Before Petrel ever began his attacks, Sam and Redi blew through town, rushing to gather materials before heading out. They still had money left from the tournament and Sam’s most recent Gym battle winnings, so they doubled up on restocking healing items and bought a few extra items—specifically, they bought a spare set of tents, sleeping bags, and foldable chairs.
They also got a crowbar, neatly attaching it to the side of Sam’s backpack. It wasn’t relevant to their plans for Petrel, but purchasing it meant nothing like what happened in the Ruins of Alph would ever happen again.
They left town just after midday, heading onto the eastern Route 31 and its path toward Cherrygrove. The middle of the route—the safer area most people followed—consisted of clear-cut forest and a smoothed road that could facilitate vehicles. The edges of the route—the sections less patrolled by Rangers—carried the risk of stronger wild Pokémon and still had their forests, yet that was where Sam and Redi went.
Tall trees stretched above their heads, and they purposefully pushed as far to the side as possible to create a camp where they wouldn’t be disturbed. They were out of the city, but only by an hour or two of travel. Neither wanted to get too far away, but camping closer would have been suspicious. This was the closest they could get without raising any red flags.
They set up their tents and chairs and worked with their teams to gather firewood. Tibia and Fibula remained on high alert, but even with those two on guard, Sam found himself jumping at small noises. The only other creatures that came near their campsite were random Pidgey and Zubat that flew overhead. He had no clue where, when, or even if Petrel would attack. But he still felt his worry was rightfully justified.
The campsite they built was just a decoy, a staging ground for their eventual trap. They didn’t intend to use it, but Sam still collapsed and leaned back into one of the chairs.
He breathed out and felt the warmth of the summer sun through the gaps of the trees. He’d have preferred the cool of the night, personally, as its chill tended to help calm his nerves. Though it’d been hours, there’d been no sign of Petrel. Tibia and Fibula had only detected other Pokémon, and Morty hadn’t contacted them via Pokégear to warn them of an attack.
Sam had spent hours clueless, away from anywhere public, and doing nothing other than biding his time. While there was a burgeoning excitement in his gut that came from wanting to see the plan work, he couldn’t ignore the anxiety that had built alongside it.
We’re planning to weaken Petrel’s Pokémon, but what if his Raticate manages to land another full-power attack? It ripped a chunk out of Haunter. I don’t even want to consider the same injury happening to Quilava or Primeape, but I can’t ignore that possibility.
He knew their plan could work, but he couldn’t let himself become arrogant about it, either. He needed to be prepared for all outcomes—and if that meant he’d be stressed, then so be it.
Sam sat in that chair, stewing in place, for several long minutes. He only looked up once Redi plopped down in the free seat across from him.
When she saw him looking, she smirked, amused.
“So... moping?”
Sam replied with a glare. Redi snickered and casually leaned back.
“I don’t know why you’re so worried, Sam. Either we win or we lose, and even if Petrel beats us, it’s not like he can do that much. Sure, his Pokémon might be strong, but his victory won’t be instantaneous. We’ll stall. Help will show up. Honestly, my win condition is punching him in the face.”
“Did you finish your work with Ursaring?” Sam asked.
Redi rolled her eyes at his attempt to change the topic.
“You mean pre-breaking a bunch of branches? Yeah. Haunter or Misdreavus should be able to send any of them crashing down with just a slight nudge.”
Sam nodded and tried to focus back on the task at hand. Everything was already in place, but it needed to be perfect if Petrel was to be on edge and more liable to make mistakes.
“Sam,” Redi said, pushing herself back up. “You gonna say anything else? You just asked me if I got work done then went back to brooding.”
“I’m not brooding! I’m just... stressed.” Sam rubbed his eyes. “ We’re dealing with a seven-star criminal. What if he finds us without anything else working? I know we’re trying to ambush him, but what if he counter-ambushes our counter-ambush anyway?”
Redi sent him a flat look that he turned away from. The entire day had been a constant discussion about how to make their planned strategy just right. They’d agreed on one thing across all of it—there would be risks, but any plan would involve a risk given who Petrel was.
“I remember when we first met, you used to be way more confident. Recently, it’s like you’ve been getting caught up in your head way more. What’s going on, Sam?”
“We lost to Petrel.”
“I know that. I mean like...” She hummed. “You’re a Ghost Type specialist. We’re about to scare someone. Aren’t you supposed to be more confident about these things?”
Sam sat back in his seat and sighed. He struggled to find the right words.
“The more I learn, the more I learn how much I don’t know,” he said. “The New Pokédex helps, but its information is generic. I have to figure out everything else on my own or rely on more experienced people for advice.
“And for this...” Sam continued, his voice becoming quiet as he spoke. “Petrel has to think our fake haunting is a real haunting. He can’t just think it's two kids trying to scare him, and we only have two Ghost Types with us—combat-ready Ghost Types. Not Tibia and Fibula. I mean, Haunter and Misdreavus are skilled enough, and we’ve spent the past few days training for this exact thing, but Petrel’s Pokémon are so strong, and he has so many Koffing under his control, and he has so much experience—”
“Alright. Stop talking.”
Sam shut up.
“Instead of focusing on what might happen, let’s focus on what will happen and what we can do to stay confident. Personally, I’m feeling good because I trust my Pokémon. You’ve seen how strong Ursaring is.”
Sam slumped in his chair, trying to match Redi’s casual demeanor. There were a few subtle signs of nervousness—her head was a bit too still and she was forcing herself to not actively look around—but Sam focused on the relaxed image she was trying to project.
“I know a lot about Ghost Types,” Sam said.
“And you’re good at scaring people?”
“...Not yet,” he grumbled.
Again, he wasn’t brooding. He was just thinking. Thankfully, sitting around the campsite and doing nothing helped their goals, as their mere presence made the place look more lived in.
He silently considered what he knew and how past experiences could potentially help him. If he was stressed, that meant he wasn’t confident, and Redi had a point that he could do something to fix it instead of sitting around and—
I’m thinking! Not moping. Thinking!
Sam fidgeted with his fingers as Redi idly watched the forest around him. It took a few minutes, but he eventually spoke up.
“Hey. Do you remember Sprout Tower?”
Redi turned to him. Her flat stare was an answer enough.
“Okay, sure, you remember it, but I don’t mean our fight there. I’m talking about the Pokémon that lived there. Do you remember that parade of Gastly and Bellsprout? The one that went through Violet City’s streets?”
“There was a parade of Gastly and Bellsprout?” Redi asked with a blink.
“Um, no. I mean, yes.” Sam adjusted his posture in his seat. “Ugh, the parade wasn’t at the tower, it was through the town at night, which... I suppose it makes sense if you didn't see.”
Redi stuck out her tongue.
“It was symbiotic, in a way,” Sam continued, sitting up straighter. “The Bellsprout distracted observers from the Gastly, and the Gastly protected the Bellsprout while also using that distraction to sneak around. Like, the Gastly went out of their way to join that parade because it benefited them. They enjoyed it. For us, I think we might be able to...”
He hummed, trying to put his thoughts into words. He was supposed to be a Ghost Type specialist. That meant there was another resource they could rely on.
“Tibia, Fibula?” he asked, turning toward the pair of Gastly lingering in nearby shadows. “Are there any other Ghost Types nearby?”
Redi sent Sam a curious look as the two unevolved Pokémon peeled out of the shade of a tree. In sync, they closed their eyes and focused for a few seconds before briefly nodding. Answering the unspoken question, Tibia and Fibula snapped to face in opposite directions, with each Gastly pointing away.
“There’s two of them? Alright. Good. What species? How strong? And are they Gastly, too?” Sam asked.
The pair looked annoyed at Sam’s barrage of questions but still bobbed in the equivalent of a shrug. They could detect if something was approaching or a creature carrying hostile intent, but actual specifics weren't their specialty.
“Okay, okay. That's fine. Which one seems less likely to attack?” Sam asked quickly.
Tibia—or Fibula, as Sam couldn't tell the difference—changed directions to point the same way as his brother. With both looking in the same direction, Sam stood up and began to march the way the Pokémon faced.
“Wait, Sam? What're you thinking?”
“Recruitment,” he answered, not slowing as he walked. “I’m right that Haunter and Misdreavus aren’t enough, but our plan to scare Petrel should still work. Except, we need help. Ghost Types can create environmental effects, especially when found in great numbers. For this, specifically, we need to recognize that Ghost Types attract Ghost Types. If we can gather up a few, we can quickly gather a lot more after that.”
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Redi frowned but bit her tongue. Instead of saying what she wanted to say, she silently hung back and watched Sam go through this plan.
Guided by their guards, Sam recited everything he knew about Ghost Types in his head. Their tendencies, their abilities, their behaviors—he could assume that the individual he was heading toward was also a Gastly, as it was the only Ghost Type species commonly found in these parts, and Route 31 was known to primarily house weak, unevolved species.
But what motivates a Gastly? Ghost Types are inherently mischievous, but is that enough? I'm not trying for a capture, I just need their help. Whatever request I present it with, I can’t risk it betraying or trying to scare us right back.
Tibia and Fibula followed along, sticking to where the light was the dimmest under the trees. Sunset was rapidly approaching. It wasn't exactly dusk, but the forest became awash in red and orange hues as the day neared its end.
Sam found his target quickly enough. He’d never seen a wild Gastly in rest before, but this one was in its species’s equivalent of torpor. The Pokémon sat in the crook of a tree, right where branches split out from a thick trunk. Its spherical body had become mostly transparent, and the movement of its smoke around its sides made it resemble nothing more than a faint patch of mist mostly obscured by wood.
If Sam hadn’t known the Gastly was there, he’d have likely walked right past it. He whispered a quick thanks to Tibia and Fibula before glancing beneath his feet.
“Can you wake it up for me? Peacefully, please. I need to ask it for help.”
Haunter exited the floor to sweep over and poke the wild Gastly in its side. The act wasn't as peaceful as Sam had wanted, as the Gastly was suddenly jerked awake. Thankfully, something about Haunter’s subsequent cackling put it at ease, as that recognition of a prank caused the wild Gastly to cackle alongside him.
“Gastly,” Sam called out. “I’m recruiting you.”
Sharp eyes snapped his way.
Redi was usually confident, but her step forward to assist was far more cautious than normal. She tended to be the one to lead negotiations, but for this, Sam held out a hand to ask her to stay back.
When dealing with wild Ghost Types, it’s best to look confident but not authoritative. Ghost Types respond best when treated as an equal. Specifically, I can’t display fear—fear makes me look like prey. And I can’t make it think I’m going to “prey” on it, either.
He paused for a second.
And I need to smile because Ghost Types like to have fun.
“I’m recruiting you,” Sam repeated, the confident smile on his face somehow feeling genuine. “I’m recruiting you and as many other Ghost Types as possible. I have a plan that involves a great cloud of you. See, there’s this man—”
He stopped himself. The Gastly was already looking bored.
Got it. Short attention span. Let’s cut to the chase.
“We’re going to create the biggest scare this Route has ever seen. Are you in or not?”
Redi looked incredulous—Sam hadn’t bothered with negotiation at all. He knew she was great at haggling and making deals, yet he hadn’t even attempted to be convincing. The greater explanation had been stopped before it could be said. He had never even mentioned payment or offered anything in return.
However, the Gastly was a Ghost Type. What would it even want? It wasn’t greedy like a Mukrow, so it wouldn’t want to collect shiny things. It wasn’t a hunter like a Houndour, so food was meaningless. Material ‘things’ rarely motivated a Ghost Type outside of situations with extraneous circumstances. No, Ghost Types were far more motivated by ideas. Concepts. Feelings. Goals.
Ghost Types were ephemeral beings, often defined by one emotion or another. Desire most often guided Ghost Types more than almost every other Type, and in the case of Gastly, that species desired to scare other creatures.
Haunter lives for setting up scares and playing pranks. At least part of that comes from his species’s instincts. If the idea of ‘the biggest scare this Route has ever seen’ isn’t enough to motivate this Gastly, then I clearly have no clue how Ghost Types work.
But, Sam was right. The Gastly eagerly said its name in agreement and happily bobbed its head.
It’d help them. Sam’s basic pitch had been successful enough.
“Good,” Sam said. “We’ll need more help with this, too. Gather up as many other Ghost Types as you can and tell them to come here. I don't know when our target is approaching, but it can be any time between now and the end of the day. We need a lot, so get a lot, you hear me?”
It grinned.
As the Gastly took off to locate more Ghost Types, Sam turned toward Redi, now smug. Once more, she rolled her eyes, but there was obvious approval in the look she sent his way.
“Yeah, this is definitely going to work,” Sam said.
“Glad you’re feeling confident, but that’s like the third time you’ve said that today.”
Sam turned to Tibia and Fibula and asked them to direct him to the next wild Ghost Type. Far more motivated than before, they readily led him toward the next willing recruit.
----------------------------------------
An entire cloud of Gastly lingered in the trees above the campsite. Working together, the Ghost Types formed an indistinguishable cloud. Each one could help the others blend into their surroundings. Not only that, but with so many Ghosts, the pervasive cold that came with a Ghost Type’s influence wasn’t as subtle. It was everywhere, and even Sam could feel a primal fear building up even though he wasn’t the source of the many Gastly’s ire.
Petrel stepped back, and a low chuckling emanated from the cloud to echo around the forest. The man was clearly forcing himself to stand tall despite the haunting noise. To fight back against his fear, he was putting on an arrogant expression. Sam could guess the psychology of it: why take off running when Petrel could instead pretend nothing was wrong and maybe make that true?
“Y-Yeah? You really think you’re anything? Come on! I’ve faced worse and in greater numbers! You won’t be able to do anything to me!”
The mass of Gastly accepted that offered challenge and dropped from the tree, rushing through the decoy campsite Petrel had placed himself in. The site was purposefully positioned within a gap in the forest, and the trunks of the large trees around it became the boundary of a forming, spectral storm.
Deep purple gas churned. Darkened, spherical bodies became unrecognizable spirits writhing within a cloud. The Gastly didn’t attack; they rushed past Petrel and circled the camp’s sides. As a hurricane, they spiraled around the campsite, a tornado of mist and shadow that laughed at every one of Petrel’s slightest twitches.
From behind a tree, Sam quickly looked over to Redi. She was watching everything unfold with awe.
“You sent the message, right?” he asked.
“...A while ago,” she said. “I sent it as soon as T & F picked him up. I’d say we only need maybe a minute or two more.”
Sam grimaced.
“Then we do need to head in. Before his Golbat gets off attacks, I mean,” he said. “I don’t want any of the Gastly getting hurt.”
Redi nodded at Sam, and they stepped over a fainted Koffing to rush over and join in. They hadn’t been doing anything special to hide; all it took was standing a distance away and a large enough tree.
No, they had gone undetected because people always underestimated the impact of status moves, which held true when weak Pokémon like Petrel’s Koffing were involved. Petrel had treated those Pokémon as disposable, thus, they’d barely been trained. Haunter’s Hypnosis could set up one Koffing for an easy knock-out, and then a few quick applications of Misdreavus’s Confuse Ray prevented others from noticing.
Sam’s two Ghost Types had eliminated every Pokémon sent out to search. Petrel hadn’t noticed due to the inherent silence of the pair of Ghost Types, and the darkness deepened by so many nearby Gastly prevented him from seeing more than a few yards away from the campsite.
And, as Sam and Redi ran forward, the swirl of Gastly hid their movement. Misdreavus appeared beside Sam and brought up a weak Night Shade to ensure their approach wouldn’t be detected. She kept the move on a low intensity to not injure and blind them, but it still served as a sphere of Ghost Type influence that occasionally made Sam feel something unspeakable brush against him.
Misdreavus guided them. Haunter assisted by placing guiding hands onto their backs. While they arrived at the storm quickly, several wild Gastly had already peeled away. Petrel was shouting for his Golbat to attack, and blades of wind caused temporary gaps in the storm.
Anger bubbled up inside of him, but Sam breathed out to keep cool. He sent out Quilava, and Redi released Porygon at her side to have the artificial Pokémon serve as an extra line of defense.
“Go in and out, aim for status conditions. You two know what to do,” Sam whispered to both Quilava and Haunter.
Haunter dropped down as if plunging into a pool, and he entered a shadow that let him slip right underneath the wall of Gastly. As for Quilava, she rushed right into it, acting uncharacteristically confident despite the many ghosts. She moved to run in the same direction as the swirl, and though she made no noise or requests, the wild Pokémon seemed to understand she needed a space made to let her enter.
“Come on. Come on...!”
Behind one of the camp’s boundary trees, Sam clutched a Pokéball in his hands, and Redi did the same next to him.
He could see nothing but silhouettes. It was nerve-wracking; this was the most crucial moment. This one simultaneous strike would determine if they’d be able to fight against Petrel’s team. The criminal was scared, overwhelmed, and trapped, and they needed to take advantage of that before he found a way out. Yet, there was still that difference in power. Haunter and Quilava had to succeed in their first attempt if they didn’t want to be immediately overwhelmed.
But, though Redi stayed quiet and unsure, Sam was able to make out what was happening inside. Within the storm itself, motes of flame sparked up, hidden by the revolving shadows. The Will-O-Wisp shot toward the spiral’s center, and a flash of darkness from Haunter erupted underneath their targets.
Petrel’s mad laughter suddenly stopped, and Sam swore he heard the man click his tongue. A second later, the laughter resumed. It came out even madder than before.
“So it is you two! You kids really stepped up your game, huh?” Petrel yelled as Quilava and Haunter popped out of the storm near where Sam stood. “I’ll have you know this isn’t anywhere near enough! You should recognize by now that I’m still going to win!”
Neither Sam nor Redi fell for the taunts and attacked. Instead, Sam returned Quilava to keep her safe, and both he and Redi released team members for the next stage of their plan.
Haunter made low, moaning noises to hide their voices. It joined with the echoing snickers of the Gastly to create a haunting tune that drifted through the woods. Yet, the Golbat’s attacks had been threatening enough to force several of the Gastly away. A gap in the storm let Sam catch a glimpse of Petrel’s face. He was grinning, and the teeth exposed by his smile seemed far, far too white.
“Swords Dance,” Redi ordered.
“Bulk Up,” Sam said, heart pounding in his chest.
Through the storm, Petrel turned to where Ursaring and Primeape were preparing themselves. Notably, he didn’t immediately go on the offensive. Haunter and Quilava’s attacks had landed, after all.
“Not gonna work!” he taunted, eyes flicking about the wall of Gastly before him. “Just... Whatever! Come on, after them! It’s just a bunch of piddly Ghost Types! Push through, there’s no reason to be afraid!”
The delay was long enough for Primeape and Ursaring to finish preparing themselves, but the storm was still disrupted in the end. Two Pokémon burst through the churning walls: the feral-looking Raticate and the blood-hungry Golbat. Each Pokémon held their jaws open wide, with vicious teeth that threatened to dig into their target’s flesh. Though the storm collapsed as the Gastly fled, many stuck to the shadows and stayed nearby to watch how the rest of this encounter would progress.
The Golbat aimed a Poison Fang toward Primeape. The Raticate aimed a Super Fang toward Ursaring. The match-ups were unideal, but it was more than just Primeape and Ursaring currently out. Dual Psybeams launched from Misdreavus and Porygon struck Petrel’s Pokémon. The targets were swapped; Raticate was knocked toward Primeape, and Golbat was redirected toward Ursaring.
These match-ups were much more in Sam and Redi’s favor.
Primeape took the Super Fang, suffering a horrible bite into his side. However, embers from a burn flecked off of Raticate’s fur, and he grinned as an extra-powerful Assurance smashed the rat Pokémon away.
As for Ursaring, he let the Golbat’s Poison Fang land, toxins being pumped into an outstretched arm. It couldn’t pull away fast enough—the hair on Golbat’s back was wet, and it shivered from the chilling paralysis inflicted by Haunter’s Lick. Though Ursaring lurched from the pain, something pulsed through him as the move sent poison into his body. Red eyes glowed on the bear Pokémon’s face as the adrenaline from Guts and Quick Feet fueled a Slash to Golbat’s stomach, throwing the bat Pokémon away.
Yet, even with those devastating openers, Petrel’s Pokémon quickly recovered. Raticate scrambled to its feet, breathing heavily but pushing through the pain. Golbat could not resume its flight, but it was able to maneuver around and still land on its feet.
“Hah! As if you two can win,” Petrel said with a sneer. “How about this to speed things up? Koffing—”
Two Psybeams from Misdreavus and Porygon saw the Poison Type be struck the second it appeared. The attacks slammed it back, and it drifted toward the ground, where it lay deflated and unconscious.
Petrel clicked his tongue.
“Really? Not even going to fight fair?”
His Pokémon attacked without him. Raticate lunged, but Will-O-Wisp’s burn meant its movements were strained. Similarly, Golbat had to fight Lick’s paralysis just to fly closer to Ursaring. Thunder Punches warded the bat Pokémon away, and Primeape broke through Raticate’s defense with a powerful Rock Smash. The threat of Brick Break forced it to circle him instead. Sam and Redi shouted commands, but Petrel stayed silent, his gaze desperately flicking around as he stood unusually still.
Sam and Redi were winning, but only barely. The difference in strength remained, but their strategy let them fight on almost even terms. The status conditions weakened Petrel’s Pokémon, and the self-buffing moves from earlier meant Primeape and Ursaring could better stand on their own. And then for Petrel, he was still distracted. He never acted as a trainer—no commands were ever sent his Pokémon’s way.
Redi glared at Petrel, her hands clenched into fists, but she didn’t run up and punch him—at least not yet. Sam gritted his teeth as the battle continued, distinctly aware of every passing second.
Haunter’s still hidden. But we need to keep Petrel here for just a bit longer. If we stall for more time, and if Haunter can prepare a strike, and if we can give Ursaring a chance to use Hyper Beam—
“Fine, whatever! This isn’t the end of it!” Petrel suddenly shouted, reaching into the collar of his dark shirt and retrieving not a red Pokéball, but a blue Great Ball. “You kids think you’re so clever, huh? With these Gastly and that ambush and the fake campsite and everything else, oh, I bet you think you’re the smartest people in the world!”
He barked out a single laugh.
“No! You’re just a couple of dumb kids who managed to get lucky! You had to use surprise and fear to try to get one up on me!”
He was screaming. Raging. Sam had never seen someone so frustrated in his life.
But in an instant, Petrel’s gaze narrowed, and the man immediately calmed down. Something about the rapid change in demeanor caused a sinking feeling in Sam’s stomach.
“You won’t win.” Petrel said that as a fact, not as a taunt. “I still have one more Pokémon left. Want to test me? I’ll push back. Come on out—”
Petrel choked on his next word.
Sam felt it before he saw it; the hair on the back of his neck stood on its ends. The color drained from Petrel’s face, and a true cold, not a cold inflicted by any weak Gastly, settled around them in an instant.
The battles stopped. Every Pokémon went completely and utterly still. Petrel slowly turned around with his Great Ball still clutched in one hand.
Something slithered toward him. It was impossibly slow yet faster than Sam could run. Mist built until a fog too thick to see through pulled itself together, towering above Petrel.
Perfect silence. A stillness stretched out into infinity all within a single second. Petrel craned his neck for the second time tonight, and indents formed within the fog itself to create crescent-shaped eyes and a cheshire grin that stretched from tree to tree.
“Ghosts attract Ghosts,” Sam whispered.
Except this creature was being careful about it. Whatever it was, with whatever immense power it wielded, it kept itself far too constrained to be anything wild.
“You... I—!”
Petrel wasn’t able to speak. He and everyone else watched the mouth within the fog open up and come crashing down upon him like a tidal wave.
It consumed him, blanketing his position with its thick obscuration. Mist splashed and flooded out to linger in the campsite like the knee-high mud of a swamp.
But it hadn’t been a finishing blow. It had been setting Petrel up, and Petrel still had that Great Ball in hand. From within that fog, a single, muffled word pierced the air.
“Explosion!”
The mound of fog flashed red. A bulbous, pockmarked shape became visible from within.
As Petrel’s Golbat lunged toward where its master disappeared, a brilliant light sparked up within the ghostly creature. Its crescent eyes made a reappearance just to turn to full moons, and within a second, the world became an inferno of roaring flames.