I stand in the shower with my eye closed, letting the warm water wash over me. I can't get the vision of the Golbat out of my mind; the moment of its death replays over and over. My heart fills with an overwhelming sadness as tears stream down the right side of my face. Why can't I remember? It's a surreal feeling, both knowing and not knowing who I am. What have I lost without being able to grieve properly?

I can piece together enough of my memories to know I am part of something illicit and illegal. Arceus knows that the League is keeping tabs on me in the event that I lead them to something incriminating.

A migraine breaks through the relaxing heat of the shower, and something in my mind ruptures.

The smell of copper permeates the air, and I can taste blood in my mouth. My arm is bent at an odd angle, and I can't see from my left eye. Zephyr is dead to my right, her body more stone than flesh as her wings are bent at odd angles. A puddle of purple slime frozen in the air to my right is what's left of my Grimer, Limos. Towering in front of me is Lysander, scowling at me as the lab's dim lighting illuminates the red "R" pinned to the lapel of his black jacket.

"So, this is it? The culmination of all of your hard work? The fruits of your labor working beneath my wings? O, How you disappoint me, _______."

His scowl turns into a frown as his arms cross his chest.

"I truly expected more from you. Weren't you satisfied becoming my heir? You would cast it all away? And for what? Fruitless trivialities about that abomination?"

He points his thumb behind him to the tank containing the latest Pokémon experiment, a tiny pure black humanoid-like Pokémon floating inside of it. The palm of its hand is outstretched against the glass while it's face had a pleading look. I can't help but let out a pitiful chuckle that rocks my body with pain. Lysander doesn't take kindly to that, and with a snap of his fingers, a Gengar claws its way up from his shadow.

"It doesn't matter anymore. Trash like you can be dealt with. You may have been the most promising of my candidates to mold to my liking, but you are not the only one. If you wish to curse something on your way to the Distortion, then curse your dimwitted heart and foolish innate desire to protect those weaker than you."

He kneels down to be face-to-face with me grabbing me by the chin to lift my face up to his. With our faces this close I can see his normally calm blue eyes filled with roiling and conflicting emotions. He heaves a sigh of disgust, pushing my face away before getting up and walking towards the tank, no longer bothered or threatened by me.

"Specter, would you kindly give him a pleasant death. Let him dream whatever pitiful dream he so desires. Hypnosis and Dream Eater. Goodbye and good riddance, ______."

His Gengar slowly approaches me, laughing with sadistic glee as darkness consumes me.

Gasping for air, I'm slammed back into the present. I remember who Lysander is. I remember being his student, his groomed protege. Fuck. I'm part of Team Rocket... Or still am? No, I'm no longer part of them. They left me for dead. He left me for dead.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" I roar in the shower, punching my fists against the shower tile until cracks open up and dig into my knuckles, causing blood to drip down the wall.

"Why?" I cry out weakly as I crumple to the floor. Loneliness rocks me to my very core. I had been betrayed. Betrayed by someone I was in love with. Her face and name are on the edge of my memory, but it doesn't surface. Not all my memories have returned yet. My poor Zephyr had to pay the price. She didn't deserve to die like that. I don't even know what they did with Limos.

Curse him… Curse that piece of shit man.

"Lysander, I swear to Arceus I'm going to burn everything you love, everything you built down to the ground if it is the last thing I do."

Taking several deep breaths to recollect myself, I try and piece together the bits and pieces that surfaced of my memories. It was like sifting through a vast desert of sand for tiny bits of gold.

A Rocket goon picked me up when I was ten and brought me into the fold. He liked the look in my eye after beating me down for pickpocketing him. His name was Gabriel, a middle-aged man who had more facial hair than face. I nicknamed him Firebeard, which stuck with him.

The rest is fog. I can remember that I rose through the ranks quickly and came to be under Lysander's wing. I remember looking up to him; afterall, he is powerful, charismatic, handsome - all the things I strive to be.

All that I am going to become. Like Red did twenty years ago, I am going to bring Team Rocket down and make sure they stay down.

First, though, I need allies. I remember, Firebeard is stationed in Cerulean City. Tracking him down shouldn't be too difficult; he had an old haunt that he used to frequent near Nugget Bridge. What is it called? I rack my brain for a bit until it comes to me, Karp Kuisine. It's an old shack of a restaurant that serves mainly seafood, particularly famous for their Golden Karp Platter, which consists of a whole fried Magikarp with a side of butter garlic rice and tempura vegetables.

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My stomach starts to growl at the thought of food.

Guess I should finish showering and get food. The dull pain from my fists brings me to look at them. The skin is torn, and blood drips from the knuckles; I'll have to clean it and wrap it. I look up slowly to see the damage to the wall, bits and pieces of the tile have fallen onto the shower floor.

Well, I should probably report it as damage that was already there. Maybe that will work.

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

Champ sits across from me on the bed, his eyes narrowed at me as he watches me wrap my hands. Beca is gorging herself on a salad that room service has delivered alongside food for me and Champ.

The Pokémon centers have been booked and taken over by all manner of trainers for the damn tournament, so I have to dip into the funds that I got from the league in order to get myself a hotel room at one of the Kanto Comfort Inns located in the city. It works out in the end because it is close to the Pokémon center that Meredith is staying at.

Meredith...

I facepalm hard as I rush over to my phone and send a message to her.

E: I am so sorry I didn't respond back to you. It's a yes! I would love to go get some coffee and discuss the tournament.

Once the message is sent, I start pacing around the room. It's pretty spacious with a large king sized bed in the center of the room, a large wall inserted flat screen across from it and the usual commodities you could find in a hotel room. The decor was a bit lacking though, very sparse making the room seem empty. It takes her ten minutes to finally respond. Champ got frustrated and fed up with waiting so he started to chow down on his dinner while watching Hitmonchan boxing videos on the TV that he had pestered me to set up for him.

M: Well, if it isn't my handsome Escavalier. :) It took you a bit, but I figured you'd say yes. I would have been more upset if you'd stood me up tomorrow. By the way, I saw your battle against Arsene; you did pretty well for yourself to hold your own against one of the up-and-coming trainers of the year.

E:... What?

M: You did know who he was… Right?

I, in fact, do not know who he is. I minimize the chat window and search him up online to find out he is one of the few trainers to look out for this year. Alongside his newly gained Butterfree, he also has a Jangmo-o and a Shroomish. He started late because he had to travel over from Johto. There were a few restrictions from his mother that he had to complete before being allowed to venture into Kanto. One has several videos online as testimonials showing how he had to win against one of her personally trained Dratini as his first. Another was going into the Dragon's Den to retrieve a Dragon's Fang from the altar there while battling through the inhabitants there, and lastly was acing the trainer's exam with perfect marks, which he did on his first try.

I let out a low whistle; he truly is the prodigal son of the Dragon Gym Leader, Clair. What the fuck. The worst part is that there's a video of me battling him on the internet now. My face has grown from stubble to a decent growth of facial hair, all white. That, plus the eyepatch, makes me look a lot older than I am, and my white hair is shoulder-length. There are comments on the videos calling me Kanto's "White Ghost" or "White Demon." My shoulders sag as I let out a frustrated groan. This is not what I wanted at all.

E: I genuinely had no idea who he was. Now, I am filled with bitter regret. Did you see what my nickname is?

M: 😂 I did. You're now known as my White Escavalier. It's getting awfully late, I'm going to turn in. We'll see each other at the coffee shop around 11 AM, right? Goodnight, Mr. White Ghost. 😘

My shoulders can't sag any further than they already have, but I try not to let it bother me. It should be seen as a learning experience. I doubt anyone would recognize me considering how drastically my appearance has changed. I look over to see Champ having finished his meal, neatly placing it to the side on the edge of the bed and allowing himself to be enthralled by the Hitmonchan videos.

Beca continues to sleep soundly. I look outside from the seventh-floor window at the pitch-black Viridian Forest. Considering the Rangers and the city guard are both saying there is no entry into the forest, I could either head through the Diglett Labyrinth system or wait it out. It wouldn't be so bad to wait it out, honestly.

This might be a blessing in disguise to look around and get my bearings, maybe find some useful information on stuff or stumble upon some seedy underground connections to the Rockets. The League said they'd sponsor my journey as long as I made a visible attempt to earn some badges, and I'm quite sure that video debut might buy me some goodwill with them for some time.

Hunger finally gets to me as my stomach starts to rumble and growl. I pull my food over, which is a well-done Tauros burger with some Oddish fries. It's not the greatest, but it will suffice for now. While I eat, I browse the web to look up info on the café I'm meeting Meredith at. It's known as the Verdant View Cafe and has a load of good reviews, naming it as a great hole-in-the-wall coffee shop/bakery to check out. A little on the expensive side, but nothing too out of the budget.

I already have a sinking feeling that Meredith might try to have me pay for the meet-up, but I'm sure it won't be too crazy.

I think…

I hope…

After finishing off the burger, I join Champ on the bed and watch the videos alongside him.

The Hitmonchan known as Rocko belongs to a boxing instructor by the name of James Sullivan. He has done the gym circuit a few times and then retired to be a Pokémon instructor. Eventually, he goes on to create his own online persona and creates videos for both trainers and Pokémon interested in physical fitness, learning new techniques/moves, or just wanting to learn how to box.

We keep watching it for a while until eventually, we even start doing some of his shadow boxing routines to try it out until my phone's alarm goes off, signaling it's time for bed.

The bed is large enough to comfortably fit all of us, so I just fall face-first into its warm embrace and let sleep take over.