"We need to talk. About the object you're hiding in your pocket."

Mycroft was not proud to admit he nearly jumped out of his skin at Samantha's words which, accompanied by the gleam of her golden eyes, made him feel as if someone had dumped a bucket of water on him. He stood silent, hopelessly trying to hide his reaction. She never stopped staring at him, not for one moment, and he could swear she didn't blink either.

How could she know? Was she working with Mullac from the beginning or…?

Calm down, fear will only make you look weak. This is a good chance to ask questions; behave like a true Sproutbury would.

"Alors… I have a few questions I'd like answered as well," he said, clearing his throat. "If you don't mind."

It took her a few moments to reply, as she studied him from head to toe. Wondering if she could trust him? If so, he was confident saying that the feeling was mutual.

"You have one of the six objects, don't you?" she asked, a strange force behind her voice. "Don't ask me how I know; not only would it take me a long time to explain but it would be dangerous for you to know. The only thing that matters is that you keep that object safe; no one else can know about it."

He scoffed. "Is that all? Thanks, I could've come to such a conclusion myself."

The way she crinkled her nose made it clear his snark was not appreciated.

"There's something else," she said. "I have strong reason to believe someone in our group knows about the object as well, and wants to take it for themselves."

Something heavy dragged at the pit of his stomach.

"I'm guessing you can't tell me who they are either." He smiled nervously.

Her pursed lips were response enough.

"It's only a hunch for now," she said. "But I hope to confirm my suspicions on the way to Pewter."

"For our sake, I hope you do," he replied, his tone perhaps a bit more threatening than he intended. "Though right now I'm more interested in knowing your relationship to the group of trainers we came across tonight."

For a moment Samantha's eyes seemed to flash, and he feared she might attack him. Contrary to what he expected, she simply relaxed her shoulders and formed a thin smile which didn't extend to her eyes.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you this." She spoke almost in whispers, eyes unfocused, "but… Ryan, Caroline, Sid and the rest are all after the same objects we are. They're our rivals, so to speak, and they've been hired by someone even more powerful than Mullac."

A thin drop of sweat fell down her forehead as she turned towards him, fingers curled into fists.

"Black." She pronounced the word almost fearfully. "The man responsible for what happened to Kanto. The man who hunted down the Gym Leaders and the Dex Holders chosen by Professor Oak, and replaced them with his own, even going as far as to give them the names of the originals. Like a kid playing with toys. The heroes of the past, the ones who stopped Team Rocket, Team Magma and Team Aqua... they didn't stand a chance. Black got rid of them in one fell swoop, coming out of nowhere with a small army of powerful trainers at his heels. He's the one pulling the strings from the shadows; for all intents and purposes, Black is the government."

Redness rising to her face, Sammy had to stop and breathe before continuing, leaving Mycroft stunned, unable to form even a single word. What he was hearing seemed straight out a fairy tale. Someone powerful enough to take out so many legends so easily? Was he... really the one responsible for the current state of Kanto? It seemed impossible. And yet...

"I... don't know exactly why he and Mullac are after the same thing, though I doubt the latter's intentions are worse than what the government might do with objects of such… incredible power."

He didn't like the way she said those last words, especially while looking down at his pocket. His hand unconsciously pressed against it.

"That's all I can say for now." She finally looked away, her expression somber. "I trust you'll keep that safe. For everyone's sake."

She began walking towards the rest of the group -whose silhouettes were barely visible through the mist- not giving him a chance to respond. Not that he would've had anything terribly insightful to say; he was still reeling from what he'd learned.

Was there any reason to distrust her information? Of course not; why would she choose to tell him such a specific lie? What would she gain from it?

Black, he repeated the name inside his mind, lips trembling. What kind of person is he?

Something caught his attention; the distinct shape of a square piece of paper that had fallen out of Samantha's backpack. It spiraled through the air for a couple seconds, finally landing on the road behind her, the girl none the wiser.

Mycroft knelt down to pick it up, and was about to tell her when he realized what he was holding. A small, polaroid photo with two people in it. The first was unmistakably Samantha, perhaps a year or two younger and wearing a yellow shirt with black and white sleeves.

His mouth hung agape, eyes going wide. Samantha's eyes were a completely different color in the picture. A faded, dull red. He would've considered it a printing error were it not for the pristine state of the rest of the photo.

Though the worst part was the realization that he knew the man she was with. Both he and Samantha were holding each other, smiling brightly at the camera as if they were extremely close.

He was younger as well, though he would've recognized that torn sleeveless shirt and that curly hair anywhere.

"R-Ryan…"

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Captain's Logbook.

(The captain is me: Vard.)

Our odyssey towards Cerulean has been packed full of vibrant emotions and endless adventures, thanks to my brave subjects. Everyone has been working non-stop to climb the steps of the Team of Vard.

Sabrina, our admirable and manly sub-leader has demonstrated her navigating capabilities, showing us the way in the vile maze of routes and roads between us and our objective.

My beloved ninja has caused no shortage of hi-jinks, including the time he kicked an unconscious Bellsprout for five hours straight while we walked. I still don't know exactly why he did that; but I am still proud of him.

Wol…Welf… uh, our white haired companion still wears those bandages around his eyes. Poor man must still be expecting that piñata to appear, though I don't see a baseball bat in his hands. Perhaps he intends to shoot it with his pistols? If so, quite the interesting idea.

Rhin and Muffin have been working on their relationship, as observed by me from behind a bush. They seem to have exchanged Pokemon as a sign of peace; a hearty looking Growlithe for a… thing, that looks like a flightless bird with a very big head. Well, no one said friendship gifts had to be pretty.

Mycroft and our sizzling redhead have been rather quiet lately, for reasons I am unaware of at the moment. I must investigate this as soon as I have the chance; perhaps they need more time looking at my beautiful mane?

And finally, my good foreman still seems down by the result of his peaceful strife against the gentleman with the humongous scythe. His lively assistant has done her best to not only patch up his wounds but his spirits as well.

Friendship, adventure, romance… and my hair looks better than ever.

Though finally; we've arrived at our mysterious destiny: Cerulean City!

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

What epic challenges must the Team of Vard face in this new location? I suppose only time will tell.

Vard closed the small diary, shoving it and the pen inside his hair. He breathed in deeply as he took in the sight of the city beneath them.

Raising his palm towards the sky, he proclaimed:

"Our final objective: Cerulean!"

"Uh…" Muffin raised a hand, nervous. "Wasn't our final objective Pewter?"

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Sabrina yawned as she stretched her arms, covering her eyes from the sunlight filtering through the mist.

For some reason she found herself smiling. Maybe being so far from Saffron was all she needed to lift her spirits; she felt free again, without worries, without that horrible black cloud hovering over her.

Just the way she liked it.

"Is this really Cerulean?" asked the one who really liked fiddling with tarot cards, frowning. "I expected something better than this pigsty."

"The town has seen better days," said Siegfried, a strange shadow of sadness washing over his eyes. Was it because of the proximity to Viridian, where he was from?

Sure, the town didn't look much better than Saffron, at least from afar, but she would take what she could get.

They were in the middle of deciding how they'd approach the city when the sounds of wings flapping reached them. Sabrina looked up, and through the thick mist she noticed a small ball of feathers with two enormous eyes flying down towards them; a Hoothoot. It landed on Mycroft's shoulder, holding something on its tiny beak. The boy's eyes went wide at the sight of what appeared to be a wax seal adorning the letter.

"A letter from home?" he whispered to himself. After a few moments of hesitation he turned towards them. "I'm afraid I'll have to leave you for a few hours while I take care of some family business. Besides, I could use some time away from... some of you."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow, grateful that she was in too good a mood to be bothered by his insult. As if on cue, tarot guy raised a hand and smiled.

"I guess I'll look around the city as well, see what I can find," he shrugged. Judging by his expression she guessed there was a reason for his decision, but decided not to push.

"I'll go as well," said Wolfsomething.

"Very well then," Sabrina said, mockingly bowing to them. "I liberate you from my barbaric mandate, oh dear prince and his lackeys."

Strangely, it was Sammy who stared at her with what was clearly a very intense hatred. She wondered if she'd done anything to earn that; most likely yes. And after a few moments of thinking she left as well, taking cat ear girl and Siegfried with her, leaving Sabrina alone with Silver, Molly, Vard and the ninja.

"So, we gonna go buy some stuff?" asked the first, clicking his neck and moving the scythe from one shoulder to the other.

"I doubt it'll be that easy this time," said the ninja. "Unless hat girl here has some underworld contacts in this city as well, which seems to be her specialty."

"Nothing that can't be fixed by looking around a bit," she replied, ignoring the ninja's -not entirely inaccurate- accusation.

They walked down the outer streets of the city for a while, looking for any sign of shadiness without much success. That is, until they ran across an aged man, sweeping the street with earphones on.

Sabrina took a deep breath, and fixed her hat as she approached him. She could feel Ñako and Silver facepalming behind her.

"Excuse me, my good sir."

"Huh?" the man said, frowning as he took his earphones out.

"You see…" She clapped her hands together, forming her best smile. "We are members of a very popular Death Metal Trash Cumbia band. We are known far and wide as Rosita Storm."

His expression was priceless, though she decided to continue before he could fully process her words.

"We're actually working on our next single, and have been stuck for the past weeks, unable to keep working on it thanks to lack of… inspiration." As she said that Silver placed his thumb and index finger in front of his mouth, smoking an imaginary joint. "Besides, we need to see… you know, those creatures, Pokemon, and any related objects to use them as base for a song about kicking Torchic to death. Do you have any idea where we might find such a place?"

Her long winded explanation seemed to overwhelm the man. He stared at them with the deepest of confusion for a few moments, before replying.

"Ah… yes, I think I know your band's name from somewhere," he said, deep in thought. "Well… I don't know what kind of inspiration you're after; this is a city of humble and peaceful folk, for the most part. Though…" His gaze moved northeast, toward what looked like a dilapidated steel bridge out of town. "Under that bridge there's a more… picturesque place. You might find what you're looking for there."

She thanked the man, who still seemed somewhat doubtful of her claims, and without wait they headed west, feeling as the warm and peaceful atmosphere of the city evaporate with every step. The bridge -whose red paint had flaked off a long time ago- hid a street underneath in the dry canal, full of tracks where trains probably ran years before.

Now there was a single, giant warehouse painted with a multitude of graffiti. Its doors were opened; and from inside various purple lights flashed on and off. The music pouring out was almost deafening. It shook the metal sheets that made the walls, and made Sabrina wish she'd stolen the old man's earphones.

"Now this is my kinda place," said Silver once they arrived, smiling in a way she didn't appreciate much. "The music makes me feel like I'm back home."

"Sir, please…" the young girl pleaded, grabbing him by the arm. "Your wounds aren't healed yet."

Vard smiled, raising his palm from within his cape. "Do not fear! Vard will guide you through this hapless hovel!"

All eyes inside the place turned towards them when they entered. A multitude of unpleasant folks adorned every corner; from bikers with leather jackets to robed men smoking something that smelled horrible to young girls with brightly colored hair serving drinks.

But strangest of all was the giant steel cage in the middle of the warehouse. There were two young men locked inside, each one commanding their Pokemon as they fought. The floor under them was covered in blood as well as shiny coins people threw at them through the cracks of the cage.

"There sure are a lot of ugly people in this neighborhood," the ninja whispered, hands in his pockets.

"Come on Ñako, don't say that." Vard put a hand on his shoulder. "Not everyone is as lucky as your handsome leader."

Sabrina barely heard them however, as realization came to her.

Something in this place was terribly wrong.

At first she thought it was just one of the many underground Pokemon fighting rings, but soon she began to notice certain… details. The cages, the way the arena was laid out, even the faces… Here and there she noticed familiar expressions and laughs. Could it be…?

No. No, there's no fucking way. Out of all the places in Cerulean…

A group of teens, looking a bit too innocent for such a place whispered amongst themselves with clear excitement. She caught some of their words with sinister clarity, which made her veins turn to ice:

"Did you see her today? Misty…"

Her hands began shaking so badly she almost dropped the cigarette she was holding. She saw herself back inside a cage like that, with resounding screams of 'Let her out!' booming inside her head.

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》Two trainers stood across from each other within a large steel cage. The one on the far right was a short, black-haired girl wearing a black beanie and a hoodie, a cigarette being held by her lips.

Pinching the back with her fingers, she began to speak.

"I suppose you know the rules, though I don't mind repeating them," she said with a cold, dispassionate voice. "Three against three; you can use your Pokemon in any way you wish as long as you don't have more than one out at the same time."

She took a slow drag of the cigarette as she backed up toward a small table inside the cage. Atop rested a handful of cardboard boxes, each filled with Pokeballs of different colors.

"The leader, that would be me, will use random Pokemon from these boxes." She pointed at them, looking bored. "They haven't been raised by me nor do I care about their well-being, so don't expect me to go easy on you."

She closed her eyes for a moment, throwing the cigarette to the ground and stomping on it.

"You can try to kill me to win, and in fact I recommend you do. I'm not allowed to kill any challengers. Too much paperwork, you see. But then again…"

Her eyes set on her opponent, a cold, boundless abyss behind them.

"Accidents do happen."

High above the arena, two men sat next to each other on the spectator seats. One of them was somewhere in his forties, smoking a pipe as he stared down with something akin to boredom.

"Is that the new Gym Leader?" he asked. "Could’ve mistaken her for a guy. Is she any good?"

The young man next to him crossed his arms and replied with a soft, chilling voice.

"Well… her physical strength is terrible, her attitude is abysmal and she urgently needs someone to take her down a peg," he listed with a strange calmness. "However… her skill in Pokemon battles is something you don't see every day. And most importantly: she doesn't ask questions."

"And what's her name?"

The young man smiled, turning to look at his associate. His features were soft and handsome, and he wore an all black uniform with a single white triangle badge on his chest. His hair was straight and soft though somewhat overgrown, mostly light brown except for the single tuft which covered his right eye, which was a deep azure. His eyes were bi-colored, the same two as his hair.

"She doesn't have a name anymore,” answered the man, the corners of his lips quirking up into the shadow of a smile. "From now on she's simply... Sabrina."《

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Sabrina came back to reality with a jolt. She took a deep, somewhat hurried breath and blinked furiously, her chest hurting.

Her gaze went towards the arena against her will, and she vaguely distinguished the… exuberant hair of Vard.

Ah… no, I don't want to know.

Without wait she turned around and started walking towards the exit, panic fueling her body.

Where are you going? A voice inside her head asked.

"Far away."

But this is an excellent opportunity, don't you think? All you need is to ask some questions here and there and you'd learn the location of those people.

She stopped just before reaching the doors, clenching her teeth and stabbing her palms with her nails.

Don't you want revenge for what they did to you?

"No, I'm not into pain and revenge but thanks for asking."

Is that really it? Or is it because you know that no matter how hard you try, you'll never be more than a fly buzzing around the ears of their organization?

"Shut the fuck up."

She pressed a hand against her forehead. Great, she was arguing with herself again. A bit of fresh air probably wouldn't hurt. She kept walking until she found a massive pile of discarded, broken tires, atop which she decided to sit for the time being. She took a cigarette from the package, but her fingers were shaking so hard she needed Rokon's help to hold it while he lit it.

And to think she'd been in such a good mood before.

Did she really think she'd get to escape so easily? What a dipshit. No, she knew better; she couldn't escape their shadow. Not while she was in Kanto. And yet…

Unconsciously her fingers closed onto something cold and metallic hanging from her neck, hidden within the folds of her clothes. She smiled bitterly as she felt its familiar, reassuring touch.

"That thing you asked of me… It's a lot harder than I thought, you idiot."