian City.

The second he answered, she didn't miss a beat. "Looks like you've been busy, Bag Boy. Was Mt. Moon also the darkness that shaped you?"

He blushed. I regret ever using that Bane's speech for a distraction. .

"So, what can I do for you, hero?"

He took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to start. "Well... I'm sure you've heard about the chaos at Mt. Moon."

"In a sense, yeah. But the news isn't really saying much, just that something happened."

Of course. The media was quick to panic but slow with details. He gave her a rundown of what happened, being careful to leave out the more brutal stuff. No point in making this worse than it already was.

"So, you need me to treat your Pokémon?" she asked, getting straight to the point.

"Yeah," he admitted. "It's better to keep things low-key. Too many questions might lead Team Rocket straight to me."

She nodded thoughtfully. "But couldn't your identity as 'Bag Boy' be traced back to Viridian? And from the description of your Pokémon, they could figure out who you are."

He hadn't even thought of that.

Nurse Joy smiled slightly, her voice calm. "Don't worry. I've already removed you from the Pokémon Center database. Even if someone tries to trace your visit here, they won't find any records of you."

Relief washed over him. "You're a lifesaver," he said, and he meant it. "How long will the check-up take?"

"I'll have them ready in about fifteen minutes," she replied, her professionalism cutting through the usual banter.

Once the call ended, Austin stared at his phone for a second, mind racing. He needed to call Professor Oak. Gary was involved in this mess, and the last thing he wanted was to have that on his conscience. Dialing the professor's lab, he ended up speaking with his assistant, who told him that Oak was on his way to Pewter to check on Gary personally.

Good. At least that part of the mess was being handled.

Then, as if the universe had some cruel sense of timing, his phone rang again. It was Nurse Joy, sooner than expected. When her face appeared on the screen, his heart sank. She looked... serious.

"What kind of situation were you in?"

"Life-threatening," he admitted, feeling the weight of the words.

She sighed heavily. "Well, I've got bad news and good news. Which do you want first?"

"Which one takes longer?" he asked, stalling for time, trying to brace himself.

"Bad news," she said with slight hesitation.

"Let's go with the good news then," he decided, already feeling like he needed something positive.

She nodded. "The good news is that your Pokémon can make a full recovery. And nice job on treating Pikachu—honestly, you did better than most amateurs. If being a trainer or a hero doesn't work out, you could always work for me."

He chuckled. "I saw your intern—no thanks, slave driver."

She smirked, the tension between them easing for a moment. "I promise, I'd treat you slightly less worse than my ex-husband."

They both laughed, the moment hanging there like a calm before the storm. Austin knew he'd have to face whatever bad news was coming, but right now, it felt good to just laugh.

"The bad news is that all your Pokémon are in serious need of help," Nurse Joy began, her voice heavy. Austin's stomach dropped. She wasn't sugarcoating anything. This was going to be bad.

"Let's start with Pikachu. He's the simplest case. He had multiple lacerations on his skin and some muscle damage. Thankfully, the first aid you administered prevented infection and further deterioration."

"What's the solution?" Austin asked, bracing himself for whatever was coming.

"Pikachu needs a course of antibiotics to stave off any potential infections from the cuts. I'll also apply a regenerative gel to accelerate the healing of his skin and muscles. He'll need rest and no battles until he's fully recovered."

Austin nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Okay, that's manageable."

Nurse Joy's expression shifted, and he knew they were moving on to the harder stuff. "Rattata, on the other hand, suffered from extensive burns across her body, along with internal damage and bleeding. The healing potions you used helped stabilize her, but she needs more intensive care."

"What needs to be done?" His voice cracked. He felt like he was on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a drop that never ended.

"She's going to need to be shaved to properly treat her burns. We'll apply a special burn ointment that promotes healing and reduces scarring. She'll also need pain management and anti-inflammatory medications to deal with discomfort and internal swelling. For the internal bleeding, we'll keep her on hemostatic agents and monitor her closely."

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. At least there was a plan. At least she could recover. "Thank you," he managed, relief mixing with the anxiety still churning in his gut.

Nurse Joy's tone turned somber, almost accusatory. "Lastly, there's the issue with Spearow. To be honest, if I didn't know you, I'd consider what you did to him to be abuse."

Austin froze. Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of him. Abuse? What had I done?

"How many badges did you use on Spearow?" she asked, her eyes boring into his.

"Eight Boulder Badges on Spearow and two on Rattata," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh, that explains it."

"Explains what?"

Nurse Joy's expression was grim. "A normal Spearow's mass is about 2 kilograms. Can you guess what your Spearow's mass is now?"

He had no idea. He'd never really thought about it. "No."

"Forty kilograms."

He felt like he'd been doused in ice water. Forty kilograms? That was—what had he done?

"Spearow's drastic weight gain is extremely harmful," Nurse Joy said, her voice carrying the weight of the words like an anvil. "Normally, a Spearow's hollow bones are adapted for flight, but at 40kg, flight becomes impossible. The excessive mass puts incredible strain on its skeletal structure, risking fractures and other bone injuries. More critically, the extra weight is a massive burden on Spearow's heart, which isn't designed to support such a body mass. This could lead to severe problems and a lifespan of less than a year."

Her words slammed into Austin, guilt clawing at his insides. He covered his face with his hands, trying to block out the shame that flooded over him. How could he let this happen? He thought he was helping Spearow—making it stronger—but instead, he'd pushed it to the brink of collapse.

"There are two solutions to all of this," Nurse Joy continued, her voice softening when she saw how crushed he was. "The first is surgery, where we'll remove the increased body mass. This is typically done in cases where rich trainers irresponsibly use items to drastically alter their Pokémon's physique, often leading to... well, you know." She hesitated, not wanting to say the word. Death.

Austin winced at the idea. "But Spearow's different?" he asked, almost pleading for a way out of the guilt.

"Yes. Your Spearow is stronger than most. It's not the typical case, and it's resilient enough to live through this. But surgery is still risky."

He felt a small spark of hope flicker inside him. He wasn't a complete screw-up. Maybe Spearow could pull through.

Nurse Joy tilted her head slightly, listening as Austin described Spearow's training regimen.

"Hmm, that might explain some increase in bone density," she conceded, her eyes thoughtful. "Your training may have inadvertently strengthened Spearow's bones enough to withstand the extra mass, which is lucky—very lucky. Most normal Spearows would've snapped like twigs under this kind of pressure."

He felt a flicker of pride but quickly crushed it under the weight of the situation. "So... there's another option?"

Nurse Joy sighed. "Yes, theoretically."

That word made Austin freeze. Theoretically? "What do you mean, theoretically?"

"The second option is riskier. Most trainers—or medical professionals for that matter—don't even consider it. But because Spearow's internal structure seems stronger, I'm recommending it."

Austin leaned forward, his heart pounding. "What is it?"

Nurse Joy's expression shifted to something almost... amused. "Becoming an Alpha Pokémon."

For a second, Austin thought he'd misheard her. "Wait, what?"

"Alpha Pokémon," she repeated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Do you know what they are?"

He shook his head, feeling like a clueless kid again. "No, ma'am."

Nurse Joy explained, "In the wild, there are Pokémon bigger and stronger than the normal versions of their species—Alpha Pokémon. They're incredibly rare, almost as rare as legendaries."

Austin blinked. Alpha Pokémon? Like... real-life, beefed-up super versions of normal Pokémon? This sounded insane. "So... Spearow could become one?"

"It's possible. Statistically rare, but possible," Nurse Joy continued. "Sometimes it happens due to genetic predispositions or environmental factors. In Spearow's case, you might just be lucky—very, very lucky."

He tried to wrap his head around it. "So... what, Spearow just evolves into an Alpha Fearow?"

"Essentially, yes," Nurse Joy said with a nod. "When a Spearow evolves, its body mass normally increases significantly—from around 2kg to about 38kg. In your Spearow's case, it would grow even larger due to its current condition."

Austin felt his breath catch in his throat. "How big are we talking?"

Nurse Joy paused, doing some quick calculations in her head. "Based on its current weight and typical growth patterns, I estimate around nine feet tall with a 28-foot wingspan."

Austin jumped out of his chair. "Jesus Christ!"

Who? Nurse Joy thought but didn't say anything.

"As I said, you're very lucky," Nurse Joy added with a twinkle in her eye. "So, what's your choice?"

He didn't even need to think about it. "Spearow would love to be an Alpha Fearow."

Nurse Joy nodded approvingly. "I'm sure he will."

Austin's heart raced, but he couldn't help the excitement bubbling up beneath the anxiety. This was huge. Spearow, an Alpha? It felt surreal.

"So, what now?" he asked, trying to refocus.

"Now, I'll send back Pikachu and Spearow with their medications and detailed care instructions," Nurse Joy explained, slipping back into her professional tone. "Rattata will be sent tomorrow after we've treated her burns and assessed the damage."

Austin thanked her and ended the call, leaning back in his chair, trying to process everything. His mind was spinning with images of a nine-foot Fearow tearing through the skies—or, more likely, eating him out of house and home.

"Nine feet, huh?" he muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling.

He was gonna need to make some serious adjustments—bigger Pokéballs, more food, way more space. Managing an Alpha Pokémon would be like caring for a small dinosaur. No, scratch that—it was caring for a small dinosaur.

The thought hit him like a truck. He slammed his head onto the table. This is gonna burn through my wallet like a Snorlax at a buffet.

Fuck.

He groaned into the table, already dreading the financial nightmare that was about to unfold. What had he just signed up for?