Unknown Location, December 13th, 1997

“Do you see the stars in the sky?”

I look with eyes that are no longer mine, and see darkness.

There are no stars in the sky, not anymore.

The world is cast in shadow.

Cast in void.

“The dark scares me too.”

But even in the void surrounding me, I feel no fear.

For I am a monster amongst monsters.

For I am a god amongst mortals.

‘a god born in tubes.’

The void flickers, and for a moment, there is light.

The light is overwhelming.

The light is gone.

I feel nothing along my skin, yet a weight settles in my bones.

I should not exist.

“But you do…”

I look around for the source of the voice - haunting, familiar, young.

I cannot find it, feeling it wash off of as water, and the void seems to darken around me.

A shadow, wreathed in flame, formed into an angel of death.

Its smile glimmered in the darkness.

Its eyes bore upon me, glinting with the malevolent light of twin crimson suns.

And the void around me began to shift.

And all around me were the sounds of chimes, lodging themselves into my ears, my eyes, my throat, suffocating me.

And all around me the void began to spiral, drawing in fields of stars that cascaded into blinding supernovas.

And though I had no mouth - no body - I screamed into the abyss.

And the abyss screamed back in a blast of chimes - a death knell - as the stars surrounding me began to erupt.

LET THERE BE LIGHTTTTTTTTTTT

Mewtwo’s eyes snapped open, and within a second, his vision was cast in a field of hazy blue.

The chamber rocked around him, the various tubes, wires, and monitors shaking with it.

Mewtwo remained still, suspended in the air - his metal cocoon - in a mad tangle of copper and tin.

The chamber rocked again, the truck carrying it driving on a mountain pass.

Giovanni hade made preparations for Mewtwo’s transport over the past month, which Mewtwo found laughable.

Mewtwo had insisted that he could arrive at their destination on his own, yet Giovanni insisted upon this banal method of transportation, citing the need for subtlety as his reason.

Mewtwo didn’t care for such pitiful things - he was the strongest pokemon in the world - but eventually relented. Besides, once Mewtwo gained enough control over his power, he could simply snap the man’s neck for his insolence.

Mewtwo was a patient god, after all.

For his journey, Giovanni had seen fit to provide Mewtwo with a live feed of the ‘Conference’ he was travelling to, along with recordings of battles waged by various individuals that would be present there.

Mewtwo had protested - surely no measly human could prove a threat to his might - but Giovanni was not swayed. Unfortunately, anything less than totalling the truck he was in would be able to turn off the monitors - reinforced as they were - and it simply wasn’t worth the hassle.

Giovanni thought he had cowed the god, made him pliable underneath a metal prison.

Mewtwo would prove the man wrong.

Just not today.

Yet, for all that it annoyed him, Mewtwo found a grim amusement in watching the recorded battles displayed on the screens surrounding him.

It was pathetic, watching the flashing lights, screaming voices, and exaggerated moves performed by the ‘ best ’ trainers of the region. He watched as Gym Leaders - the supposed masters of combat - speak so much yet do so little.

He watched as Whitney Akane flattened a challenger with her Miltank.

A mere flick of the wrist, and both the pokemon and its master would fall, their necks twisted a full 360 degrees.

He watched as Morty Matsuba command a duo of Gengar to feast upon their opponents’ dreams.

A mere glance in his direction, and the man would succumb to a nightmare inescapable.

He watched as Jasmine Aciera endured against an opponent’s onslaught, before redirecting their wrath back to them.

A mere tilt of the head, and her legion would crumble into ash and dust.

He watched as Falkner Hayato overwhelmed his opponent with aerial superiority.

A mere errant twitch, and the birds’ wings would shatter, and they would drop like stones.

He watched as Clair Blackthorne direct her dragons to scorch the earth.

A mere hum, and the beasts would be crushed into the ground, gravity pressing bone into liquid ichor.

He watched as Blaine Katsura roared alongside his pokemon, casting forth plumes of flame.

A mere passing thought, and the man’s skin would ignite, leaving nothing more than a charred carcass.

It was all terribly trivial, so much so that even the mere thought of killing them all bored Mewtwo.

They brought him no joy, no satisfaction.

No purpose.

Mewtwo drew his eyes away from the screen in disgust, turning them to a ball that lay on the ground.

It was a ball of skin.

Human skin, to be precise; pulled and twisted together from the corpses of those nameless grunts that the god had killed throughout his first few weeks of living.

If it could even be called ‘living’.

Mewtwo found an odd sort of interest in the flesh, in the lipids, proteins, and carbohydrates within, the chemical bonds of hydrogen, oxygen, and carbon.

The building blocks of life.

The same blocks that crafted him.

‘a god born in tubes.’

There were still follicles of hair dotting the mass, yet Mewtwo felt no need to remove them. Hair was a foreign idea to Mewtwo, being hairless himself.

Mew was said to have the softest little hairs in the world.

Mewtwo was born with none.

Freak.

Clone.

Monster.

Mewtwo twitched his finger, pulling apart the lingering proteins within the skin, breaking molecules into atoms before splitting atoms to rearrange quarks into other elements, destabilising errant electrons until they went cold, buzzing into the aether, and taking the new elements, funnelling the excess radiation into a pocket which was then encased in a microscopic case of lead, before splitting the new elements apart to create a gram of cyanide.

He wondered…

Mewtwo flicked a finger, and the small ball of liquid hovered before him. Mewtwo eyed it for a moment before commanding the ball of cyanide against his skin, seeping into it and spreading within his bones.

This amount of cyanide was enough to kill 50 men.

Mewtwo hummed a low tune to itself, and waited, and waited, and waited…

Mewtwo felt nothing.

Mewtwo closed his eyes, reaching out to find the poison coalescing into one of his seven lungs. Though he could breath perfectly fine without that lung - or any of them - he felt no need for it, so he purged the poison, breaking it down into quarks, and breathing the ensuing radiation out of his nostrils.

So much for cyanide being the thing to kill him.

Mewtwo flicked the ball of skin away, becoming bored of it. His attention turned back to the last of those ‘ masters ’ that Giovanni had warned him oh so much about.

Mewtwo didn’t see any difference between them and the others. Giovanni had stated Lance and Pryce as being Champion-level trainers, yet that meant nothing to the latent god.

They would fall before his might like all the others, their underlings with them.

Mewtwo was sure of it.

Mewtwo would rise against their might, casting them into oblivion, forcing them to kneel before him and declare him as God.

For what else could he be?

Mewtwo knew of no other purpose that suited him - he was the strongest pokemon in the world - and he would grasp it, no matter what.

No matter the part of his mind that asked if that was what he truly wanted.

Because there was none that could stand against him. None of the elite trainers Giovanni was so wary of, and none of those pathetic worms on the live feed before him.

Truly, they were the pinnacles of weakness, fighting with creatures as weak as Pichu and Charmander.

Mewtwo’s eyes flickered once more to the leftmost screen, showing a man in an orange three-piece suit commanding a Rhydon to victory.

Giovanni was weak; Giovanni was human.

Humanity was weak, yet their pride made them believe themselves gods.

‘We dreamed of creating the World’s Strongest Pokemon.’

‘And We Succeeded.’

Giovanni’s usefulness was nearing its end; the lessons taught by the man useful, but learned.

The man would fall with all the rest.

It was almost amusing, in a cruel, dark way that sent shivers up the god’s spine, how the man’s pride would prove to be his mortal folly.

To think that the man believes he can control a god.

Yes, the man had taught Mewtwo much in a short time, but Mewtwo was never one to retain a tumour.

And that was what the man was.

A tumour.

For it was man’s hubris to believe that they could command a god.

It was man’s hubris to believe that they could create one.

And above every other lesson Mewtwo had learned from humankind, it was how to avoid their most fatal flaw.

Pride.

For he was a god, and with a power such as his, nothing could hope to compare.

For he was a monster amongst monsters.

A god amongst mortals.

And in his quest for power - for domination - for purpose…

None would stop him.

None.

…

Training Salle, Athlete’s Village, Silver Town, December 15th, 1997

“Stop.”

Red’s voice was firm, and a moment later, Charmander dislodged his jaw out of Feraligatr’s tail, prompting a slightly pained snarl from the beast as crackles of residual electricity dissipated into the air.

Red brought a hand to his chin, thinking to himself as Charmander puffed a haughty set of blue flames into Feraligatr’s face. The crocodile seemed to be restraining itself from lurching forward to attack the smaller lizard, with Salvare’s face going tight on the other end of their fledgeling bond.

Red tilted his head up, silently commanding Salvare’s attention, “What went wrong in that battle?”

Salvare looked away in thought for a moment, reaching up to pat Feraligatr’s side, before turning back to Red, “We focused too much on strength, sacrificing dexterity for it. It allowed your Charmander to outmanoeuvre us in close-quarters combat.”

Red nodded, “Good,” He walked closer, examining Charmander’s scales - which only bore surface-level wounds - “Now… what did I do wrong in this encounter?”

Salvare blinked before quickly going back into thought, “...You were too reckless?” Salvare paused for a moment before straightening, “You went for physical attacks too early, where you could have whittled down Feraligatr from afar.”

Red nodded once more, a small, hidden smile forming behind his hand, “Good observation, and partially true,” Red watched as Salvare’s lips twitched in satisfaction, “You’re right that, should this had been a normal battle, I should have started off by keeping my distance,” - Though, Charmander was currently training for physical combat, which was why they went close-quarters - “Another mistake I made was when you made the Aqua Armour . The water coating Feraligatr would have allowed Charmander’s Thunder Fang to do far more damage, but I forgot to use it until after the armour dissipated,” Red paused before adding, “I liked the original move, by the way.”

Salvare glowed at Red’s praise, which was largely genuine. He did forget to take advantage of Feraligatr’s temporary weakness to electricity, mainly because it was his first time seeing Salvare’s Aqua Armour in action, and Red had a brief surge of pride that distracted him.

He would have to remain vigilant in the future, though.

He couldn’t start slipping now.

Red crossed his arms, turning his attention back to Salvare, “How’s your bond with Feraligatr holding up?”

Salvare blinked, “Oh, it’s…” Salvare paused, gathering his thoughts at the sudden question, “It’s going well, I suppose?” Salvare shrugged, “It doesn’t feel all that different to how we usually fight, so…”

Red raised an eyebrow - it sounded like Salvare and Feraigatr had always fought while bonded, and didn’t even realise it - but responded in a calm manner, “We can try figuring that out later on. Right now,” Red began to walk back to his side of the arena, Charmander following behind him, “I want to see this battle play out. Keep in mind our mistakes.”

Salvare nodded, “Alright,” before sidling up to Feraligatr to whisper out a new plan of attack.

Red kneeled down to the do the same with Charmander, who peered up at him with narrowed, triangular eyes, “You did well last match, given that we limited ourselves to physical moves. This time, I want to try something else,” Red sidled to cover Charmander from Salvare’s view, “Can you do a small Dragon Breath ?”

Charmander eyed Red in mild confusion for a moment before puffing out a small ember of sparkling draconic energy, flickering with small blue flames that felt both hot and cold.

Red nodded to himself, mind churning in thought, “...Alright. Here’s what I want you to do…”

Charmander’s eyes narrowed as Red began to explain his idea, though it was more in interest than outright doubt. After his idea, Red locked eyes with the small dragon - his triangular eyes glinting an almost-red amber - before rising onto his feet at Charmander’s nod.

Red turned back to Salvare, who also finished discussing whatever plan he had with Feraligatr, “Are you ready?”

At Salvare’s affirmation, Red raised his voice, “Basic rules of engagement. The battle ends upon a pokemon fainting or remaining subdued for more than five seconds. Begin.”

“ Aqua Jet! ” Salvare yelled out immediately, starting off with what Red considered his signature move.

Although, since Feraligatr evolved, they had been unable to achieve the same feats of flight that Croconaw was capable of - not for lack of trying .

This was not to say the move was any less effective though, because Feraligatr was fast.

All the same, Red remained calm, staying silent as Charmander defended against the attack with a Protect , before rolling away with a Fire Spin .

While the move itself was offensive in nature, it could be used as a defensive shield in a pinch.

As Feraligatr began to shoot forward in another Aqua Jet , this time priming up an Aqua Tail alongside it, Charmander flattened onto all fours, scuttling underneath Feraligatr as it shot over him.

Frogadier’s exercises in dexterity seemed to be helping Charmander.

Red opened his mouth for the first time in the match, “ Scary Face! ”

Charmander obeyed without question, pulling his face into a monstrous snarl just as Feraligatr turned to growl at the smaller beast.

Red prepared for another attempt at an Aqua Jet , only for Salvare to yell out, “ Mud Sport! ”

It seemed Salvare was preparing for Thunder Fang.

Red didn’t allow himself to linger for long, “ Hone Claws. Keep your distance,” Charmander seemed somewhat disgruntled at having to keep away from his opponent, “Remember the plan.”

Salvare paused to eye Red for a moment before yelling out with a triumphant gleam in his eye, “ Aqua Armour , then use Earthquake! ”

Red raised an eyebrow - Salvare taught Feraligatr Earthquake? - but didn’t grow any more worried, “Do it.”

Just as Feraligatr began to slam its feet onto the ground - causing an admittedly impressive Earthquake - Charmander leaped upwards with a Flame Charge , vaulting over Feraligatr before grappling onto its tail.

Now for the fun to begin.

In a mimickry of their battle minutes ago, Feraligatr began to shake its tail in an attempt to get Charmander off - which wasn’t aided by it having to balance on shaking ground. Meanwhile, Charmander latched onto it with a determined Bite , infusing draconic energy into his claws to tear at Feraligatr’s tail.

Before long, Feraligatr figured out how to fling Charmander away with Aqua Tail , Shooting forth a Water Pulse to intercept Charmander in the air.

Deciding to take a page out of Salvare’s book - which he felt no remorse for - Red spoke out in a calm tone, “ Flame Charge away. Stick to the plan.”

Red allowed himself a small amount of satisfaction at Salvare’s wide-eyed surprise upon seeing Charmander spiral through the air as a flaming dart. Though it was inspired by Croconaw’s previous use of Aqua Jet , Charmander lacked the skill and grace that the crocodile had acquired after months perfecting the move.

Still, given that it had only been upwards of three days since Red and Charmander first started using the move, the dragon retained a remarkable amount of control while careening through the air.

Red believed that Charmander took to the move so well due to his decade’s worth of experience in flying.

Salvare came back to his senses after a few moments of the flying lizard, sharply yelling out, “ Ice Beam! Use it on the armour!”

Red silently commended Salvare for the creative application of moves, but it wouldn’t be enough. In all honesty, Red was largely holding himself back to allow time for Red to see Salvare’s improvements.

Red decided that he had seen enough, and raised his voice, “Go in for the kill, Charmander.”

The ball of flame surrounding Charmander dissipated, allowing the lizard to land on the torn battlefield. He locked eyes with Red for a moment - pulsating in Madness - before turning a gleeful snarl towards Feraligatr.

Salvare eyed Red in suspicion for a moment before deciding to take the plunge, “ Aqua Jet! Take him out!”

Feraligatr’s teeth barred as it summoned jets of water from its hands and feet, propelling it forward for it to grab the small lizard in a chokehold.

Charmander did not resist.

Red waited until Feraligatr opened its jaw, preparing for a point-blank Water Pulse , before shouting out, “NOW!”

On command, Charmander opened his mouth, blasting a monstrous Dragon Pulse straight into Feraligatr’s mouth, causing the beast to stumble back in pain.

Charmander wriggled out of the crocodile’s grip, bursting forth another rippling Dragon Pulse against Feraligatr’s stomach, shattering the frozen armour lining its scales.

As Feraligatr recovered from two back-to-back Dragon Pulses - which were the result of Charmander holding them in for the past several minutes, as Red planned - Charmander began to beat his fists against his chest, eyes narrowing into glowing slits as the Belly Drum took effect.

By this point, Red took a step back, allowing Charmander to fight on his own.

He had allowed time for Salvare to demonstrate his improvements.

Now it was time for Charmander to do the same.

Just as Feraligatr reoriented itself, Charmander slammed a Thunder Punch into its stomach, causing the beast to stumble back. However, the Mud Sport from earlier dampened the worst of the damage, doing more to anger the crocodile than truly harm it.

Of course, Red could see in Charmander’s eyes that the dragon didn’t care one bit.

Feraligatr retaliated with a surprisingly quick Slash , nicking the edge of Charmander’s scales. The smaller beast didn’t seem to feel it, though, instead growling lowly to himself as he sidestepped another Slash , before clocking his opponent across the jaw with another Thunder Punch .

Feraligatr moved with the impact, spinning around with an Aqua Tail , forcing Charmander to jump, blasting back a compact Ember to dissipate the crocodile’s subsequent Water Gun into steam.

The concussive force of the blast knocked Charmander back, skidding across the battlefield on all fours. Less than a second later, Feraligatr burst through the cloud of steam, eyes crazed as it slammed against the dragon with Aqua Jet.

Red gazed calmly as Charmander Endured the hit, planting his feet on the ground, before then using the momentum to grip the crocodile, vaulting it over his head in a heavy Seismic Toss .

The Feraligatr was dazed for a moment, but was quickly recovering. Red took the moment to glance at Salvare, noting his protege’s hopeful look quickly falling, before looking back to find Charmander on top of the fallen crocodile, jaw lodged against Feraligatr’s throat, small sparks of electricity crackling into the air.

No-one moved… and five seconds passed, signalling Red and Charmander as the victors.

Red called the match, prompting Charmander to detach his jaw from Feraligatr’s neck, drawing out a small trail of blood.

Instead of being cowed by the sight - like most other pokemon would - Feraligatr seemed to find the wound as a challenge, growling lowly at the smug Charmander as it lumbered onto its feet, supported by Salvare.

Red walked across the arena, glancing for a moment at Charmander’s wounds - none of which were major - before opening his mouth to address his protege.

He was cut off on his first syllable, though, as Karen reached Salvare before him, apparently having been watching the battle, “That was great , Salvare!”

Salvare blinked in mild astonishment, but quickly grimaced, giving an uncertain hand gesture towards Feraligatr, “I mean- Feraligatr did just fine. I just didn’t do quite so well with my strategy.”

Karen’s smile tugged a bit downwards, though she kept it largely in place as she crossed her arms, “You’re fighting against Red , kid. Your strategy was fine.”

“She’s not entirely wrong,” Red butted in, turning Salvare’s eyes to him, “You and Feraligatr did very well, all things considered. I’m also rather impressed with your improvements in using creative applications for your moves.”

Salvare’s lips twitched upwards before he sighed, “Thanks, Red. And you too, Karen,” He flicked his eyes to her before narrowing them at Charmander, who glared back from behind Red’s leg, “It’s still kinda sad that I still haven’t beaten you once .”

Red’s face grew pinched, though he tried to shrug the uncomfortable feeling away, “My pokemon and I have been fighting for years,” He crossed his arms, directing a hard look at his protege, “Right now, my focus is on helping you improve, and I say you have , by a lot .”

Salvare’s face lit up slowly as Red’s words set in, his mouth widening into a small, but genuine smile, “Well… It’s only because I have such a good teacher.”

In that moment, Red thanked the fledgeling level of control he had attained over his expressions from Herren’s training, because that felt genuinely touching.

Arceus above, he cared for Salvare’s opinion of him.

Red was able to reply after a few moments, “A teacher can only give as much as a student wishes to learn,” He smirked down at Salvare, “Let’s just call it a mutual victory.”

“Alright, we get it! You’re both great,” Karen tugged on Salvare’s sleeve, eyes going wide in a - failed - attempt at innocence, “Can I see Absol again?”

Salvare rolled his eyes in tandem with Red - though only Karen noticed - unclipping a greatball from his belt, “You act like she’s your pokemon.”

Red silently retreated as Karen began to hem and haw over the Absol - saying something about the unfairness of the universe for not giving her one - beckoning Charmander off to the side to speak with the small dragon.

Though, despite still being relatively small compared to Red’s height, Charmander had grown a few inches over the past couple of weeks, with some of his scales darkening to an almost-black colour.

Red wasn’t entirely certain what these changes meant, though he - and the others - hoped that it was a sign of upcoming evolution.

He almost wished that he could ask Clair about it, given her expansive knowledge on all things dragon. She had been an invaluable source for Charmander’s new(ish) form, when she wasn’t stumbling over herself for no discernable reason.

Bringing himself back to the present, Red crouched down next to Charmander to recheck his injuries. Upon seeing nothing that required a potion, Red took out some basic medical supplies, and began to patch up Charmander as he spoke, “You did well out there.”

Charmander puffed out a small cloud of smoke, tilting his head up as if to ask ‘was it ever in doubt?’

Red smiled softly to himself at that response, “It wasn’t in doubt, but it had to be said,” Red tilted his head in thought, “The Dragon Pulses worked better than I expected.”

Charmander only managed to look smugger, prompting a small chuckle from Red, “I’m not complaining, especially after months of only using Ember .”

Red’s laughter only grew as Charmander grumbled, disgruntled at having the majority of his firepower snuffed out, “Hey, it’s not all bad,” Red smile twisted into something sardonic, “If nothing else, it helps with accuracy. And if it stays that way…” Red’s expression nearly falls, but he keeps his smile - for Charmander’s sake - “We’ll make do. We always do. ”

Charmander met Red’s eyes for several moments - blazing in triangular slits - before breaking them off, staring aimlessly past Red before locking onto something with an intense glare.

Having kept a mental picture of the salle and its users in his mind, Red knew who was in the direction of Charmander’s glare, and sighed, “I know, Charmander. I know.”

Though Red didn’t turn back to see what - or rather, who - Charmander was glaring at, he could picture him in his mind.

Paul Shinji.

Red had been… lucky thus far, having kept away from anyone he knew well as Ash.

Oh, sure, he interacted with the Gym Leaders, Professor Elm, and Lance, all of whom he had known as Ash, but none of them had ever been anything more than passing acquaintances.

Paul was different. While they had only been acquaintances - at best - before the Storm, afterwards…

Paul had been the one to convince Cynthia to allow Ash to create the gravesite for the first of their fallen friends.

Not even three months later, and Ash had buried them both, as honourable allies.

As trusted friends.

The early days of the Storm had been, perhaps, the most trying. The world had been crumbling rapidly, both literally and spiritually, with every day seemingly marking the fall of another region, another fighter, another legendary.

It had forced them to survive together, locking away any previous grievances or drama because that would simply get them killed.

It didn’t save them in the end…

But it was terribly beautiful while it lasted, that sense of comradery in the face of oblivion.

Yet, when Red glanced at the Paul of today, he didn’t - couldn’t - see the same man he had relied upon and who had relied upon him.

He saw a thirteen-year old child with dreams of grandeur.

It was… enlightening , to see the differences between the child-Paul and the Paul who had been his friend.

It was Maddening.

Of course, Charmander didn’t quite seem to think of it in the same way, a low growl erupting from his throat.

Red crossed his arms, sending a severe glare down at the dragon, “No attacking the child, Charmander. You’re better than that.”

Charmander cast his glare up at Red before turning away with an aggravated huff.

Red sighed to himself. While any grievances he may have once had with Paul no longer bothered him, Charmander was far more capable at holding a grudge than Red ever was. And considering how close Charizard and Infernape had been…

It wasn’t that much of a surprise that Charmander still retained a lingering distaste for the boy.

Which was typical . Infernape had stopped being bothered with Paul’s presence, usually choosing to calmly move away whenever the man was near. Charizard, meanwhile, had taken it upon himself to hold resentment against Paul.

This usually came in the form of intimidating the man away whenever he came near.

Admittedly, it worked out rather well, given that no-one in their right mind would cross a towering, fire-breathing dragon.

Red patted Charmander on the head, “You know, time-wise, he hasn’t even caught Chimchar yet.”

Charmander froze before casting a pleading look at Red, eyes blown wide in some terrible mixture of astonishment and excitement.

He thought that they could find Chimchar before Paul, and bring him into the fold once again.

He could have his brother back, after years of mourning his death…

And Red understood… both in Charmander’s plea and in its appeal.

But he couldn’t allow it.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Red didn’t try to smile, locking eyes with the small dragon, “You know how cruel that would be…” He pressed Charmander against him in a rough hug - hidden away in an alcove at the salle - as the dragon let out a small mewl, “We’d only doom him to the same fate as last time… And we’re here to prevent that, for all of them.”

Red’s eyes stared out to the salle, watching the various people training and talking and laughing.

He watched as Paul trained with his pokemon, bearing an innocent look on his face that was gone by the time Ash had met him.

He watched as Karen fawn over Salvare’s Absol, the shadows of her aura sizzling in a happiness that clashed with her fury just months prior.

He watched as Salvare walked among his pokemon, speaking to each of them with an liveliness to his steps that had been nonexistent in Judgement.

Red watched, reminding himself once more just why he kept on going, kept on living , even when he had been ready for it to end atop Mount Silver.

Red’s eyes glimmered crimson, and a hushed whisper - a hushed reminder - left his lips.

“For all of them.”

…

Athlete’s Village Inn, Silver Town

“Anything interesting?”

Red grunted at Karen’s question, scrolling down the Battlenet page showing the various posts and discussions about one ‘Red Satoshi’.

It was vaguely amusing, seeing the arguments and theories the random people on the pokenet had over him.

It was vaguely disconcerting, knowing that the same was likely being done by the leaders of Team Source.

Karen hummed from behind Red, leaning forward to gaze at a particular thread centred around Pichu, and people’s astonishment at his partner’s abilities.

Red kept his silence, as did Karen, both of them sitting side by side as he slowly scrolled down the various discussions over his pokemon, appearance, origins, sexual appeal (to which Red rolled his eyes), etc.

Red’s hair rustled as Pichu moved in his sleep, curled up on the top of Red’s head. In the edge of his vision, Red glimpsed a small, fleeting smile from Karen, before it slowly dwindled away.

She didn’t frown, or scowl - like she used to whenever they were next to each other - instead watching Red in the corner of her eye, assessing him for something he did not know.

But he did suspect.

“You have a question - or questions - for me,” Red stated, still facing the computer screen.

He felt, rather than saw, Karen slump back, “Was it that obvious?”

Red grunted, rubbing his eyes of crust - he hadn’t been sleeping very well - and replied in a slightly gravelly voice, “You’ve never been very subtle.”

“Wow, rude,” Karen deadpanned, though her voice seemed more tired than genuinely angered. She remained silent for several seconds before breathing out in a low tone, “Salvare’s started writing a journal.”

Red paused, turning his head to eye Karen for a moment before nodding to himself, “That’s… good? I like journals.”

He had written plenty himself during the Storm, to keep him sane.

Of course, most of them had been lost in one battle or another…

Karen seemed to find his admittedly unsure response amusing, snorting softly to herself, “Of course you do,” She eyes him for a moment, a small, sly smile gracing her lips, “Don’t suppose you have one of your own?”

“I had several,” Red replied without thinking, pausing for a moment as his words registered in his mind, before reasoning to himself that it meant little, “They’ve been destroyed, though.”

Karen raised an interested eyebrow, though she quickly schooled her features, responding in a smooth tone, “Another casualty of your war?”

The words came out so naturally that Red nearly responded without thinking. It was only when he opened his mouth that they registered in his mind, causing his mouth to clamp shut.

He kept his eyes focused but unseeing on the computer screen, forcing away the thought of what Karen’s face looked like at his reaction, whether it showed satisfaction or guilt.

He breathed in slowly, banking the fires of his aura - it was becoming far easier to manage, but still turbulent - “What do you mean by that?”

He heard Karen lean back into her chair, “...Back in Azalea, you mentioned a war…” Her tone softened, though remained steady, “I want to know what you meant by that.”

Red clenched his fist - out of Karen’s sight; he didn’t intend on harming her - and breathed out, “It’s complicated.”

He expected Karen to snap at that non-answer - like she would have in the past - allowing Red to escape further questions in the wake of her anger. Yet, all he heard was a mildly aggravated sigh, “Then make it simple .”

Red closed his eyes, and cursed his past self for having mentioned such a thing in the first place, and opened them - a flicker of crimson drowned out by the screen’s light - “I fought. I lost… That is all.”

Red still faced away from Karen, hearing her suck in a breath, before breathing out, “That tells me next to nothing, Red,” Karen pauses for a moment, then her voice becomes sharp, “And what do you mean lost ? You’re still alive.”

Red huffed, not finding it in himself to feel anything other than grim humour at that statement, “There’s plenty other definitions of losing a war,” Red turned to regard Karen - who was frowning - staring at her with tired eyes, “Losing one’s life is among the most merciful.”

Karen gazed at Red for several moments, silently attempting to pick him apart in ways he knew wouldn’t work, before stating, “You lost others… Friends, family…” An unknown emotion settled within her eyes, though she rapidly blinked it away, “That’s why you were scared… Scared of us sticking with you.”

Red fought off a scowl, tapping an agitated finger on the adjacent table, “Your point?”

Karen didn’t acknowledge Red’s annoyed tone, instead steepling her fingers with a poised calm, “You don’t have to worry about losing us, Red,” - Her eyes are earnest, and it scares him - “We’re strong. We can keep ourselves alive.”

Red’s lips twitched, forming into a joyless smile - Paul and the others were strong, but only he could ever compare to the Chariot . Still, a small part of Red - buried under years of grief and cold practicality - shined a weak light at her words.

He didn’t deserve their friendship.

Red sighed, rubbing his eyes, “While I do appreciate your… confidence. You don’t need to worry yourselves,” He dropped his hand, his eyes losing their minute glow, “I have it handled.”

“Right,” Karen drawled, disbelief evident in her tone, “Because your chipper attitude screams ‘having it handled’.”

“Allow me to deal with my own demons, Karen,” Red stated, turning his head away, “And I’ll let you deal with yours.”

Karen huffed, crossing her arms with a mock sneer, “Highly presumptuous of you to say I have demons, Red.”

Red raised a single brow at her, silently conveying his disbelief at the statement. After a moment, Karen uncrossed her arms with a muttered, “Jackass.”

Red tapped a single finger, and in the same tone as her, impulsively responded, “Bitch.”

Red’s eyes widened as he said it - said it without thinking you utter numbskull! - only to widen them further as Karen coughed, grasping the table to keep herself from keeling over.

Red closed his eyes, silently berating himself for burning any possibility of them having a cordial relationship, when he heard Karen’s coughs turn into gasping laughter.

She found it funny…

Red opened his eyes to stare at her, bewildered as she gasped out, “Holy shit, Red! Warn a lady before you say that!”

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Red was still experiencing something akin to silent shock, but somehow found it in him to snark back, “Highly presumptuous of you to say you’re a lady -”

Karen slapped his arm, tears gathering in her eyes as her laughs turned into slightly pained hiccups, “Stop, Red! You’re fuckin’ killing me!”

Red raised a slightly concerned eyebrow - it wasn’t that funny; honestly, it wasn’t funny at all - and stopped.

Once Karen calmed herself down enough to breathe properly, Red straightened, “I’m sorry for-”

“ Don’t, ” Karen snapped a hand up, her voice suddenly far more serious than before, “Don’t fucking apologise, Red,” Karen leaned back, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes, “I’ve called you plenty of bad shit, Red. You’ve earned the right to do the same to me.”

“That doesn’t make it right, ” Red hissed, though his anger wasn’t directed towards Karen, “I’d rather not call a friend that.”

Karen blinked, eyes becoming strangely wide, “You consider me a friend?”

Red narrowed his eyes at her - was she actually surprised at that? - “Yes? I’d hardly let just anyone invade my personal space like you’re doing now.”

Their chairs were pressed together, after all, resulting in them being very close to one another.

…Red was surprisingly comfortable with her presence, however aggravating she could be.

Karen hummed, eyes no longer widened, but still retaining some mixture of surprise and doubt, “You hardly act like it.”

Red rolled his eyes, “I’m sorry, did you want me to proclaim to the world that Karen Mela is my friend?” - Ash would have - “Trust me, if you weren’t a friend, I wouldn’t even be entertaining this conversation.”

Karen still seemed to be processing Red’s ‘revelation’ - was it that surprising - only to lean forward with a challenging glint in her eye, “Well, if friendship is all about trust , then why don’t you trust me to help you?”

Red snorted - again, hardly subtle - and shot back, a touch more hotly than before, “Why don’t you trust me to deal with it? ”

Karen narrowed her eyes, though remained silent for a few seconds as she leaned back, regarding Red with a lidded stare, “...And how long will that take?”

Red blinked, not having expected the question, nor having any real answer.

Apparently, his lack of answer shown on his face, as Karen sighed, “How about this…” Karen seemed to mull over her words, “If, say, in a year’s time, you’re still worrying yourself over this perceived enemy of yours, you let me - us - help you.”

This time, Red couldn’t fight off the scowl, “I fucking wish I could end it within a year.”

“Whatever the case,” Karen waved his grumbled words away, though the interest in her eyes told him she filed away his words, “Until that time… I won’t bother you about your problems.”

Red paused in his dark thoughts, turning a mildly bemused eyebrow in her direction, “You’re making a bargain with me?”

“Nah,” Karen waved a hand away, “If anything, you’re making a bargain with me. ”

“Sure,” Red drawled, turning his eyes to the distance as he began to mull over Karen’s deal.

Preferably, Karen - and Salvare - would keep themselves away from Team Source, preventing them from being caught in the crossfire between his war against the organisation. However, knowing them both, he wouldn’t be terribly surprised if they stumbled upon it on their own, whether it by from sticking with Red in Salvare’s case, or by being roped into his agreement with Lance in Karen’s case.

Red didn’t like it, but the practical option was to agree to Karen’s deal.

It wasn’t as if Team Source would remain hidden.

After all, Karen’s deal only said that she would help Red, which said nothing about her learning about his origins.

He would rather like to keep that to himself for as long as possible.

So, after a minute’s consideration, Red sighed out, “I accept.”

Karen sat up, “Really?”

At Red’s nod, she slumped back with a relieved sigh, “...Thank you… for your trust, I mean.”

Red turned a lethargic eye to her - he was really tired - and muttered back, “Thank you for yours.”

Karen responded with a small smile, leaning back as she blowed an errant hair from her forehead, “Also, just to let you know, the deal extends to Salvare, if he doesn’t find out first.”

Red almost argued on instinct, before thinking on it for a moment, causing him to give a wary nod, “Fair enough.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, finding a surprising amount of comfort in the other’s company.

Eventually, Karen grunted out in a tired yawn, “You know, Salvare’s willin’ to follow you to hell and back, no matter how dangerous it may be.”

Red frowned, resting a fist against his cheek, “I rather doubt that.”

“I’m serious,” Karen replied, her tone becoming more solid as she stared the same direction as Red, “I can see it in his eyes, Red. He adores you.”

“He shouldn’t,” Red mumbled, unseeing eyes bearing upon the young corpse of Judgement, “I’ve done terrible things.”

Karen turned her head to regard Red with an uncharacteristically solemn gaze, “And I highly doubt such things were done lightly…” She sighed, standing up from her seat, “It’s getting late.”

Red checked the clock on the wall, “...Nearly past midnight.” He turned back to find Karen standing before him with a severe expression.

Karen stared down at him, and her eyes softened a touch, “I know you have your own demons, Red. I don’t know what, but I know you have them,” She sighed, looking nearly as tired as he always felt, “...I can accept that you want to deal with it yourself. I don’t agree with it, but I can accept it,” She paused, pinning Red with a hard stare, “But you have to promise me, Red - both for yourself and Salvare - that you won’t let it consume you.”

Red remained silent for several moments in the face of that question.

Eventually… two words pass his lips.

“I promise.”

He does not know whether or not it is a lie.

And by the look on her face, Karen can see his uncertainty.

She doesn’t comment on it, instead nodding her head, “Have a good night, Red,” She turned, heading off towards her room, “I’ll be rooting for you tomorrow.”

…

Silver Stadium, Silver Town, December 16th, 1997

There were far too many people.

The thought filtered through Red’s mind as he stepped onto his podium, pinching his fingers against his hat to hide his eyes from the world.

There was far too much noise.

Red met the edge of the podium, gripping it as he willed the errant noise around the stadium into nothing more than a humming din.

There was far too much screaming.

Red had acclimated - or as much as he could - to the level of excitement people found in these events, and how they translated to cheers and screams. He still couldn’t help but inwardly flinch every time he heard it, but he was adjusting…

Still, if it meant the screaming would end sooner, he would rather end this quickly.

The announcer’s speech washed over him as he directed a single eye - glowing crimson - to his opponent - his first within the Finals.

The young man - maybe slightly younger than him - stood tall, with a heavy set frame that spoke less of lethargy and more of grit. He smiled confidently - arrogantly - as he waved to the crowd, basking in their support.

Most challengers he could’ve faced would have found him intimidating - not as a threat to their person, but to their chances in the League.

Ash would have found him exciting, seeing him as the perfect opportunity to show the growth of both himself and his pokemon, even if only to themselves.

Red… found him boring. The man was strong, yes, but he was uninspired in battle. In any other year, he would have had a rather solid shot at winning the Conference, but with other trainers like Karen and Salvare - and, hell, even Paul - he would only prove to be an obstacle to be surpassed.

A rather large obstacle, yes, but nothing more.

Red wanted to be done with this by the end of the hour.

“Contestants!” Red raised his head at the announcer’s shout - Pichu hopped from his shoulder onto the podium - “The Arena is about to be set!”

Red blinked slowly, then registered that his podium began to rise, overlooking the battlefield as it began to morph into a random arena type.

The audience’s volume rose in anticipation as the arena shifted between a grassy plain to a volcanic fissure. Bubble of magma rose before cooling into heated rock, split down the middle as an icy river bisected the arena, which had shifted to a facsimile of a frigid summit, specks of dust and ice lining the scant patches of moss that dotted the arena.

Intellectually, Red could appreciate the technology and showmanship behind the arena. It was rather remarkable how it shifted into different biomes . Still, he couldn’t help but find it lacking.

After fighting the Conduit at the summit of the Storm, a simple mountain river was tame in comparison.

Red shook the thought away, raising a single eye as the announcer bellowed, “This match is Round One of the Finals, pitting Red Satoshi against Anthony Sobrana!” - Ah, so that was his name? Red hadn’t cared to learn beforehand - “This will be a Full Battle, with no switching being allowed after a pokemon faints!” The crowd roared in anticipation, and Red could practically hear the smile in the announcer’s next words, “Let out your pokemon, and the battle will begin at the bell!”

At the announcer’s command, Red locked eyes with Pichu, nodding to one another before Pichu turned and hopped off of the raised podium.

Red was distantly thankful that the podium wasn’t too high, since he didn’t doubt Pichu would jump off even if it was several stories in the air.

Red raised a bored eye to their opponent’s pokemon - a small, unassuming Larvitar - though it quickly sharpened at the sound of a chime from above, signalling the start of the match - finally - “ Surf! ”

“WHAT!” Sobrana’s astonished yell brought Red life . The man quickly recovered though, enough to keep an even head as Pichu dashed into the water, with it beginning to rise in his attack, “Larvitar, Dig away!”

Red smirked - intimidation at its finest - watching as Larvitar scrambled underground, “Stop the Surf , and set the stage.”

Pichu let out a satisfied growl, quickly hopping away from the small wave he had created - which technically counted as a Surf, just a very weak one . Sobrana seemed to realise he had been tricked as Pichu began to run around the battlefield, small spark trailing him as afterimages began to split off, all bearing the same mischievous - devilish - grin.

Sobrana commanded Larvitar to use Stone Edge underground, sending up spikes of rock against the rapidly multiplying copies of Pichu.

Red sat it out, idly tapping a finger as Pichu dodged and weaved between shards of stone - almost leisurely.

It wasn’t so long ago that Pikachu had done the same for multiple Tyranitar at once.

And unlike Sobrana’s Larvitar, they had been out for blood.

Red only allowed it to continue, watching as Pichu became faster and more plentiful, combining the use of Double Team and Agility to devastating effect.

Though, the extent of that was yet to be seen.

Sobrana’s face flickered in some form of annoyance, having obviously underestimated Pichu’s ability, “Get up and use Sandstorm! ”

Red tilted his head, briefly wondering if Sandstorm would even hinder them.

Sure, two of Sobrana’s pokemon had Sand Veil, which could be annoying, but the damage it normally does to non-earth-based types…

Honestly, after the Source Storm, a mere Sandstorm was nothing.

Red’s lips twisted into a cruel smile - his eyes flickered with darkened shades of crimson - “Wait until after it’s done, Pichu, then end it.”

It wasn’t much longer until Larvitar successfully called forth the Sandstorm , at which point Sobrana could do nothing but watch as the various afterimages of Pichu coalesced into one being, before shooting forward in a spiralling Volt Tackle .

Red watched disinterestedly as Larvitar fainted, possessing too few defences to sustain more than a single powerful strike.

To be fair, it was just a baby.

Though, Pichu was technically a baby pokemon too, so, actually, Red felt there was no excuse.

As Sobrana recalled Larvitar, Red glanced at his watch - eight minutes passed - scrunching his nose at the time wasted.

With a sigh, Red turned his head back to the arena as Sobrana called out his next pokemon, drawling in a bored tone, “ Baton Pass. ”

Much to everyone’s - excepting Red and his friends - surprise, Pichu dissipated into light, being sucked into his pokeball, only to spit back out immediately, biting Red’s wrist with a glare.

Red would apologise to him later for that, but right now he just wanted to finish up the battle.

Right now, though, he directed his attention back to the arena, where Frogadier now stood across from a Bronzong.

Red hummed at Sobrana’s choice - he had likely planned on countering Pichu by manipulating the arena - and tapped a single finger on the podium, “ Taunt. ”

That would prevent Sobrana from setting up further.

Given that the numerous Agilities carried over with Pichu’s Baton Pass - which said rodent was visibly proud of - Frogadier easily outsped the already slow Bronzong, preventing Sobrana’s command of, “ Gravity! ” from taking effect.

Red could distantly hear the announcer rapidly jabbering about what he and Sobrana - mainly he - were doing, and ignored it to the best of his ability, instead shifting his body to the side as he opened his bond with Frogadier, “ Night Slash. ”

Red would have to find Falkner one of these days and thank the man, because their fight had prepared him for League-battles far more than every other Gym Leader combined.

Falkner had shown him that brute strength could only take him so far.

It was a lesson Ash had learned on his journey as a trainer, then had forgotten in the Storm.

Tricks like Double Team or Baton Pass didn’t work against the Conduit, or the Chariot.

But in official battles?

Tricks reigned supreme, as Frogadier surrounded Bronzong’s enraged form as a whirlwind, multiple copies twisting in and out with afterimages of darkened blades that sliced into its metal hull.

Red couldn’t help but recall their battle against the Conduit, and how they had employed similar - if blunter - tactics then.

However, whereas the Conduit had been a very real threat…

Bronzong was a footnote in an already won battle, and fell within three minutes of the onslaught, managing only a minor headache on Red in retaliation.

Given that Red’s chronic migraine was worse, he thought it was a fair trade.

Sobrana was red-faced by this point - two pokemon down, and Red’s pokemon bore only scuff marks - and threw his next pokeball with a loud yell, “Marowak, Retaliate! ”

Red raised a mildly impressed eyebrow - he was honestly surprised that he taught his pokemon that move - and grit his teeth as he endured the move alongside Frogadier, before Countering with a punch of their own.

Red straightened as he disengaged the bond, watching as Marowak was slammed back against a boulder, small cracks shattering into its skull-piece.

Red’s hand throbbed in pain, but he could live with it. Frogadier, meanwhile, was shaking from Marowak’s attack.

Red tilted his head for a moment, a stray thought filtering into his mind - he was fairly certain Sobrana’s Marowak had Lightning Rod - and spoke in a calm tone, “ U-Turn .”

In the back of his mind, Red could register Sobrana’s cry of frustration as Frogadier bopped into Marowak before being recalled as Pichu once more took to the arena.

Sobrana had the appropriate amount of wariness at Pichu’s arrival, and responded appropriately, “ Stomping Tantrum! ”

Red snorted at the desperation, tapping his finger once more on the podium as he commanded, “ Thunder Pulse .”

Red reigned his aura in, synchronising it with Pichu’s as they began the move together. Sobrana seemed to find the move itself baffling, given his confused spluttering before commanding, “ Sandstorm !”

Really dedicated with that Sandstorm, huh?

Red didn’t care, because the Thunder Pulses were beginning to have an effect on the Marowak - which would rapidly grow more poignant due to it having Lightning Rod . As the Marowak finished calling forth the storm, the signs of Pichu’s move was starting to show, as sparks fizzled across its body as it tried to move forward.

Key word: tried.

It was an interesting difference to see how Thunder Pulse affected Marowak differently than any other opponent Red had faced. Back when they had used it against Jasmine’s Steelix, it had taken a small while for it to actually have an effect. Due to Marowak’s ability, though, it fell far sooner.

Specifically, Marowak fell around 19 minutes into the match, marking the start of the ten-minute intermission.

It was rather obvious that the announcer was struck speechless at this record.

For his own part, Red simply stood, and waited, tapping an impatient finger on the podium. Pichu - who was trotting around the arena as if he owned it - was making a show of yawning at Sobrana.

Which, admittedly, was unsportsmanlike behaviour.

But Red could allow it, since he, too, was bored.

Sobrana himself seemed to be going through the five stages of grief over the course of the ten-minute intermission, staring at the small Pichu as if it defied everything he knew about the universe.

Knowing Pichu, he would only find pride in that fact.

Red chanced a glance up at the stands, scanning them for his friends.

He happened to find Paul first - who was wearing something akin to bewildered awe on his face - before quickly flitting his eyes away.

He saw Lance next, sitting in the V.I.P. stands next to Clair - whose face was an alarming shade of red . He then met eyes with Falkner for a moment, to which they both stared for several seconds.

Red waved a tad awkwardly and turned away, finally finding Salvare by his dark red hair. The kid was sitting next to Karen, writing into his newly acquired journal.

Karen caught his eyes just before he turned away, raising them both in a distinctly unimpressed manner.

She knew he was toying with Sobrana.

Red replied with a hollow smirk, causing Karen to visibly huff, crossing her arms as she muttered something that caused Salvare to snort.

Red shook his head to himself, turning his eyes back to his opponent, who was somewhere in the depression stage of grief, given his slightly harrowed look as he clutched a pokeball.

Three and a half years ago, and Red - well, Ash really - would’ve gone to comfort the man.

now, Red saw him as nothing but collateral.

His pokemon had become stronger, had worked around the limits imposed on them. Red was just using this battle to see how much they had improved, and where they needed to improve further.

Red snapped his head back to the arena as a bell was rung, signalling the intermission’s end. Pichu quickly hopped away from Sobrana’s side of the arena as he let out a hulking Lairon, who immediately kicked up a cloud of dust to bolster the Sandstorm.

Did Sobrana truly not realise that it had no effect?

Red shook his head, unclipping Charmander’s ball from his belt, “ Volt Switch. ”

“ Protect! ” Sobrana’s slightly manic yell brought a mildly amused smirk on Red’s lips, “ Double-Edge! ”

“ Dig and try again,” Red sighed, watching dispassionately as Pichu burrowed into the ground, narrowly avoiding what would have likely been a finishing blow.

Any potential advantage Sobrana may have gained was quickly lost, however, as Pichu popped out of the ground immediately behind the Lairon, before knocking against it with Volt Switch , doing minimal damage.

Of course, that wasn’t the point.

Sobrana seemed to realise what was happening - for a third time - just as Pichu was sucked into his ball, “Ah, c’mon! Not again!”

Red hummed, and ignored Pichu’s annoyed scratches to command the newly emerged Charmander, “ Flame Charge to get behind Lairon, then engage.”

After seeing the expression so many times in the past half hour, the astonished gaze Sobrana had upon Charmander’s flight wasn’t particularly noteworthy.

What was noteworthy was Charmander’s ensuing fight against Lairon.

Given Lairon’s formidable physical defence, it allowed Charmander a prime opportunity to demonstrate his rising martial prowess.

While Charmander wasn’t nearly as swift and dexterous as Frogadier, the small dragon more than made up for it in relentless ferocity, beating Lairon down again and again as it tried fruitlessly to fight back.

Eventually, after a sharp Fire Punch that cracked the metal plating of the Lairon’s head, Charmander hopped away and Belly Drummed , a particularly bloodthirsty gleam appearing in his triangular eyes, before rushing forward with one final Focus Punch , blasting the exhausted Lairon into the ground, causing it to collapse.

At his victory, Charmander bellowed a short - but oh so harrowing - roar, eyes blazing in triangular slits. He almost began to breath small amounts of fire, but Red curbed it, “Keep in your flame, Charmander. We’ll need it in a moment.”

Despite Charmander’s apparent dissatisfaction, he clamped his mouth shut, banking his inner fire as Sobrana called out his second-to-last pokemon.

Upon release, Sobrana’s Donphan smashed into the earth, drawing forth the ensuing sandstorm - which still did no damage to Red’s pokemon - and condensing it to a dusty shadow, smothering its form.

Red smothered a snarling grin - the baring of teeth - at the move.

What he was about to do next was learned from the Chariot, back when the man - the demon - slayed Hoenn’s Champion.

“Charmander,” Red’s voice was calm - cold - and for a moment, his eyes flickered void, “A singular Ember to the dust-cloud. Don’t hold back. ”

One moment there was a cloud of sand and dust, condensed around the Donphan. The next, there was a flash of blue fire, then a spark, then several. The moment after that…

The light and noise was deafening.

Let there be light.

And there was light, as a fiery explosion caught against the cloud of dust, levelling a quarter of the arena as Donphan was blasted back by the concussive force, its hide blackened and singed.

Red watched on with a blank face.

It had been a terrible death for Steven…

The Donphan didn’t go down, though, which was commendable. Thankfully, the Sandstorm was now gone, which made it slightly easier to breath.

Still, the Donphan was weakened - its legs shook as it stood back up - so Red shrugged to himself, “ Dragon Breath .”

With its previous damage, along with its vulnerability to energy attacks, Donphan didn’t remain standing for much longer.

By the 45-minute mark, Donphan fell.

And Red was bored.

This was no real challenge. This was no real test of strength or wit.

He’d struggled alongside his pokemon for the past several months, building them up from their collective fall from grace, redirecting Pichu’s weakness into a core strength, increasing dexterity for Frogadier’s lost strength, reworking Charmander’s entire stratagem to account for his drastic transformation.

They had all struggled… Yet now, they reigned supreme.

And it bored him.

It angered him.

They were training to fight - to survive - against the likes of the Chariot, against a foe who had retained all of their strength where they had lost all of theirs.

But Sobrana was nothing compared to the Chariot - nothing but collateral - and it rankled .

Red knew that he shouldn’t expect any of his opponents to even hold a candle to the man.

But that didn’t make his victories over them any less satisfying.

Sobrana was weak , far weaker than Red had hoped for a trainer who had made the Finals.

Ash would have struggled against the man, possibly even losing should his luck be potent enough.

Red had been torn him down.

piece.

by.

piece.

It bored him, so when Sobrana finally shouted, “Go, Scizor!” he stepped back, with an expression almost akin to disappointment, and uttered in a dead tone.

“ Charmander, make it quick. ”

And the battle ended two minutes later, as Sobrana’s Scizor - his ace - fell onto its knees, its armour plating singed and melted as Charmander stood over it, bearing nothing but superficial cuts along his scales.

And within the triangular slits of Charmander’s eyes, the same shade of crimson as Red’s blazed in cold victory.

…

“This match is Round Four of the Finals, pitting Paul Shinji against Salvare Razzo!”

Red watched the battle’s opening with steepled fingers, sitting next to Karen in silent, but prevalent, support for their friend.

The crowd itself, though still loud, wasn’t nearly as deafening as it had seemed during his own match. He had initially found that odd, which had prompted a roll of the eyes from Karen and, surprisingly, Salvare.

Apparently, he had built something of a massive reputation before, and especially after, that fight.

Karen had griped sarcastically about hogging the limelight, to which he told her that she could have it.

For his own part, Salvare almost seemed relieved at the relative lack of attention. From what he could tell, the crowd had found the subsequent matches a step down from his - which he thought was mildly insulting; Karen had performed especially well - and didn’t have much higher expectations for Salvare’s match.

If Salvare didn’t care about it, though, then neither would Red. After all, Red was more interested in the battle itself than anything the audience had to say about it.

Red still found himself impressed at how quickly Salvare had improved in the past several months, going from an unremarkable trainer with untapped potential to someone who could contend with the best of the region.

Red had made a point of seeing a recording of Salvare’s Gym Battle at Goldenrod after Karen left, and had found himself considerably impressed at Salvare’s performance.

Red almost wondered why the Chariot hadn’t taken Salvare - Judgement - as a protege instead of having him as a mere lackey.

Almost.

Because for all of Salvare’s improvements, for all of his leaps in strength… Salvare was a follower .

‘You know, Salvare’s willin’ to follow you to hell and back, no matter how dangerous it may be.’

Salvare’s improvements, though borne from himself, were spurned by Red, whether purposely or not.

Salvare improved to match Red, to aid him, but not himself.

It worried Red how single-minded Salvare had become in this pursuit.

It made all the more sense how the Chariot could have collected the kid.

‘I lost everything…’

‘He was the only one who cared.’

Red’s nose scrunched at the memory - his eyes flared a dull, painful crimson - as he could hardly imagine the Chariot genuinely caring for anyone or anything.

The man had sought nothing but destruction.

His eyes were so empty that Red had occasionally mistaken him for a corpse.

The only possible way that Red could see Chariot caring for anything was if it was useful .

They were only collateral, after all.

Yet, collateral could be useful, could be directed , and the remnants of Team Source were nothing but pliable in the Chariot’s hands during the Storm.

He had even seen murals of the man scattered at abandoned bases, almost acting as if he was a god.

And… Red didn’t want that. He didn’t want Salvare to worship him, to act only in Red’s interests.

Red didn’t want to be like the Chariot and use it.

Red shook his head, shoving his demons away as he eyed Salvare’s Magneton nail Paul’s Weaville with a Gyro Ball , causing the pokemon to faint.

Upon Paul recalling the Weaville, a bell was rung, signalling the start of the 10-minute intermission.

Red blinked, mildly disturbed - he had drifted out for that long - then shifted his eyes to Karen as she snapped her fingers, “You here with me, Red?”

Red blinked once more, resettling himself in his seat, “Yes.”

Karen raised an eyebrow, “...Can you tell me a single thing about the battle we just watched?”

Red winced, feeling considerably like a bastard for not paying attention, and muttered, “I’ll watch the recording tonight.”

“Yeah, you will,” Karen stated, her voice hard, before softening her eyes, “Listen, I understand that you might be dealing with…” She waved an irritated, “ stuff in your head. Just try to watch some of it.”

“Right,” Red nodded, casting an eye to the screen showing trainer standings, “...He’s doing well.”

Salvare had two pokemon fainted where Paul had three.

Karen grunted in affirmation, but as she opened her mouth to speak, she was interrupted by someone who had stepped up behind them, “Excuse me, would you mind if I sat with you?”

Red turned alongside Karen, and employed every ounce of his restraint to keep from swearing.

Giovanni Sakaki, Leader of Team Rocket, stood behind him.

Before Red could speak, Karen replied in a suddenly measured voice, “You may, Mr. Sakaki. There’s an open seat right there,” She pointed to the seat on Red’s left.

Salvare’s seat.

Red almost directed a glare at Karen, but couldn’t as Giovanni gave a polite - fake - laugh, “Please, Ms. Mela, and you Mr. Satoshi, call be Giovanni.”

Red’s eye twitched as Giovanni took Salvare’s seat, though he kept his face blank, “It’s… a pleasure to meet you, sir.” He did not extend a hand.

Giovanni nodded slowly towards Red, “Actually, the pleasure’s all mine,” He leaned forward to direct a small grin at Karen, “Your friend had quite the amazing battle, no?”

“Er,” Karen faltered, her grey eyes blinking in confusion, “I suppose so?”

“Yes,” Giovanni drew out the word, “It was rather… exemplary , how thoroughly you managed to dismantle your opponent,” He cast a considering eye to Red, “I’ve only ever seen Champions fight with such brutality.”

Red tapped a single finger on his arm rest, “...I can’t take all the credit, sir,” - he did not call the man ‘Giovanni’ - “It was my pokemon who won the match, not me.”

“Indeed,” Giovanni agreed, an interested gleam overtaking his dark purple eyes, “In truth, your pokemon fascinate me, Mr. Satoshi. Fighting with such grace despite being unevolved.”

Red tapped his finger once more - holding Pichu’s head in his other hand - and hissed out in a low rasp, “ Yes. ”

Giovanni hummed as the bell was rung, and Salvare’s match resumed, “I must also say that your Charmander…” He paused, before giving a low - cruel - chuckle, “Well, I’ve never anything quite like it,” He turned his eyes to Red, “Where did you find a creature such as it?”

Red breathed in - he could deny the man - and breathed out - he could kill the man - and decided to answer.

To deny the man would clue Giovanni into knowing that Red was aware of his identity.

To kill the man would incite the wrath of the League on Red, given that there was no concrete evidence of Giovanni’s crimes.

But Red’s answer didn’t have to be the truth. In fact, Red could draw from a lie already built from someone who dealt in deception.

Herren had been the one to help forge Red’s identity, after all.

“Mount Silver,” Red answered, keeping the same tone as he repeated Herren’s fake story for Charmander’s origin, “I found him by his mother’s body. She seemed to have been killed by the local Tyranitar.”

Karen made a surprised noise behind him - she quickly shut up after Pichu’s glare - and Giovanni hummed in an impression of an apologetic tone, “You may pass my condolences onto your Charmander then,” Giovanni sighed, looking down at the ensuing battle below - Salvare’s Haunter fought against Paul’s Murkrow - “I happen to empathise with the creature, having lost my mother long ago.”

Red’s finger paused in its tapping - he had honestly forgotten a man like Giovanni would have had a mother - and Karen blurted out, “You knew your mother?”

“Yes…” Giovanni paused, before regarding Karen with a steady gaze, “I suppose you both would have considered it a luxury, given your… circumstances.”

Red fought off a frown as Karen clenched her fist - so he had done research on his ‘origin’ - and fought off the fleeting images of his - Ash’s - mother.

He wouldn’t ever see her again; he wouldn’t let himself.

He wouldn’t let her die for him again.

Red kept his eyes away from Karen - though he felt her aura spike in smothered anger - listening as Giovanni continued, apparently oblivious to Karen’s scowl, “It has been a long, long time since she was alive, but…” Giovanni mulled over his words, “If there was one thing she made sure to teach me, it was the importance of legacy .”

Red shifted his eyes down to Salvare’s form - his protege’s form - as he muttered lowly, “ How so? ”

Giovanni tilted his head, following Red’s line of sight to Salvare, “...She taught me that life was short,” He huffed, a grim humour entering his tone, “That, if you let it, life would run you over, and leave you out to rot,” He crossed his arms, watching with Red as Salvare’s Feraligatr faced off against Paul’s Torterra, “And that the only way to succeed was to take life by the horns and make it into your own.”

Salvare cast a hand out, moving in tandem with Feraligatr to dodge a Solar Beam , eyes bubbling a vibrant violet. Giovanni’s lips twitched downwards, though he quickly brought them back up to a neutral smile, “My mother was a poor woman, both in finances and in health. Yet,” Giovanni paused as Feraligatr tanked a Body Slam , before throwing Torterra back with a Counter , “It was her lessons that allowed me to rise to where I am today.”

Giovanni’s face seemed remarkably vulnerable, and his next words made Red question whether he was seeing Giovanni Sakaki, the benevolent businessman, or Giovanni Sakaki, the Leader of Team Rocket, “I’d like to think she would be proud of me.”

And for a moment, Red wondered the same.

Would his mother be proud of what he had become.

Or would she turn away in shame.

In terror.

Red blinked, and Giovanni leaned forward slowly, intense eyes gazing down upon the battlefield below, centred on Salvare’s form as he yelled out commands.

Salvare’s eyes glew a brilliant shade of lavender.

Giovanni breathed out - sounding vaguely laboured - and spoke in a low tone, “You know, Red… All this talk of legacy has reminded me of someone else I have not seen in quite some time.”

Red felt a slight chill enter his bones as Giovanni continued to stare downwards - his own eyes bubbling slightly in a familiar shade of purple - “You see… I had a son, not so long ago,” Giovanni hummed lowly, flickering his eyes to Red before directing them back to Salvare’s form, “It was out of wedlock, so I hid him away from the media,” A nostalgic look crossed Giovanni’s face, and he muttered, almost to himself, “You understand the necessity of it, of course. It was bad publicity, and no child needs that .”

Red managed a small grunt in response, rapidly filing away the information. Giovanni continued, “He… was an unexpected gift, and he had the most vibrant violet eyes,” He flashed a look at Red, “...Like yours. Though, of course, they were of a different colour.”

Red breathed slowly - he carefully took in the revelation that Giovanni had a son - and asked in a low tone, “What happened to him?”

Karen also seemed curious, leaning over to watch Giovanni as he sighed, “He left,” - Red silently commended the kid - “One day, I come home, and he’s gone .” Giovanni’s voice was carefully set to sound sorrowful, yet… Red could see in his eyes that he was only angered , “I don’t know why…” Red watched as Giovanni’s gaze lingered on Salvare - whose eyes glowed a vibrant violet - and felt something click, “But perhaps it was for the best.”

Giovanni stared down with intense eyes as Salvare raised a hand in victory, Feraligatr bellowing over the beaten form of Torterra, and began to speak in a thoughtful tone, “I hid him from the world for too long…” He tilted his head - almost exactly the same way Salvare did - “He needed time to go out, become his own man…” A hard glint entered his eyes as he sat back with steepled fingers, “Before… coming home , to take up the legacy .”

Behind Red, Karen waited before shrugging uncertainly to herself, seemingly not connecting the same dots Red had.

Salvare had been in a spot of trouble three years ago, one that Herren had helped him out of.

Salvare Razzo was not his real name.

Salvare hated Team Rocket.

Giovanni wanted his son to take up his legacy .

Red’s mind spun as he clapped numbly with the rest of the stadium. He could see Salvare running towards Feraligatr, hugging the beast - who he had stole from Elm’s lab three years ago - fiercely.

To his side, Giovanni stood, clapping a hand onto Red’s shoulder - Red nearly broke the man’s arm on instinct - “Thank you both for listening to an old man ramble,” He removed his hand, and pointed a finger to Red, “I’ll be keeping an eye on your progress, Mr. Satoshi, along with your… student. ”

Red nodded silently, watching Giovanni walk away into the crowd, blending into it seamlessly.

To his side, Karen let out a breath, “That was weird,” She wrinkled her nose, “Actually, that was really weird. Do you know what that was about, Red.”

Red sighed, leaning back against his seat as the announcer began to wrap up the day, “...I can’t say for certain.”

But he could strongly suspect.

…

Athlete’s Village Inn, Silver Town

Red closed the door to his room, and leaned against the wall in exhaustion.

His chronic migraine was getting worse.

It never really left Red - acting as a constant presence since he reawakened on Mount Silver - but in the past two weeks it had slowly become more and more pronounced.

Red pushed past it, though, clenching his fist as he willed away the black spots entering his vision.

He had dealt with worse, after all.

He just needed a bit of time to recuperate after today, especially after Salvare’s match, as Red had forced his mind off of the everpresent pain to congratulate the kid on his victory.

He was a worthy protege.

And also apparently the son of a mob boss. Though, of course, it wasn’t confirmed, but Red heavily suspected it.

Not that it changed his opinion of him.

Honestly, the realisation itself wasn’t nearly as harrowing as Salvare being Judgement. Which, by this point, Red had coldly accepted. That didn’t mean he would be any less vigilant, though, but not of Salvare - he had already proven his loyalty to Red - but of his father.

Giovanni wanted Salvare to inherit his legacy, after all.

Red rubbed his eyes as he sat on his bed, pushing back the migraine once more. To his side, he heard Vee mewl in discontent - probably feeling the residual effects of his nausea - with Frogadier laying by her for comfort.

Red stayed like that for a few minutes until the spike in his head subsided into something manageable. He grumbled incoherently to himself as he opened his eyes, only to see his pokemon looking at him in concern.

Except for Pichu, who was knocked out in the centre of the bed, burrowing himself in every pillow and blanket.

Red tried for a smile - it was strained - and murmured tiredly, “I’m fine, guys, just a little tired.”

Naturally, none of them believed him. Thankfully, they knew him well enough not to push.

Red would manage; he always did - they always did.

Red shrugged off his backpack, manoeuvring it to the side as Vee trotted onto his lap, burrowing her small form into his legs. She closed her eyes, and after a few seconds, Red’s mind began to clear as her fur shifted into a soft pink.

Let there be light.

And the light was good.

Red smiled softly, petting Vee on the head, before opening his bag to take stock of his supplies.

It was a habit that he had forgotten until recently, given the sudden lack of deadly threats.

Of course, the Chariot’s appearance at the Ruins of Alph reminded him rather harshly to never let his guard down.

Red shook the memory away, laying his three medkits to the side. He could never have too many of those. After those were the rations he set for himself - his pokemons’ food were in a separate pouch - followed by a set of journals, all of which were completely filled in twice over.

After that were the newest additions to his person, starting with the faded hat and ending with the Mew Cells - to which he still had no explanation for.

After carefully placing the cells to the side, Red reached the first of his gadgets from the previous world, taking out a heavy gauntlet with wires hidden behind haphazard sheets of metal.

Despite its haggard appearance, the gauntlet had probably been one of the most useful things in Red’s arsenal, with it being capable of projecting an energised sword and shield that could cut through nearly every organic material, making it particularly useful in situations where Red had to defend himself without his pokemon. Of course, its power source was remarkably inefficient, with it usually losing power after mere minutes of use. Though, it had been able to recharge rather quickly, absorbing the massive amounts of Source Energy that permeated in the atmosphere during the Storm.

Now, though, there was only about 50% power in the gauntlet, even after months of travelling. Red held the gauntlet up against the moonlight, wondering to himself.

The gauntlet had recharged much slower, yes, but it was recharging.

That could only mean that it somehow found trace amounts of Source Energy to draw off of.

Red suppressed a shiver, placing the gauntlet to his side before pulling out a small threadbare bag. Within the bag were four Bubble-Shield Generators, which were always useful. Reaching further, and Red extracted a metal wristband, bearing three synthetic stones of muted colour.

Red stared for a moment at the wristband, gazing with haunted eyes at the three indents left empty.

Three spots were empty, and three remained.

A reminder.

The wristband itself was thin, emblazoned with intricate patterns of god and man.

Or was man depicted as god?

Red closed his eyes for a moment, before slowly - deliberately - sliding the wristband back onto his wrist.

There was a shock of pure power at the contact - the stones reacting to their master - and Red shivered at its familiar embrace.

He snapped the wristband in place, and for a single second, Red’s eyes blazed in crimson light, before quickly dimming as the stones within the bracelet hummed a low, melodic, haunting hymn.

In the distance, Red could hear chimes.

Red flexed his hand, silently relishing in the familiar chill of untapped power within his veins.

Oh, he knew the rush was artificial - a deception, like all else Team Source had created - but that made it no less addicting. It was a trade, like all things, and it took as much as it gave.

Looking down at the stones entrenched into the bracelet, Red eyes three small capsules plugged in next to them, all no more than a centimetre in length. All it took was a twist of a stone, and a capsule would implode into itself, sending a mountain of condensed Source Energy into the stone, before flaring out in a wave that would reach the heart of both Red and the pokemon connected to it, triggering their ‘Source transformation’.

But, like all good things, it came with a price . Though the power gained from such a transformation was boundless, it demanded equal pain in return.

There was a reason why, despite every wild pokemon alive going feral, the world had not been overrun. The fact was, the stress induced by the transformation proved too much to many pokemon.

Entire species of pokemon died off within days of the Source Storm, keeling over from their own overwhelming power being too much for their bodies to handle.

The purpose of the synthetic stones - they, following the naming convention employed by the organisation, were named ‘Source Stones’ - was to contain and weaponise such a transformation, allowing the pokemon connected to the stone to retain their form and mental faculties, with the added ‘benefit’ of allowing the master of the stones to activate their transformation at will.

However, an unintended side-effect was that the transformations were more potent , heightening the power gained in a shorter period of time, along with the pokemon’s pain .

Team Source had a work-around, though - and upon discovering it, Ash had vomited - as the stones could be connected to other living things, even if it could only affect one pokemon. Thus, many of the grunts had taken to spreading the pain across their pokemon in order to keep any single one of them from keeling over.

And with multiple Source transformations at once, it quickly compounded.

…Ash had seen entire teams fall when their brains fried at once.

If there was ever something Red could respect about the Chariot, it was that he never did anything remotely close to that.

Instead, the man had another way of doing things.

…One that Red had begrudgingly taken for his own.

The pain from the transformation could be shared amongst any living thing, and that included humans , and due to their dampened reaction to Source Energy, it allowed them to absorb more for less cost.

It wasn’t any less painful, of course, but it was manageable.

Red couldn’t help but wonder why only he and the Chariot had ever done so.

‘You’re the only one I can call My equal.’

Red shook his head, purging away any potential thoughts of activating any of the stones.

Despite the pain, the power itself coursed through his veins like fire from the sun.

Besides… Red didn’t quite know what would happen with his pokemons’ transformations now that they were devolved… if they even transformed at all.

Sure, the capsules - Source Charges - theoretically held enough Source Energy to kickstart the transformation on their own, even if they were used outside of the Storm. And it wasn’t as if Red was low on them, given that he had a solid dozen hidden away in another compartment in his bag.

And, in the case that he had no more Source Charges, he could sacrifice the stones themselves to unleash their transformations…

But he had no idea what would bring, so he was in no hurry to find out.

But with Pichu, Charmander, and Frogadier as they were now… Red didn’t exactly know how they would evolve.

Source evolution itself wasn’t like regular evolution, or even mega evolution. Whereas regular and mega evolution could be visualised as going upwards, Source evolution was more like… taking several large steps to the left.

Pikachu’s Source transformation, after all, was nothing like Raichu - or even the few Raichu they had encountered during the Storm - and from what else Red had seen, other unevolved pokemon transformed into something distinctly different than their evolved states.

That was what plagued Red, because all three of his old guard were unevolved , and would thus transform into entirely new forms.

And Red had no clue if their bodies could take the energy.

The transformations themselves were already strenuous enough in their evolved forms; Red shuddered at the thought of how it would affect only Pichu .

But…

He kept the wristband on nonetheless.

…Just in case.

Red could never be too prepared, after all, especially after his encounter with the Chariot.

Next time…

Red would be ready.

…But that was a worry for tomorrow’s Red. Pulling his glove down to cover the wristband, he reached into the depths of his bag, pulling out the last few potions and rusted scrap and…

…A cassette tape?

Red’s eyes hardened - Frogadier and Vee stiffened at his sudden alertness - and he deftly pulled out the rectangular object, revealing it as a faded cassette tape.

Red frowned - he knew for a fact that he had never put anything like it in his bag - and squinted his eyes to read its label under a layer of dust.

‘A Gift For You’

‘From: THE CHARIOT’

Red’s grip slackened, and he quickly caught the tape before it slipped out of its hands.

His mind raced.

The Chariot had given him this.

The Chariot - or one of his followers - had planted this in his bag.

The Chariot knew who he was, enough to take interest.

The Chariot gave him a gift?

‘LIGHT!’

Red hissed, flinching back as he was suddenly blinded - though the room was dimly lit - blinking wild eyes to reorient himself, only to find Vee’s tiny face pressing into his shoulder, a faint glow wrapping around his torso.

‘Let there be light.’

‘Please calm down, Lightbringer.’

Red breathed in - the Chariot knew and Red had no idea - and breathed out, closing his eyes as he began to breath in tandem with Vee.

To his side, he could feel Frogadier gather Charmander and Pichu.

Finally, after a minute of breathing, Red opened his eyes - flickering void, then hazed into crimson - and calmly reached for Vee, placing her to his side before standing up.

He could feel Vee’s questioning thoughts pierce his mind as he began to calmly - robotically - undo the latch on another part of his bag, pulling out a large, heavy-duty belt that crisscrossed with various compartments and vials.

He could feel Frogadier’s solemn gaze as he tied the belt around his waist, its heavy weight bringing him - for but a moment - back to those days just before reaching the summit, back when he had slept with it on, ready to awaken into a fight.

He could feel Charmander’s intense - Mad - stare as he latched his gadgets onto his belt, hiding them within his jacket to avoid any undue attention they may bring.

He could feel Pichu as he jumped onto his shoulder, rubbing soothingly on his cheek as he geared himself for war, a war he had hoped - had prayed - could avoid him for just a little while longer.

But, of course, he was afforded no blessing.

The Chariot knew of him, bypassed his scrutiny in perhaps the most insulting way he could.

Red would not allow it to happen again, even if it meant becoming the monster he had been before.

A clock was cyclical in nature, after all.

Red closed his backpack, setting it at the edge of the bed - within reach upon waking - and sat back next to Vee, clutching the cassette tape in his hands.

It mocked him; placed in the bottom of his bag.

How in the hell had the Chariot done it?

Frogadier let out an inquisitive croak, snapping Red out of his thoughts. He pursed his lips, before sighing, “...Let’s listen to it,” He took out his pokedex, which allowed for cassettes to be played - a function removed in next year’s model, if Red recalled correctly; how lucky - before pausing, gazing at his three oldest - surviving - pokemon, “Unless you want me to burn it?”

Charmander and Pichu both seemed to consider it, but Frogadier cuffed them both upside the head, croaking something low and serious that, after a moment, prompted the other two to grudgingly nod.

Red closed his eyes and nodded to himself, “Alright… I guess we’re doing this,” He pushed the cassette into his pokedex, “Arceus have mercy on us all,” and hit play.

And there was Static. Then a voice. Low, male, hollow.

Yet unrelenting.

“Hello.”

“If you are hearing this, then you have found my gift.”

A shuffle. The speaker leans forward.

“There is only one copy of this gift in the world, but it is merely one of a set.”

“I carry this gift with me everywhere I go, so that I may only lose it in death.”

A pause.

The voice turns curious, yet no less bitter.

“That you are listening to this means one of two things.”

“Either I am dead, and you have taken my possessions.”

“Or I have chosen you to hear this.”

A small huff, almost as if such a thing were ludicrous.

Yet the man retains a broken hope.

“In the case that it is the latter, I ask that you listen to this gift in its entirety.”

“It will not make sense at first, and it may never make sense at all.”

“However, for you to have received this gift means that I have seen myself in you.”

A small pause.

“Know that you receiving this gift, in it of itself, is extraordinary.”

A small sigh.

The man leans back.

“It is up to you what to make of it.”

“Cherish it, or destroy it.”

An intake of breath.

Silence.

Then an exhale.

“It does not matter to me anymore.”

“End recording.”

…

Logged in as: The_Tower

Opening Filename: Threat_And_Clearance_Levels

Threat Levels

ALPHA - Threats of this level are categorised by their destructiveness and potential for major damage to the organisation’s operations on the global level. Threats of this level will have been proven to be unstoppable in battle without the use of nonconventional weaponry, and/or will have displayed abilities theorised to be directly from the Source, along with a low chance of showing mercy. Proven individuals who meet this Threat level will be monitored at all times, and any bases will be alerted if they are nearby. In the event of an attack from an Alpha-level threat, protocol dictates that any critical data and research is to be transported away from the disaster site, or destroyed. Members of Team Source are not to engage Alpha-level threats without explicit Alpha-level clearance, unless there is no feasible method of escape. Should this be the case, direct one’s attention towards slowing down the threat rather than defeating it, allowing any comrades or data to escape with their lives. Threats of this level will not fall to conventional means.

The following is a list of current Alpha-level threats, and specific notes and contingencies about them:

The Chariot - This Threat is registered as Dormant, and may only be activated as Active or Engaged by someone with Alpha-level clearance. Should this individual break away from the organisation, he is to be considered active. Should this individual explicitly attack any member of the organisation, he is to be considered engaged at all times. This individual is uniquely dangerous due to his connections within the organisation, allowing him knowledge of the organisation’s operations that other threats wouldn’t know. This individual likely owns at least one legendary pokemon. This individual is unmatched in combat, and will only fall to ambushes or divine intervention. Flee on sight.

Legendary Pokemon - This Threat is registered as Dormant, and may only be activated as Active or Engaged by someone with Alpha-level or Epsilon-level clearance. This threat encapsulates the overall threat that legendary pokemon pose, given their destructive capabilities. Due to the varying degrees of power shown in myth and the few instances of recorded footage, every legendary pokemon will be labelled an Alpha-level threat until further notice. Only engage if The Chariot is on-site.

Red Satoshi - This Threat is registered as Active, and may only be activated as Engaged by someone with Alpha-level, Epsilon-level, or Gamma-level clearance. This individual is currently an enemy of the organisation, but is not to be interacted with or eliminated. Satoshi displayed unique capabilities that parallels the research of Source Energy. Should Satoshi be in the area, all energy-reading sensors are to be turned on to maximum input, and any data is to be sent to The Emperor, The Empress, and The Magician. Follow protocol, and flee on sight.

EPSILON - Threats of this level are categorised by their individual power and potential for major damage to the organisation’s operations on the regional level. Threats of this level will have been proven to be masters of combat, and may also possess enough resources to impact the organisation in other ways. Proven individuals who meet this Threat level will be monitored periodically, and any bases will be alerted if they are nearby for no discernable reason. In the event of an attack from an Epsilon-level threat, protocol dictates that any critical data and research is to be transported away from the disaster site, or destroyed. Members of Team Source are only to engage Epsilon-level threats in groups of twelve or more, and are allowed to use lethal force.

The following is a list of current Epsilon-level threats, and specific notes and contingencies about them:

Neo Tao Clan/Ghetsis Harmonia Gropius - This Threat is registered as Dormant, and may only be activated as Active or Engaged by someone with Alpha-level, or Epsilon-level clearance. The Neo Tao Clan has access to unique knowledge and pokemon, and have a long history of warfare. Ghetsis has shown a particular brand of ruthlessness, with rumours stating that he is capable of summoning lightning from his fingertips. Should this group attack, The Magician and The Chariot are to be notified immediately. Should any members in the immediate vicinity own a Fairy-type pokemon, they are to defend their comrades as they secure the base.

Professor Samuel Oak - This Threat is registered as Dormant, and may only be activated as Active or Engaged by someone with Alpha-level, Epsilon-level, or Gamma-level clearance. Professor Oak is a highly skilled and knowledgeable combatant, having been Champion of the Indigo region for a decade. Should Oak attack, overwhelm him with numbers. Destroying the base is the number one priority, as reinforcements are highly likely, and any secrets cannot fall into their hands.

Lance Blackthorne - This Threat is registered as Dormant, and may only be activated as Active or Engaged by someone with Alpha-level, Epsilon-level, or Gamma-level clearance. Lance has been shown to be uniquely gifted in training Dragon pokemon. In the event of an attack, any members owning a Fairy-type pokemon are to defend their comrades as they secure the base.

World League - This Threat is registered as Dormant, and may only be activated as Active or Engaged by someone with Alpha-level, or Epsilon-level clearance. The World League currently encompasses the governments of Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh. Projections state that Unova is slated to join by the end of 1999. Should the World League become aware of the organisation’s existence, every base is to be cleared of critical resources, and all members will go into hiding under the command of their Lieutenants and Cell Leaders. Further commands will be given as the situation develops.

Cynthia Shirona - This Threat is registered as Dormant, and may only be activated as Active or Engaged by someone with Alpha-level, Epsilon-level, or Gamma-level clearance. Cynthia has been shown to be a gifted combatant, and has recently risen as Champion of Sinnoh. Should Cynthia attack, diversions will be set up across the region, allowing Project: A.N.E.M.I.A. to be safely relocated to another region.

Project: A.N.E.M.I.A - This Threat is registered as Dormant, and may only be activated as Active or Engaged by someone with Alpha-level, Epsilon-level, or Gamma-level clearance. Project A.N.E.M.I.A. has shown unique capabilities in pain resistance and metaphysical manipulation. Should the specimen go rouge, alert The Magician and The Chariot immediately. Flee on Sight.

GAMMA - Threats of this level are categorised by their resources and potential for minor damage to the organisation’s operations at the regional level. Threats of this level will have been proven to be influential in their respective regions, giving them the resources to hinder the organisation at a regional level. Proven individuals and groups that meet this Threat level will be monitored yearly. In the event of an attack from a Gamma-level threat, protocol dictates that any critical data and research is to be transported away from the disaster site, or destroyed. Members of Team Source may choose to engage this threat if they are sufficiently powerful, or if any critical data has already been secured.

The following is a list of current Gamma-level threats, and specific notes and contingencies about them:

Regional Leagues - This Threat is registered as Dormant, and may only be activated as Active or Engaged by someone with Alpha-level, Epsilon-level, or Gamma-level clearance. This threat encompasses the Elite 4 and the Gym Leaders of each region. Should the Regional Leagues begin an incursion, each base within the region is to go into hiding following their Cell Leaders.

Team Rocket/Giovanni Sakaki - This Threat is registered as Dormant, and may only be activated as Active or Engaged by someone with Alpha-level, Epsilon-level, or Gamma-level clearance. Team Rocket controls the criminal underworld in Kanto and has significant influence in Johto. Should Team Rocket attack, alert The Tower immediately, and every member and leader of Team Rocket will be listed and doxxed to the Indigo League.

Team Galactic/Cyrus Akagi - This Threat is registered as Dormant, and may only be activated as Active or Engaged by someone with Alpha-level, Epsilon-level, or Gamma-level clearance. Team Galactic has significant influence in the criminal underworld of Sinnoh, along with the business world. Should Team Galactic attack, alert The Tower immediately, and every member and leader of Team Galactic will be listed and doxxed to the Sinnoh League.

OMEGA - Threats of this level are categorised as individuals who have made an enemy of the organisation. Threats of this level are negligible to the organisation, and will almost always be dealt with swiftly. Should the event arise that an Omega-level threat wages an attack, follow the Gamma-level protocol. The individual’s threat level would then be updated accordingly.

Clearance Levels

ALPHA - This is the highest level of clearance, relegated only to the 5 Leaders of Team Source: The Emperor, The Empress, The Tower, The Magician, and The Chariot.

EPSILON - This level of clearance extends to Lieutenants and Cell Leaders. This includes: The Hierophant and The Moon.

GAMMA - This level of clearance extends to Veteran members of the organisation, along with spies within the Regional Leagues, the World League, and various criminal organisations.

OMEGA - This level of clearance extends to regular members of the organisation.

Note: The Chain of Command follows clearance levels. Gamma overrides Omega, Epsilon overrides Gamma, and Alpha overrides all. In the event where communications go down and/or an incursion begins, follow the chain of command. Should there not be an easily identifiable leader, appoint temporary leaders for groups of five and scatter. Follow protocol, and keep yourselves alive.

-The_Tower