The recent days had been eerily quiet after the brutal purge under Dorian’s ruthless command. Those who emerged as the new commanders from the deadly culling of the Purging Pits had undergone profound transformations in their demeanor and battle skills, unearthing facets of themselves they had long suppressed. This change in personality set them starkly apart from their less skilled peers, who now regarded them with a fearful respect.
Yet, despite their newfound prowess, the commanders had remained dormant since their harrowing trial. Those most deeply changed were now itching for any excuse to engage in Pokémon battles, driven by a dark pleasure in lashing out and securing victories to inflate their reputations. The situation had grown so volatile that Matori had to isolate them, meticulously rationing their thirst for combat in scheduled encounters.
Meanwhile, those who resisted the aggressive pull found a perverse form of amusement. In a cruel twist of fate, Team Rocket’s restructuring had catapulted them from the dregs of society to a dark source of fascination. Once despised due their participation in the loss of two cities, they were now inspiring clueless trainers to emulate their deadly matches in thousands of videos shared on social media, with outcomes that ranged from laughable to lethal.
The spark ignited by the young leader had firmly cemented his position, and now his followers eagerly awaited his next command. Yet, no one had seen him in days.
Unknown to all but Matori, Dorian had secluded himself in his room. His only order—to not be disturbed under any circumstances until he deemed fit—was largely unnecessary, as intellectual training held little interest for most of his followers.
Yet, while many had become increasingly aggressive or conceited, Brody was one of the few who chose to distance himself from the group. He found solace with the loneliest member, in the most isolated and hidden barrack of the headquarters.
“You don’t like peanuts either?” Brody asked Marianne, sighing in another futile attempt to get a reaction.
Marianne slowly shook her head. Her long, fading pink hair hung limply, resembling a disheartened Misdreavous that had lost its passion for scaring people.
Far from being disheartened, Brody grabbed a fistful of peanuts and munched them all at once, filling his cheeks as he smiled, hoping to lift Marianne's spirits. But she simply looked down and continued sipping her glass of water.
“I-I’m not used to having company,” Marianne whispered. “Y-You should go with the rest.”
“I’d rather be here than with those maniacs,” Brody responded as he scanned the barely illuminated room. “It’s quieter here. I like it.”
"You mean boring..." Marianne corrected him, hunching over as she stared at the floor.
Brody stopped munching, then swallowed his snack as he prepared his response.
"After what we went through, I hope this 'boredom' lasts as long as possible," he answered honestly. His words managed to coax a hesitant, fragile smile from Marianne, but it quickly faded back into her usual gloom.
"It's just a matter of time before he's done scheming, and we'll have to endure another cruel test," she said with somber acknowledgment.
“I doubt it,” Brody said, trying to ease her worries. “The purging took a toll on our numbers and Pokémon. If he does something like that again, it will only be a matter of time before he leads a legion of crippled ones. So don’t worry about it.”
Though Brody’s words were reasonable, under Dorian’s rule, things had become so twisted that a self-destructive maneuver wasn’t all that surprising. Marianne hunched over again, her shoulders trembling like she did when they forced her to leave the comfort of her isolated workplace.
“It’s not only him…,” she murmured. “The man with the cane is scary too.”
Brody frowned at her revelation. “Dr. Cadmus? He’s been locked in his laboratory since his arrival. Hasn’t spoken with anyone else as far as I know.”
“I saw him earlier today…” Marianne confessed, her voice quivering. “And yesterday too.”
“In the hallway or something?” Brody casually asked, surprised that the enigmatic scientist had left his facilities for once without no one noticing.
“Hidden in the shadows… staring at me as if… as if I had caught his interest.”
Brody’s casual demeanor turned to concern at Marianne’s revelation. “A creep assisting another creep,” he muttered, brushing the salt from his fingers as he stood tall.
“W-where are you going?” Marianne asked, widening her olive eyes in alarm.
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell the old creep not to bother you anymore,” Brody reassured her, walking out of the room with newfound confidence.
“W-Wait! Brody! D-Don’t!”
Marianne faintly shouted, tugging at his clothes with all the fragile strength she could muster.
Brody gently placed his hand over her head. “Team… I mean, ‘Ren’, is turning everyone uncontrollable, like wild Pokémon craving prey,” he said as Marianne stopped her weak efforts. “Matori has her hands full with this issue, and Dorian hasn’t shown his creepy face for days. That means you and I might be the only ones with enough sanity to put some order here.”
“P-Please, don’t do it... Just ignore what I said,” Marianne begged, hunching and shivering at the slightest risk of being scolded again. “W-What if this time you get something worse than a scar?”
Brody touched the scar on his neck, recalling the deadly encounter he had with Dorian. The remnants of those painful hours in the medical hall fortunately hadn’t driven him insane like the others. Instead, they had given him a renewed sense of purpose among the ranks of Ren. He wouldn’t flinch at the chance to prove he was no longer the weakling he thought to be.
But despite Brody's determined gaze, Marianne's lost expression slowly turned to panic as she looked at the figure walking through the hall outside the room, like the reappearance of a once-vanished Ghastly. Her olive eyes widened now in terror, and her long, fading pink hair shifted like a curtain as she hunched, trying to hide her expression.
Realizing there was only one person capable of causing Marianne such an emotional breakdown, Brody quickly turned as well. And there he was.
After days of seclusion, Dorian emerged with bold determination, heading toward the only place that could have motivated him to leave his isolation. Despite his renewed confidence, Dorian's mere presence made Brody act reflexively, covering the scar on his neck again. A mix of caution and uncertainty welled up within him.
Dorian's eyes flicked over Brody and Marianne. He paused, his emerald eyes locking onto them. Marianne's entire body trembled as she took a step back, her hair swaying and partially obscuring her face as she tried to hide behind Brody. She hunched over further, her fear palpable.
Brody took a protective stance, his body tense and ready, but his hand refused to stop covering his neck, as if his mere survival instinct had taken control of his arm. He could only watch Dorian with a mix of defiance and trepidation.
The young leader slowly turned his head toward them, his gaze piercing through the brief moment of silence. Marianne's trembling intensified, and she pressed closer to Brody, seeking refuge.
A devious smirk played on Dorian's lips as he deduced the growing bond between them and the potential he could exploit further. Without a word, he continued his path, his presence lingering like an ominous dark shadow.
As Dorian left, Marianne collapsed into a fetal position, her hair cascading over her like a protective shroud. "I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die!" she repeated, her voice trembling with the panic she thought she had overcome.
Brody remained frozen, his hand pressing against his neck in a desperate and futile attempt to erase the scar with mere willpower. An inner turmoil churned within him, feeling a betrayal to the growth and bravery he believed he had gained after his recovery.
In that moment of complete vulnerability, Brody and Marianne felt as if Dorian's influence was a poison they would never recover from.
The dim and old research facility of the headquarters had recently been reopened after Dr. Cadmus resumed his work. Like Dorian, the doctor hadn’t been seen for weeks, save from those rare occasions he left to watch someone who had caught his interest, like a Haunter dwelling in the shadows. Not even the cleaning personnel were allowed inside, leaving the space in a state of eerie neglect.
Blankets and covers that once protected fragile equipment lay discarded on the floor, their surfaces thick with decades of gathered dust. The air was stale, carrying the scent of abandonment and disuse, mainly due the complete enclosement of a laboratory built underground.
New equipment, specially requested by the scientist, remained scattered haphazardly around the facility. Most boxes hadn’t even been opened, while others were hastily torn apart to verify their contents. The once-organized space now resembled a chaotic storeroom, with cutting-edge technology buried under layers of dust and debris.
The only thing that seemed to be working properly was the main console located at the very end of the laboratory. A giant monitor displayed data being loaded, with a progress bar inching forward in a process that had apparently begun days ago, when Dr. Cadmus started his work. The soft glow of the monitor cast an eerie light over the room, highlighting the disarray.
In the midst of this clutter, Cadmus was meticulously examining the arm of the veteran Machamp that had been neglected ever since his victorious debut in the very first Purging Pits event. His tool, a device that resembled a mix of a needle and a skeletal arm with thin, metallic fingers, twisted with an almost ghostly precision. The skeletal arm moved with an eerie grace, clicking and whirring as it bended and flexed in unnatural ways, emitting small blue sparks while the device delicately adjusted Machamp’s prosthetic limb. Each movement was precise and calculated, like a baleful performer playing an eerie symphony.
With each adjustment, Dr. Cadmus checked in his device, ensuring the readings were perfect. Despite Machamp’s brute force, he insisted on delicate precision, not out of an obsessive search for perfection, but as a way to busy himself with seemingly mundane tasks to prevent any waste of time while the computer completed its mysterious process.
The quiet atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the hatch daringly opening as the young leader strode in.
"Time to talk, Doc," Dorian announced as he entered, his gaze sweeping over the chaotic laboratory until he almost stumbled over a loose box that was covered in the dark. "Seriously! Couldn't you at least call someone to clean up here?"
"Quiet," Dr. Cadmus calmly replied, not stopping his current task. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Dorian's annoyance at being addressed like a spoiled boy again ignited his anger, but he clenched his fist, resisting the urge for retribution as he inspected the mess the dark scientist had allowed to accumulate in the laboratory.
The progress bar on the main computer’s screen was almost complete, its soft glow illuminating the disorder. Metallic pieces from who knows what machines were scattered along the tables, alongside stacks of crumpled papers and files, creating a scene of chaotic neglect. Dorian couldn’t help but feel irritated at the disarray, which seemed to mock his own need for control and order at least in his personal space.
But among the mess, something caught Dorian’s attention. Near the toolbox Cadmus kept open as he continued working, the young leader saw many small, black slats no bigger than the palm of his hand, and either scattered on the table or piled up in at least ten towers about half a meter high. He got closer and grabbed one, rotating it to see if there was anything else besides the flat, shiny surface, but found nothing.
“What 's this?” he asked.
Rather than answering, Cadmus pushed a button on his device with his free hand. Suddenly, the wall in front of them opened, revealing a sample of Dorian’s aftermath after his disturbing cleansing.
Inside the small, dark prison lay an injured and seemingly old Nidorino, breathing heavily as it tried to find some safe spot in one of its jail’s corners. Its wounds, barely patched to cover the most superficial injuries, looked severe even in the scarce light. The Ground-type Pokémon slowly opened its eyes, but the single glance at Dorian made it gather whatever life force it still had to express its deep resentment.
Even the veteran Machamp couldn’t escape a grunt of discomfort after seeing its old partner being treated like that. Dorian, however, merely raised an eyebrow, more intrigued by the realization that the losers of his purge were still out there, rather than the hatred a "lesser beast" could direct at him.
"Try it yourself. Hold the slate as if it was a mirror and point it towards that beast," Cadmus instructed without changing his attention to the current task.
Dorian followed Cadmus's indications, a faint excitement and curiosity filling him as he pointed the slate at the injured Nidorino. Then, as soon as the slate was aimed at its target, a thin, pitch-dark beam emerged from the device, immediately enveloping Nidorino like a voracious entity and enclosing it back inside the slate. The scene happened so quickly that even the injured Pokémon didn't have time to react.
"Interesting..." Dorian said, inspecting the slate now glowing with a faint crimson light. "Is this like a Poké Ball or something?"
"Done," Cadmus announced as he finished adjusting Machamp's arm. He removed and turned off the device from his hands, then stood up, resting his arm on the table to stretch after hours of tedious work.
"It follows the same principles as a regular Poké Ball, yes," Cadmus explained. "But don't compare it to such a childish, impractical device. This is faster, more resistant and easier to store and transport. Seriously, what's the point of the common design that takes up too much unnecessary space and ends up rolling all over the place?"
"Because you would look ridiculous throwing this thing at a Pokémon. It would laugh as soon as you take this out,” Dorian replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm yet grounded in common sense.
Cadmus remained silent for a moment, conflicted by Dorian's simple yet fair answer and the potential the young leader seemed to dismiss in his invention.
"A Poké Ball is aerodynamic and easier to handle," Dorian continued, enjoying his mockery of the Doctor's invention. "Also, isn't there a scientific principle about why a round device provides much more space and comfort to the Pokémon enclosed in case it is injured?"
Cadmus, not changing his serious look, approached and took the slat from Dorian's hand. "I didn't invent them with the purpose of using them as regular Poké Balls, but as a means to store what you so easily dismissed," Cadmus said, lightly tossing the slat on the table.
The object landed next to the pile of black slats, as if another gravestone had just been carved, waiting to be used by the future deceased. Dorian, who until now hadn’t really cared about the fate of the Pokémon who were too old, injured, or crippled after the Purging Pits battles, figured out his answer.
“Are those…?”
"Unlike you, my boy, I see purpose in even the lowest and most pathetic life forms,” Cadmus continued. “Witnessing them being wasted after they failed your challenge is something I just couldn't stand."
"And what purpose could that be?" Dorian asked, crossing his arms.
Cadmus grinned maliciously at the young leader's naivety, causing Dorian to frown with annoyance at another display of the Doctor's boast.
"This magic we’ll bring... has its own rules," he explained. "And it won't be cheap in terms of life and vitality. We will need a vast amount, even if it’s about to fade away. In order to secure it, I’ve already stored the relinquished ones in these 'Soul Shackles,' as I call them. Want to know the why of its name?"
Dorian remained silent, wondering when the grim scientist would finally stop praising himself.
"These keep the creature alive no matter how injured or if they're on the brink of death. Think of cryogenics, but much more reliable."
"Quite the amount you gathered. I suppose it cannot be done with people as well," Dorian casually said as he gazed at the black pile once again.
Dr. Cadmus sighed at Dorian's lack of enthusiasm but understood that it was still early for him to grasp the real potential of their quest.
Machamp had enough of their talk undermining the lives of its kin and headed to the table where its own Poké Ball rested. With its finger, it pressed the button and enclosed itself while none of them even noticed.
"They have many more uses, but let's talk about that another time. You didn't abandon your self-imposed isolation just because you wanted some fresh air. So… what can I do for you?"
Dorian felt relieved that their initial boring interaction was finally over, and they could move on to the main reason for his sudden visit. He put on his dark glasses, using the interface to project an image of a large, robust building.
"This is the headquarters of the 'Project Legends' initiative," Dorian began. "A global group made up of trainers, researchers, activists, and many more, in an effort to study and catalog all the legendary and mythical Pokémon in existence. But they were originally known by another name: 'Project Mew.'"
Dr. Cadmus crossed his arms and nodded as if he was aware of what Dorian was exposing. He paid no attention to his seemingly condescending attitude and continued, now projecting the group picture of those who had joined the initiative at that time. Two of them, however, Cadmus could recognize very well: the young boy with the record of more Pokémon caught in his career, and the other one, a researcher and grandson of Professor Oak and whose life was cut short during Team Rocket's fall.
"As the name suggests, their main goal was to study and catch Mew. Obviously, they failed, but they gathered the most complete data on this Pokémon to date. Most of it is public, but its energy signature or any other way to track this Pokémon or Mewtwo must be well kept under their strict supervision."
"So I assume you failed in tracking the device, or Giovanni's Persian," Cadmus interrupted with a slightly condescending tone that made Dorian recall his previous scolding. "You spent days in isolation for you to reach the same obstacle I did."
“Wait, wait, wait! You already knew?” Dorian asked, frowning with a mix of annoyance and anger over the wasted time. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
“Calm down, my boy. I’m not scolding you,” Cadmus calmly lectured. “Had I given you the answer, you would have never figured out an alternative, nor studied these people as you did, because…”
Cadmus stopped, extending his left hand, as if inviting Dorian to continue their shared thought.
“These people don’t joke around, especially since their high-ranking members have partnered with legendary Pokémon,” Dorian responded, his tone now pragmatic, a stark contrast to his previous arrogance and erratic attitude. “Facing them directly would be stupid, but there are other means to get that info.”
The grim scientist grinned maliciously, a feeling of dark pride reaching out his twisted soul.
"Congratulations. You’ve finally learned to crawl, now you can take your first real steps into this enterprise."
"Cut it off, doc," Dorian warned, not sharing his enthusiasm, nor feeling any sense of fulfillment.
"My apologies. I’ve never been one to lift up others’ spirits," Cadmus responded. "But so far, as a leader, you've performed way better than anyone expected, carefully crafting this new Ren despite the nonsensical destruction of your grand... Giovanni's legacy. However, now that your appetite for victory has increased significantly as you leave your comfort zone, one must consider all the variables and possible outcomes for what’s coming."
"I think you're underestimating us a bit, doc," Dorian responded hastily, as if the maturity he previously showed had been just a momentary flash that escaped his overconfident persona.
"No, it is you the one underestimating these people," Cadmus retorted. "I admit, your unorthodox methods have shown good results despite their lack of common sense, but your number of effective elements has also decreased drastically, leaving you in the same place. Now, let's say you take the stealthy approach... We are not really sure of what 'Project Legends' has in its arsenal. As you said, the least you can expect are Legendary Pokémon which, while I believe you will be able to give a great spectacle when facing them, I'm 99% certain your entire force will lose. Sorry, my boy, but outside the shadows of your supposedly grandeur, odds are not in your favor."
Dorian's eyes flickered with frustration, but he forced himself to listen. The sting of Cadmus' words was undeniable, but there was a kernel of truth in them.
"Hacking their systems," Dorian suggested then. "Less flashy, but more effective if we get the correct people."
"If I couldn't find a way to break Cassiopeia's walls, what makes you think you have any chance?" Cadmus countered.
"Who?" Dorian asked, puzzled.
"Leave this issue for when you finally spread your wings. It's not worth investing your time and energy trying to catch a still unreachable goal while you ignore the best opportunity you've had ever since inheriting this force," Cadmus responded, ignoring his question but now taking a more flexible tone. He grabbed his cane and walked toward the giant monitor, waving his hand for Dorian to follow him. "Here. Let me show you something."
Dorian followed, his curiosity piqued despite his earlier frustration. Cadmus reached the console and pressed a button, the progress bar on the screen vanishing and replaced by multiple windows, each displaying snippets of the current and most popular trend that had caught the attention of countless Pokémon trainers.
"Giovanni spent decades plotting and scheming to unite the world under Team Rocket's banner," Cadmus began. "He dreamt of people bearing the symbol he created while chanting the name, one that's now forever cursed after his madness... Yet, you've made more progress in achieving that same ambition in just a matter of months."
Dorian's attention was solely focused on the different videos and feeds cascading from numerous social media platforms, as if gazing at a canvas of his authorship that had outperformed his initial expectations. Pokémon trainers, most of them teenagers, not only bore Ren's symbol but excitedly showed their commitment. 'We are Ren's moto appeared countless times, either in texts or short videos of trainers chanting the motto, some using their Pokémon vocals and growls to harmonize the catchy hymn. Rebellious clothes and accessories, all of them featuring the 'R' emblem, embraced those who had also adopted his idea as a fashion trend. But what caught Dorian's attention more than any of the manifestations of the movement he had created, were the multiple Pokémon battles imitating the style of the Purging Pits.
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Most were hilarious, like a mockery of the ones he forced in his own elements; a Donphan tried to use Rollout against its opponent, only to accidentally fall into one of the ditches the trainers had excavated to be as faithful as possible to the real Pits. In another video, a vigorous black Haxorus had just taken out its already beaten opponent with a devastating Draco Meteor.
Dorian remained captivated, a morbid satisfaction coursing through him as he witnessed the successful acceptance of his creed. The sight of trainers and their Pokémon, mimicking the brutal battles he helped popularize, filled him with a twisted pride. He could see the power he wielded, not just over his own forces but over the next generation of trainers who were eager to embrace his methods and ideology.
"You know what this is, don't you?" Cadmus pondered, testing Dorian's wisdom beyond the superficial impact.
Dorian heard the question, but there was no power that could deviate his attention from the screen. He was weighing the opportunity that lay before him and the implications of the power he now wielded.
"A symbol," Dorian responded in a canny tone. "A face partially remaining behind a mask, a facade they've gladly believed and accepted without knowing exactly why, but they'll realize eventually."
Cadmus smiled and nodded with a perfidious pride at Dorian's acute reasoning. "The perfect diversion, my boy," Cadmus complemented. "While authorities and social figures deal with Ren's bad influence, you will have precious time to consolidate and increase your power... But then what?"
Cadmus's reasoned yet undermining query broke Dorian's contemplation.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Masks eventually fall, Dorian. When that happens, will Ren's true face and strength be able to stand the might of the entire world going after it? Because there's a limit to what they will tolerate before they come for you and everyone involved."
Dorian's mind rushed to find a clever and convincing answer, but he found none. Once again, he was speechless at the old scientist’s grim wisdom and outlook.
"That was Giovanni's greatest mistake," Cadmus continued. "He showed Team Rocket's true face when the symbol was nothing but the logo of a criminal group. When the hammer of retribution fell with the anger and resentment of the entire world after he burned two cities to the ground in his madness. Well... you know the rest."
"But we have something that he didn't," Dorian responded as he contemplated his clueless supporters on the screen once again. "I admit that I didn’t expect this outcome, but we must take the momentum to strengthen our symbol before we remove the mask and face whatever comes from an angry mob after they see their young ones aligned to Ren."
"Define it first," Cadmus suggested with a final word of advice. "You want ultimate victory, but against whom? The Region's Champions? Pokémon from legends? The Underworld where you came from? Whatever the case, make sure your symbol is strong enough to overpower them... but in the meantime, I need to do some analysis on the anxious lady who remains locked up all day."
"You mean Marianne?" Dorian raised his left eyebrow. "Why the interest?"
"She may be quite the specimen," Cadmus responded as he grabbed a black notebook hidden below the pile of old documents on the table. "If she's what I think she is, she may be much more useful than someone driven by a deadly instinct of self-preservation."
Dorian scoffed at Cadmus's request but found the old scientist's interest in Marianne quite curious. "Considering that you've done whatever you wanted ever since arriving here, I wonder why you just didn't take her."
"A young man is always guarding her like a loyal and pathetic Rockruff. Didn't want to make a scene while I commanded Machamp to crush his skull," Cadmus explained with a mix of calm and morbid oddity.
Dorian smirked, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes as he quickly figured out the identity of such a loyal guardian.
"I'll make sure he learns his place once again in case he gets in the way," Dorian reassured. "But you've piqued my curiosity, doc. What kind of ability are you talking about? Because if it is anything like what in the Underworld we refer to as 'Weird ones,' it is annoying, but hardly a surprise."
"More like... their antithesis," Cadmus responded with another cryptic term. He smirked, enjoying the air of intrigue that, as he had learned, Dorian found extremely annoying. "And who knows... with her, you may be able to hear the 'Echoes’."
Cadmus's last statement was uttered in a muffled whisper, loud enough for Dorian to notice but too quiet to fully grasp.
"What did you say?" Dorian asked.
Cadmus turned his back, meticulously checking the black slats one by one. The scientist's cryptic behavior and apparent mockery of Dorian's limited knowledge had become a tiresome routine, and Dorian could feel his anger bubbling beneath the surface.
But before Dorian could retaliate, the hatch door suddenly opened.
"Here you are!" Matori yelled as she stormed into the laboratory, her eyes scanning the chaos Dr. Cadmus had left in the facilities. "We've got a serious problem!"
"One problem? More like two messed up disasters!" Bertram chimed in from the screen hovering behind Matori.
"Not now," Dorian replied, his mind still fixated on Cadmus's last statement.
But Matori had had enough of Dorian's attitude.
"YOU LISTEN TO ME NOW, YOU CLUELESS BRAT!" she shouted with a firm voice that could have made an Exploud go deaf. Even Cadmus focused his attention on her, but Dorian kept his gaze fixed on him. "Our insider in Galar contacted me regarding the outcome of what happened in Slumbering Weald," Matori continued.
"I thought that issue had been resolved," Dorian stated.
"That's what I thought as well... until the International Police got involved for a second interrogation," Matori explained. "One of the children who encountered the deserters turned out to be the daughter of someone important... Very, very important. You'll never believe it."
Dorian rolled his eyes. "Can’t any of you just get to the point instead of building all this useless suspense that—?"
"Ash Ketchum!" Matori cut him off.
There was a moment of brief, tense silence, as if someone had cried out loud the coming of a ravaging storm that demanded everyone's attention.
"'The World Monarch'...Giovanni’s Bane… THE Ash Ketchum?" Dorian quickly turned, his eyes wide open at the shocking revelation.
"And that's not all," Bertram continued. "Shortly after, he and three others—one of them a high-ranked detective from the International Police—managed to track down and then challenged Zeke in her own domains. No one really knows how and why they did it or what exactly happened down there, but they not only left without any apparent retribution, they convinced Zeke to ban all the Purging Pits events until further notice. Business is over, partner."
Dorian stood frozen, his mind grappling with the staggering revelation that had just shattered his previous understanding. The truth, so vague and yet impossibly real, hung in the air between them like Arbok's Poison Gas. His body refused to move, paralyzed by the sheer magnitude of what he had learned. But in the depths of his emerald eyes, a faint spark flickered—a subtle hint of excitement, a glimmer of recognition. This coincidence, as astonishing as it was, provided a possible answer to the dilemma that plagued him after listening to Cadmus's words. The pieces seemed to finally fall into place, and Dorian felt the stirrings of a reachable, exhilarating opportunity.
"Tell me everything in detail..." he demanded.
The office was shrouded in darkness, broken only by the faint glow of the projection emanating from Dorian's dark glasses, which lay on the table before him. He sat motionless, his chin resting on his intertwined hands, eyes fixated on the images before him. He had remained in this position for hours, like a Xatu watching infinite possible outcomes in full contemplation.
The carousel of pictures displayed the life of Ash Ketchum seen by the lens of the media. Dorian's gaze moved from image to image, absorbing the journey of the boy from the humble and picturesque Pallet Town. Most of them were snapshots of Ash with Pikachu and the rest of his Pokémon partners, moments of victory in their various encounters, especially the culminating moment where he became a living legend during the World Coronation Series; as well as scenes of camaraderie with his family and friends. The pictures transitioned smoothly, each one telling a piece of the story that had led Ash to become the World Monarch and, eventually, a family man.
Dorian's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched a younger Ash, full of determination, standing victorious in the Alola League. Another image showed Ash in the heat of battle with his Charizard during the defense of his title four years after he became the strongest Pokémon trainer in the world, flames roaring around them. The next frame was a tender moment, Ash and his wife playing with his two children, the joy on his face a stark contrast to the fierce competitor he turns during a Pokémon battle.
The office was silent, save for the soft hum of the projection device. The dim light casted eerie shadows on the walls, the flickering images reflecting off Dorian's eyes. He barely blinked, his mind racing with thoughts as he studied every detail, every expression, every movement captured in the still frames.
An obsession that grew with each passing second while he ignored Matori watching him from outside the room.
“It’s been four hours. Is he finally done?” Bertram asked, his face suddenly appearing on the hovering screen. His jaw dropped slightly, indignant and incredulous at seeing Dorian still watching pictures in the dark room. “Are you kidding me? I’ve got a crisis down here with dozens of events and combats canceled after Zeke’s command! What the hell’s wrong with him?”
“Honestly... that’s what I’ve been wondering ever since we met,” Matori sighed, removing her glasses as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her mind was already exhausted with the massive number of responsibilities and incidents within their forces piling up in less than a week—the busiest one she’d had in twenty years.
“He’s dealing with a moment of enlightenment that may define the entire outcome of his quest for ultimate victory,” came a sudden voice from behind Matori and Bertram, causing a shiver to run down her spine.
Leaning on his cane and clad in his wrinkled lab coat, Cadmus mischievously grinned at Matori as she turned to face him. The same grimace of falsehood and distrust played on his lips, a look he didn’t bother to hide, as if rejoicing in his influence over Dorian.
“Having free reign over Team… Ren’s resources doesn't exclude you from reporting to me all you do, especially whatever you are doing with our Pokémon, Cadmus,” she said, stepping closer to him. Despite being taller than her, the scientist seemed to shrink under her authoritative tone and manner. “What were you and Dorian talking about before I arrived at the laboratory? Which, by the way, you turned into a dumpster that I expect you to clean by the end of this weekend.”
“I merely gave him some perspective,” he responded calmly, seemingly unaffected by Matori’s admonition. “A skill he should have honed before, instead of you spoiling him by indulging every reckless idea he came up with.”
“Spoiling… HIM?!” Matori’s jaw almost dropped with indignation as Bertram chuckled at Cadmus’s sharp tongue and ruthless retort. “You crossed the line, deceiver…!”
“What do you think when you hear the word ‘Pokémon’?” Dorian thoughtfully asked.
The sudden question after hours of contemplation cut off Matori’s assault. She was used to Dorian’s strange and out of place questions, but there was something different this time; it was not sarcastic or sanctimonious like the ones he usually used. Instead, this was done with genuine inquiry about their perspectives.
“What do you think when you hear the word ‘Pokémon’?” Dorian asked earnestly again, standing up with his gaze still distant.
“Money? Profit?” Bertram replied dismissively with the first thing that came to his greedy mind.
Matori, however, took her time, searching for an answer that could encapsulate the essence of "Pokémon" in a way that resonated with everyone, even criminals like themselves. As she delved into her thoughts, a long-buried memory surfaced unexpectedly. She recalled that Alolan Meowth who had once become close to her, a rare bond forged through mutual respect and shared ambition. Despite their hardened exterior, they still had built a bridge of loyalty and companionship, qualities that transcended their often cold and calculating existence until that tragic moment where he…
For a moment, the memory softened her as she articulated her answer.
“A bonding…,” Matori responded. “Partners.”
Dorian pointed at Matori as if her answer was the one he expected.
“And it’s in battles, journeys and multiple manifestations that people invent where they forge this partnership. So strong sometimes that transcends their limits. And who represents this better than the most influential, stronger and famous Pokémon trainer of recent times, or even history, but him?”
Dorian then turned his gaze to the hundreds of pictures of Ash’s life. He spoke with such passion and admiration that made him almost unrecognizable. Never had Matori and Bertram imagined the narcissistic Dorian praising and admiring someone else besides him.
“Ash and Pikachu! The living legends! The second youngest trainer to ever win the World Coronation Series, and the one who’s held the title for the longest time! A hero in every sense of the word! No one has seen or interacted with more legendary and rare Pokémon or famous personalities than him; many times with the fate of the entire world over his shoulders. Not to mention that he’s been in the front while fighting and disbanding almost every criminal organization in each region - attaining even more recognition during his crucial role when he finally kicked Giovanni’s butt,” he smiled with a smug face as he projected the infamous frontpage that announced Team Rocket’s defeat, savoring Matori’s open wound. “Seriously, if this world had a protagonist, Ash Ketchum would undoubtedly be the one, so it is not a surprise that such a hottie had fallen for him...”
With a movement of his hand, the pictures were swapped, now showing the glamorously talented woman who ruled over all the Pokémon aesthetic manifestations. Just like her husband, the pictures depicted her history, from her humble beginnings as a rookie Performer during her teen years, her highlight moment when she was crowned Kalos Queen a couple of years after, and more recently, her numerous appearances as a judge, as well as during her role at the Academy she established.
"Her Royal Highness, The Empress of Couture: Serena. While her husband rules the arenas, she extends her influence as the most respected and influential person in the world of Pokémon Showcases and Contests," Dorian continued with even more reverence, pressing his palm to his chest. "Also, the only person in history to remain undefeated for the Kalos Queen crown. Rather, she abdicated when she wanted to pursue other goals. A decision that earned her the fitting title of Everqueen."
Bertram exchanged a confused look with Matori, trying to find any sense in Dorian’s eloquent ramble within her usually calm demeanor, but she looked as lost as him.
“Did you know that they met when they were like five? Who marries the first person you ever fall for, anyway? But damn, the World Monarch with the Everqueen sounds perfect and inevitable, so they would not waste any time after getting married in order to have little heirs; the youngest one is a three years old brat who… well, does whatever a toddler does: being cute, I guess. But the other one…”
Dorian swapped the pictures with numerous videos of Ash and Serena's eldest daughter during her first gym challenge, each clip highlighting key moments of the intense battles. One video showed her Galarian Meowth being knocked out by its opponent after failing a fierce, empowered Metal Claw. Another video captured her shiny Gible, its scales glistening under the arena lights, launching a devastating Scaleshot right at its opponent’s face. Though the young trainer still had a long way to go, her prowess and strategic brilliance were starting to shine, drawing parallels to her legendary parents.
"Call it coincidence, call it fate or whatever. But the little princess's fateful encounter with the deserters that I initially dismissed is actually an omen, a promise of what is to come. A precious angel who's leading me the way to..."
"Dorian..." Matori cut him off from his moment of epiphany. "I don't get where you're going with this, and to be honest, this admiration... this unexpected fascination you have with this family in specific is borderline creepy."
Dorian slowly approached her, his eyes still gleaming with that fervor and respect that only made her even more uneasy.
"Because this family..." Dorian whispered as the screen projected a single tender moment of Ash and Serena with their two children. "Is the pinnacle of what people think of the Pokémon World. The heart and soul of a greater symbol."
The family picture shrank as hundreds more filled the empty space. Champions and Elite Four members of different regions, as well as gym leaders and famous personalities, each had made their own mark in the world alongside their Pokémon partners. Bertram recognized the veteran champion Cynthia during the last World Coronation Series, as well as the youngest one; Lei from Alola, hugging a six years old Elysia with familiar care during his culminating moment.
Matori, however, focused her attention on an older picture of Ash, the high-ranked member of Project Legends, Goh, and the unfriendly but loyal Paul, along with the deceased former Unova Champion Iris and Pokémon researcher Gary. The image triggered her memories of Team Rocket's darkest day, and the people and Pokémon she lost as well. Her eyes narrowed, and a hint of old pain and unresolved anger flickered in her gaze.
"I still don't follow," Matori declared with a lump in her throat.
"This symbol of resilience, success, and legacy..." Dorian responded, drawing a circle with his arm toward the screen, as if trying to encapsulate the colossal quest ahead. "Is what we are facing, what we will replace. So when someone thinks of Pokémon, their first thought will be Ren."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle in the room.
“Hold on, hold on. Let me get this straight,” Bertram said after regaining his composure. “You want Ren—which so far only means beating the crap out of your Pokémon for the sake of victory and spectacle—to become the new standard, and in order to accomplish that, you are going to fight. No, DEFEAT the World Monarch, Champions, and basically the entire authority in the world such as the International Police?”
“Not necessarily,” Dorian calmly clarified. “We’ll take control of the narrative. I mean, we didn’t put any effort and Ren has become this new, exciting trend that many trainers around the world have adopted so quickly. But eventually…yes, I guess we’ll have to face most of them. And that includes Zeke too.”
“Yep. You are even more insane than I thought," Bertram chuckled incredulously at what he considered a blind, delusional and out of reach ambition. ”If she even bent under Ketchum and a stronger authority, what makes you think you have any chance of dealing with them?”
Dorian's gaze hardened, but he remained silent, letting the challenge and tension between them crackling like Zapdos’s electric field.
At the same time, Matori's mind raced as she reflected on Dorian's sudden and titanic ambition that had emerged in just a matter of days. Despite both knowing each other for only a few months, and Dorian still being an erratic and enigmatic person with a past still shrouded in secrecy, the grandiosity of his plan seemed beyond his usual capriciousness. It felt as if he had been driven or at least encouraged in key aspects, nudged towards this audacious path. The idea that someone else was behind this bold vision gnawed at her thoughts. Instantly, she thought of the culprit and turned to demand Cadmus an explanation, but to her surprise, he was not there.
"Wait a minute. Where did he…?“ she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion and urgency. Dorian and Bertram, lost in their incitement and fervor, ignored her question, leaving her uneasy and more distrustful of the old scientist's intentions.
"Still scared of Zeke, huh?" Dorian taunted the shady businessman.
"To my bones, and I'm not ashamed of admitting it," Bertram responded. "And let me tell you: I'm sure Zeke didn’t buy your death, so when she finally finds you —because I bet she will— I don't want to be near you. So... it was a nice, profitable partnership while it lasted, but good luck with your insane world-conquering campaign or whatever you want to call it. I’m out."
"Do you want to know why she put such a high price on my head?" Dorian's question halted Bertram's attempt to hang up the call, raising his right brow. Even Matori couldn't help but feel curious about the mystery behind Dorian's complicated rescue. "I discovered every little, dirty secret and weapon she keeps in her private arsenal."
"Bouffcrap…" Bertram responded, incredulous of Dorian having managed to possess what was thought to be the most valuable asset in the Underworld.
Dorian's grin widened as he shook his head, savoring the tension.
"I assure you, had she wanted it, her encounter with Ash and his gang would have been a very different story. Don't get me wrong," he clarified. "I'm certain she would have lost anyway, but the outcome would have been much, much nastier and more tragic for both sides."
Bertram gulped at Dorian's grim statement. Despite the perverse grin, the young leader didn't seem to be lying. After all, him having stolen Zeke’s deepest secrets made sense of her decision to never disclose the real reason for placing such a high bounty on Dorian's head.
"I won't lie to you. It will be difficult and require significant preparation, but if you play your cards right and seize the opportunity, you might just find yourself bearing the title of Sovereign of Shadows."
Bertram licked his lips, his stern and skeptical expression unchanging, as if he were tasting a distant dish he wasn't even sure he'd ever get to savor. Yet, the temptation and allure were so potent that, for the first time, he felt compelled to set aside his business instincts.
"Insanity must be contagious or something," Bertram nodded reluctantly. “But at the very first instinct of Zeke going after me, I’ll flee faster than a stoned Ninjask. Understood?”
"Hold on!" Matori cut in, disrupting the burgeoning alliance as she locked eyes with Dorian. "How do you plan to increase Ren's influence and presence now that the Purging Pits battles have not only been banned, but authorities will surely prevent any attempt to organize them?"
"That's true," Bertram agreed, supporting the executive's valid concern. "No spectacle, no revenue, no interest."
Far from being discouraged, Dorian's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a vision only he could see. He turned to grab his sunglasses, deactivating the projection of the photos on the wall and switching to the interface to search for a file that had previously caught his interest.
"The problem with these kinds of trends," he began, his voice dripping with confidence, "is that they quickly fade into obscurity once they are banned or their novelty wears off. And now that we can't ride the Purging Pits momentum anymore..."
He paused, letting the anticipation build as he opened the file. The screen filled with a wall of text, which then transitioned to a rotating 3D model of a dark, full-body suit. The attire displayed was a sleek ensemble, simple in design, yet somehow it radiated an air of advanced technology. What truly set it apart was the helmet—a single piece that covered the entire head. The face of the helmet was a smooth, dark amber-colored glass, unbroken and reflective, giving it an almost alien appearance. Etched onto the helmet’s front was a bold letter 'E', and below it, the name of the invention was displayed:
Expansion Suit.
Subject - Essentia
“I’ll simply have to put on a new and thrilling show. After all, battles are not the only way for Ren to thrive," Dorian concluded, grabbing a Dusk Ball from his belt and tossing it into the air, catching it again as it fell. Bertram smirked, realizing what Dorian meant with that gesture, while Matori remained stern as she also figured it out.
"Are the J-Hunters still around?" Dorian asked.
"Kind of. Though... I wouldn't call that cult for anything too significant," Bertram responded dismissively. "But considering that Pokémon Poachers are not even liked in the Underworld nowadays, you're short on options. Let me see what I can do."
With that last statement, Bertram hung up the call. The deed was done, and plotting and preparing the correct requirements for his "new show" had now taken all the young leader's attention.
There it was.
Matori felt a chill as she noticed the childish expression of wishful excitement drawn all over Dorian's face—the kind usually gestured by someone catching their first Pokémon or winning their first battle. Either Dorian's disdain for Giovanni and everything that he represented was more intense and deeply rooted than she thought, to the point he even cheered for the one who helped deal the mortal wound to Team Rocket, or there was something more perverse behind his fervent fanaticism.
"You look unusually motivated," she managed to say.
Dorian looked at her, his emerald eyes still sparkling with the thrill of the upcoming plan.
"Well, Matori. If you want to know..." he began, leaning closer with a grin that was both unnerving and captivating.
He grabbed his sunglasses again, and with a command, he projected a last picture of Ash and Serena during their reconciliation, tenderly embracing each other like newfound lovers; Pikachu perched on Ash's shoulder like a loyal companion and witness to the union. A picture taken about a year after Team Rocket's downfall, and a little more than a year before their daughter's birth.
"Ever since I was a kid surviving in the dumpsters of the Underworld, these guys have been my heroes," Dorian expressed with utmost respect as he approached the projection, extending his palm as if trying to reach them and share in the feeling. Then, he clenched his hand into a firm fist. "Knowing that it will be me to hurt this symbol on a personal, intimate level is an exhilarating dream coming true."
Matori's eyes widened, not only at Dorian's revelation but at his warm smile filled with admiration. Like a wicked Zoroark, he had masterfully masked his loathsome and twisted intentions behind a kind, affectionate face. The realization struck her hard: Cadmus had awakened something far more sinister in Dorian, something that transcended his initial ambitions. A shiver ran down her spine as she resolved to keep silent for now, vowing to uncover the dark scientist's secrets and the implications of the upcoming enterprise in their forces and the Pokémon World.
To be continued…