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Sinners: Arc 2	By : Stormborn Apostle Category: Pokemon > General Views: 46513 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: Yes, yes, 'tis late. But by now, no one should be surprised at my failure to meet self-imposed deadlines.

First up, let me clear up something about my vision of Pokemon battles in Sinners.

In most cases, especially those involving high-level and well-trained Pokemon, I've always imagined that the Pokemon themselves have a great deal of autonomy. After all, no time to be shouting orders at the critters when they're trying to dodge rapid-fire ice beams or something, right? I see the trainers as guiding them, providing strategic plans and longer-term instructions before and during the battle. You'll see what I mean when the battle begins.

Secondly, FUCK, this chapter was longer than I intended, nearly 22000 words and 44 pages. That's what happens when I tinker with a chapter long enough, heh. But I like it. I think I suck at writing battles, but I like how the Kiako segment turned out. You will know a lot more about him after you read this chapter, and those on the mailing list who received the Thanatos Batch plotmail a while ago will have some of their theories validated/rejected.

At this point, I would like to say that, if you read the review page, expect major spoilers from now on. People may be guessing at certain issues, and I may confirm/deny those guesses. Only read the massive page at your own risk.

Well, enough notes. Time to get started! Enjoy!

AND DO NOT EXPECT 22000 WORD CHAPTERS ON A REGULAR BASIS. *whew* Ironically, when I first drew up the plans for this chapter, I thought it'd be a relatively short one. XD

************

Chapter 19: Death From Above

Darkness.

Darkness everywhere.

But not silence.

No...there is some sound here, some horrible sound. A whirring noise. A shrill whistle, like the kind in an elevator shaft. Somewhere, deep in this material darkness, there is a pained scream. Maybe it is his own.

Even in this strange, blind, disembodied state, he is aware of the blazing power flowing through him. It rockets through every vein, saturates every muscle, gives his mind the terrible awareness of a baby god. He is great, he is perfect, and the world will be his whenever he wills it. He has none of the urgency of mortality, no desire to FUCKING HURRY UP AND DO IT, because he knows that he can have it whenever he wants, and that he will live forever...or so close to it that it makes no difference.

But something is wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

His divinity is flawed. Faltering.

Maybe (and this thought terrifies him) it is, and was, an illusion.

And then his omnipotent power is fading, receding like a wave, leaving nothing behind but splintered wreckage and foam and rot. His very awareness is starting to dissipate as well, but not before he hears panicked shouting in the darkness, the voices of a dozen...beings...rushing to jab him with needles, to jolt him with electricity, to splice apart his very being in order to make a more Perfect Union of technology and magic and create a god unlike anything the world has ever seen...

More screaming, and this time it is from everywhere. Agony, blue-hot and terrible, saturates his body and mind. It is more than the feeling of being operated on without painkillers, worse than the sensation of having his eyes ripped out and replaced with newer optical nerves grown from another---fresh, straight from the unlucky donor's head!---it is the agony of lost perfection, the horror that a god feels when its Godhead is stolen from it. He has been raped of his divinity and it is terrible.

And now?

Darkness.

No sound this time. Just darkness.

But wait! Wait! Something...

Awareness! But so faint! And nothing to gauge it with in the black void of his mind. Far away, in another room/level/world, there is pain. Terrible, soul-killing pain. His pain? Another's? Either way, he FEELS it, and it occurs to him now that the darkness might be a mercy; if he could see what was happening to him, truly happening to his body and his mind, he might be driven mad long before he took his first step amongst the world of man (unworthy filthy wretches).

Now come the whispers, the panicked and hushed voices of those he heard before. They frighten him. All his memories of being godlike fade away in the presence of those voices. THEY feel like the gods. THEY have the power. And THEY can kill or cure him. It will only be later...much, much later...that he learns that those voices are no gods at all, but mere monkeys with tools far more advanced than they deserve to use, children with chainsaws who kill themselves just as often as they succeed.

Another...of whatever he is...is joining him in the darkness. But unlike him, it is silent, unfeeling. Maybe even dead. But its being feels familiar, its design: it is part of him, his other half, by chance if not by fate. And then it begins again, and even in the darkness and silence, the agony of this vile surgery is palpable, the feeling of this comatose creature being sutured to his flesh is real, and he screams in echoing rage and pain as he feels his genetic structure being ripped apart and re-woven, his body broken and splinted in a dozen places. What is this? What is this hell? Who does this? How DARE they do this? He does not care if it really is a group of gods forging his being, he will kill them if he can and spit in their faces if he cannot, because no one, fucking no one will do this to him, he is to be the Lord of All even if he is powerless, he---

Wait.

He picks out one voice from the multitude of whispers, a voice that is exhausted and proud of its demon's handiwork. If he ever gets out of the haze and blackness, that is the one he will kill first, the one with the old man's voice and disgusting, dripping pride.

"IT IS DONE."

And yes, he must admit, it feels like it's done. The pain is lessening into a background buzzing, and the sensation of being torn apart has ended. The other mind, the other that joined him, it is still silent...but it is not dead. No, it is his now, and his power flows easily through the twisted neurons and blank pathways. Complete.

But then he realizes that something is terribly wrong, and he doesn't think the voices know it yet. His power should be flowing vibrantly through those new pathways, but instead it is clogging in them, stagnating, clotting like putrid blood. His power, although briefly reborn into a force even greater than it was before, is slowly fading. Losing brightness. His very divinity and glory is seeping away, with the rest coagulating into a foul and useless paste. He doesn't think it will burn out entirely, but how weak will he be when it stops? How useless? How much of a failure to whatever insane gods that commissioned his creation? Never mind that, he could care less about what THEY want, but what about HIM? How can he rule All if he is nothing more than a failed...experiment?

Now the voices are beginning to panic again---they realize their own pathetic, incompetent failure---and again the tools are brought to him. Drills and needles and electric prods and the pain, oh the pain, he screams, both in Truth and his mind; the tortured cry badly startles those working on him, and the old man who thought IT WAS DONE has a sudden and blindingly intense stroke, and afterwards he will awaken and wonder if the abomination's shriek is what stole half his body, and despite the doctors' claims of the contrary, the man knows he is right, yes he is, the Demon stole his life and left him a crippled old man who will never walk again and sometimes can't remember his wife's name and realizes that the Demon could have killed him, it could have delivered that mercy, but it used the last flares of its Glory to damn him to this hell and it was laughing at him even in its agony.

The brief pause caused by his audible screech and the doctor's collapse is quickly overcome, and the tools are back, only now joined by some thick and foul-tasting cloth that is shoved in his mouth, blocking half his air and making him thrash out in panic. He is restrained, and it is a feeling he will always hate, being pinned down and unable to move, his power useless and his freedom stolen, and he screams, oh Shadow, it hurts so bad, and he flares again, wanting his ever-fucking divinity that was stolen from him, and it hurts, it HURTS---

*************

The man with demon eyes jolted awake with a wordless cry, nearly falling off of Gyarados before recognizing his situation and stabilizing himself.

Kiako gripped the coarse scales of the beast, pulling himself back up into sitting position. He tried to catch his breath, but it was difficult at this altitude; while he could tolerate the lack of oxygen up here in the highest skies, it still gave him a faintly claustrophobic feeling every time he drew in a deep breath and found there to be far less air than he expected. Such a feeling gave him phantom feelings of being held down...tied down...paralyzed...

Gyarados looked back and gave a questioning grumble, and Kiako shook his head---partly in response, partly to shake off the feeling of plastic restraints and IV needles across his body.

"I'm fine," Kiako said in an unsteady voice, not sure if that was the truth or not. Making sure that none of his gunna had fallen off during his waking, he gave a curious look at the world below. "Where are we? I thought we'd be over the Great Sea's center now, but it looks like we're nearing land."

There was a brief pause as his sleep-muddled mind worked to create the connection with the dragon. I DETECTED THAT WE WERE UNDER THE GREAT WESTERLY JET STREAM AND ASCENDED TO SAVE TIME. WE'VE CUT SEVERAL HOURS OFF OUR JOURNEY. WE ARE APPROACHING THE HOENN COAST NOW. LESS THAN A HUNDRED MILES NOW.

Kiako nodded---the move was a wise one, yes, and it seemed that both of them were physically capable of handling the extreme altitude. They'd arrive at their goal in almost half the time, which would please the dark man oh-so-much.

But something felt...off. At first he thought it might just be the cobwebs of his dream, still scuttering over his skin with ghostly strings and strands of claustrophobia, of agony, of madness...but the feeling was not going away. In fact, it seemed to be getting more intense.

It did not make sense. He should have been pleased at his Pokemon's successful navigation of the airways, but instead he felt like he'd eaten spoiled meat and was moments away from vomiting it up. It was a feeling he often had before catastrophically bad things happened to him, and while it was possibly a sign that his ever-growing abilities were progressing from prog to pre-cog (the dream's re-occurrence seemed to reinforce such an idea, as it had also often preceded ill events), he did not feel pleased. He felt...nervous.

When was the last time he'd felt nervous? Before he joined Team Rocket, certainly, and by years. It was a feeling he loathed...the feeling of perfect confidence suddenly becoming shaken, doubting. The loss of surety and will and

(divinity)

control.

Still, he was tempted to write it off as being little more than the last echoes of his nightmare, but he realized, with some horror, that his Pokemon was becoming spooked as well. And that truly worried the red-eyed man-thing; after all, how many things in the natural world could spook a Gyarados, especially one as well-trained and battle-hardened as his? Had it not slain hundreds of men and Pokemon in its lifetime, many of whom were powerful in their own right? Had it not once charged the great Zapdos itself at one time in the past, heedless of its own terrible vulnerability?

"What is it?" Kiako asked, keeping his senses and eyes on the sky. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, but Gyarados was nearly trembling---a dragon, trembling---beneath him. Behind the shaking body of his mount, and behind the nervousness that was clouding his mind, Kiako could feel...something. Maybe a sound, a whisper, growing in volume. Gyarados seemed to hear it as well.

WE MUST DESCEND IMMEDIATELY. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY, BUT EVERY INSTINCT I HAVE DEMANDS WE DESCEND AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. WE HAVE ENTERED FORBIDDEN AIRSPACE.

He frowned. "Forbidden? By whom?"

There was a pang of confusion from Gyarados, yet no diminishing of its surety. WE HAVE ENTERED THE REALM OF THE LORD OF THE SKY, AND UNLIKE ITS BRETHREN, IT DOES NOT SLEEP.

Kiako had studied many of the local legends and historical records of ancient Hoenn, but not all (certainly not as many as he had of Kanto and Johto). Had he looked harder and studied more, he may have come across certain tales of a time when men flew through the skies of Hoenn on fantastical winged machines of iron and steel. They traveled the airways without the aid of Pokemon, and faster than yon dragon beneath him ever could. However, whenever one of these machines passed a certain altitude---namely, the Westerly Jet Stream---they either disappeared forever, or came tumbling back down to earth in a crumpled mess of flame and metal. Red-Eyes may not have believed such stories---and who would believe in magical flying devices like that, anyway?---but he would have filed it away in his mind, just in case.

Instead, he was forced to rely on his instincts---and those instincts were agreeing whole-heartedly with his Pokemon. Something was wrong, and they needed to go down immediately.

As he urged Gyarados down, a tremendous bolt of white-hot energy, like a titanic cylinder of directed lightning, crackled and roared past them, burning through the air and clouds they'd been in a mere second prior. The clouds dissolved in the blast's wake, melting like cotton candy. Kiako's gaze darted to the source of the beam, and for the first time in a long time, he was utterly frozen with terror.

The Lord of the Sky was gazing back at him from a mile away, with eyes as red as the fires of hell, enraged at the intrusion upon its realm.

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

He had existed since time out of mind, roaming the infinite airways of the skies. Sometimes He ventured out over the rest of the world...Kanto, Johto, Sinnoh, even the misty land masses that lay beyond any map. Sometimes He went so high that even He could barely breathe, catching brilliant glimpses of the stars and auroras. But He made His roost in Hoenn, and still considered it home.

But something was wrong.

The Lord divided His long, long memory into several categories. There was the Ancient Times, when He had been born, hundreds of millions of years before the first man had walked upon the earth.

There was the Long Ago, when He had forced His two quarrelsome brothers into sleep, saving the world from being destroyed before it had scarcely begun. He smiled at the memory even now. Foolish as they were, He still loved them, and hoped for a time when they could be re-united in peace.

And then there was the Ago, the time of the King.

He still remembered the downfall of the great King and the poisoning of the world below. The chaos was much less than it could have been, say true, but it was still horrible. The Shadow had not succeeded in destroying the land, but it had ruined it.

And still He was not sure where the Shadow came from.

Was it born of the young man who betrayed the King? Surely that one had summoned it, yes, but did he create it?

Was it released from the core of the planet during His brothers' battle, the conflict which re-shaped and re-forged the world? Many other demons had escaped in that clash, what was one more?

Or had the Shadow been around as long as He, born from the strange discord and magic of the Ancient Times?

Did it really matter? Not much. Regardless of how old it was, it still occupied the Lord's dreams and nightmares. And in those dreams, it was free again, in the Present, destroying the last vestiges of civilization, killing the descendants of those that had escaped its grasp in the time of the King.

And in His dreams, it was led by a new master, one with red eyes and black hair, a man born of no mother, one who had touched Divinity and lost it just as quickly...a failed god, a being that was neither human nor Pokemon.

And now...now that dream-man was in His realm, riding atop one of its Children. While He could not penetrate the man's mind---fearsomely powerful it was, lost divinity or no---He could still sense his evil intentions towards His lands, the lands he'd promised the King that he would look after.

Fate? Chance?

Again, did it really matter?

Regardless, this abomination was going to die. Right now.

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

After a moment of initial panic, Kiako broke out of his fear and snapped himself into the makeshift saddle atop of Gyarados, securing his gunna and snapping on his power scanner. A quick scan revealed what he expected---Pokemon unknown, no available data. Power levels beyond measuring capabilities of scanning equipment. It was the Lord of the Sky---possibly even the being that the Hoenn-folk referred to as Rayquaza, the one that sealed away Groudon and Kyogre---and he didn't need his scanner to know that it was pissed.

"Hile! Down, Gyarados, down! And for fuck's sake, don't move predictably, evasive maneuvers!"

The dragon began descending rapidly, hoping that the Lord would cease attacking when they exited the jet stream. It did not, however; another enormous Hyper Beam rocketed by, plunging through the sky and into the sea (where it sent up a huge jet of steam), and then another still. The third blast was close enough to scorch Kiako and Gyarados' left sides with soot, and would likely have vaporized both of them if it'd been a few feet closer.

Kiako considered having Gyarados fire back a few Hyper Beams of its own, hoping to convince the Lord that they were too dangerous to be casually messed with. As another deadly blast soared by, however, he reconsidered---somehow he doubted that Rayquaza, if that's what it was, would be intimidated so easily. He instead continued to urge Gyarados down, but when he turned to check on the sky beast, he found that it was not just continuing to fire at them...it was chasing them.

(Maybe it knows just what I mean to do to this world. Maybe it even sees, and fears, the power I will command someday.)

A quick glance at the sea and a reading from his scanner's altimeter showed that he and Gyarados were not going to make it to the ocean before being overtaken (and Rayquaza could probably bulls-eye them if it got within a quarter mile or so). So, despite being nearly a hundred miles from land, nearly seven miles up, and totally outmatched---Gyarados was mighty, but when compared to Rayquaza it was much like a cannon compared to a nuclear weapon---Kiako realized the situation's inevitability and ordered the dragon to turn around and face off the Lord of the Sky.

WE STAND NO CHANCE AGAINST HIM, MASTER. WE WILL BE DESTROYED.

Kiako nodded, his red eyes glowing. "I know that's what'll probably happen, but if we're going to die, let's not die like cowards."

He pulled out a small device from his gunna, a small and seemingly harmless contraption that fit comfortably in the palm of his hand. An old relic of the Second Kingdom, it was, and it had served him well when all else had failed. Giovanni had given it to him before he left for the Sea Pearl, a sort of a parting gift.

"This once ruled the world of man," the dark man had told him. There was a grave seriousness in his eyes when he handed over the weapon. "And it may rule it again."

As Gyarados opened its razored maw, energy crackling and sparking in the back of its throat, Kiako thumbed back the hammer of his revolver and aimed it at the approaching Rayquaza. Probably wouldn't do much, even if he hit it, but he couldn't use his psionics at this range, and he'd be damned if he went down without so much as a parting shot.

Rayquaza lunged in and fired again, the edge of the beam raking Gyarados' tail, and the pair returned fire. Gyarados' massive and unwieldy Hyper Beam missed wildly as the Lord twisted through the sky; Kiako fired off all six shots from his revolver with the speed of a natural-born gunslinger, but the four that hit home did not even break the dragon's skin.

With no chance to reload (not that it would do any good), and Gyarados unable to match Rayquaza's rapid-fire abilities, Kiako closed his eyes and sighed.

The end.

Damn it, and he was just starting to have fun, too.

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

Hundreds of miles away and with their feet firmly on the ground, Slash and Gardevoir stood together silently, watching the day's warm and sunny fullness come on.

Despite being on the well-used Mauville-Verdanturf route, they were not bothered by anyone. The trainers who used the fields gave Slash a wide berth, knowing that he would be focusing on the night's upcoming battle, and the Mauville citizens were too busy spreading the word about the big event, making their bets and predictions, to try and hunt down the elusive young man.

Around the trainer and his Kaishakunin, the other Pokemon napped peacefully. There was no point in training now; there would be little noticeable increase in their power by nightfall, and they needed to be fresh and rested beforehand.

Gardevoir sent the sensation of her hand over her master's, resisting the urge to snuggle close to him. Gods, it was tempting...his solitary posture, leaning against the tree with a furrowed expression...he was just so adorable. He was just begging for it, begging to be touched. But the same tree that made her feel so comfortable being with him, the one they'd shared their dreams under, was also a concrete reminder of why she could not do so. Especially not with the added attention the upcoming Gym battle was bringing.

Thankfully they were not limited to mere physical interaction.

Placing a delicate ghost-kiss on his cheek, she smiled at her mate. Something seems to be bothering you, master.

Slash smiled back at her humorlessly. "That obvious, huh?"

Mm-hm. Second thoughts about the battle?

"No."

Then what?

There was a brief pulse of hesitation, and Gardevoir was again struck by how strong their bond had become, even with her well-constructed shielding. She knew she could break through his defenses with absolutely no effort, just as he could do with her, and take the knowledge from his mind...but knowing how much humans valued their privacy, she forced herself to curb her impatience. Slash had been doing so well with the bond's connection so far, and did not want to frighten him into resistance.

Her patience paid off. "I was just thinking about changing the team make-up." He gave her a worried glance. "Maybe...maybe we should have Growlithe as our reserve instead of you."

Why?

"Well, Watson might have a Magneton, so it might be helpful if we have a fire-type, just in case."

Gardevoir sighed, seeing through his foolish talk without needing to check their bond, and again had to resist an urge to wrap her arms around him. Do you remember what I told you this morning, about what the female does when the dominant male doubts himself?

A brief and furtive mental image flared through his mind, coloring his face (and hers, as well). "Uh...as much as I'd like to repeat that, I'm not sure it would help in this situation...plus, you know, we're outside..."

Laughing prettily, she play-slapped his shoulder, idly wondering if there was anywhere they could sneak off to outside. I didn't mean that, silly. I don't just submit to you in bed, master...I submit to you in all things.

"Psymakio, I'm still not sure I'm comfortable with the whole...submission thing. Especially not outside of the bedroom. I'm trying, I promise that I am, but it will take some time."

Alright then, let me phrase it differently. I am willing to fight for you. I want to fight for you. I'm not just your mate, master, I'm also your Pokemon, and all that that entails. I know that you want me to simply remain by your side, safe from harm and worry---that's the instinctively dominant part of you talking, by the way, wanting to defend your mate---but that's not what I can do, not in our situation.

"Yeah, but this isn't a fight with Team Aqua or Kiako, it's a completely optional Gym battle. There's no reason for you to risk injury over something so...inconsequential."

Let me ask you something. You're fine with asking Growlithe and the others to fight for you tonight. What makes their role any different than mine?

Slash paled a bit. "I...they...fuck, Psymakio, you know I can't be comfortable asking you to do it, not after what we did last night. Our bond is different from the one I share with them."

And yet you asked me this morning without any hesitation.

"Yeah, but I was all excited and pumped up then...and maybe I was still feeling a little crazy from our...you know...dominance experiment. But now that I've had more time to think about it...well, you have to admit that Growlithe would be better for the reserve role, right? In case Watson whips out a Magneton?"

Your rationalization for it earlier was that we needed raw power in the reserve slot, and we all agreed that I am currently the best for that; your plan for the first part of the battle would also hinder Growlithe in the final stretch. Besides, if your plan works as well as we hope, I won't even be needed.

"Even if it does work, I think it'll be a close one. You'd be damn near sure to see combat."

Maybe. But I still think I'd be best for it. But master, let me ask you something...and listen closely to what I am about to say. What will people think if they notice that I never fight for you in typical battles? I am your Kaishakunin...most people around here know that now, and more still will learn it as we travel on. Trainers usually use their Kaishakunin for battle more than their other Pokemon, so what will people think if they notice that you instead keep me on the sidelines while you send your other Pokemon out to fight?

She waited a moment while Slash considered her words. Maybe later he'd be willing to accept that her desire to submit to him did not end at the bedroom door---not just because they were mates, but because she was Gardevoir, and her kind naturally submitted to their trainers---but if she had to use a bit of logic to help guide her master now, she could do so. His concern touched her, made her heart glow warmly, but her mate had to know that if she was in with him, she was in all the way.

His trainer career, while insignificant compared to the goal of stopping Team Aqua and Kiako, was still something he cared about a great deal. She would not allow him to sacrifice that dream for her safety.

Slash looked back at her with hesitant and pained eyes. "I just don't want you to get hurt. It'd be one thing if you got hurt fighting our enemies...no less painful for me, but maybe a bit more understandable...but this Gym fight is just...sport."

One day, when he had a growth of years, Slash would look back on this conversation and wonder how he could have ever been so hesitant and uncertain, especially after the surety he'd shown earlier. But right now he was little more than a frightened child who didn't want his best friend to be hurt, and all the logical arguments in the world couldn't ease that fear one bit. He knew that it was exceedingly rare for Pokemon to be seriously hurt in trainer battles, and that it was near impossible in a highly-controlled Gym setting, but for now even that knowledge was useless. So when Gardevoir took his hand and surrounded him with a psychic embrace, he simply let himself be held, trying to lose himself in the sweetness of it, hoping to find courage in their bond.

Master, I am yours, and I want to be yours in every way. Your friend. Your lover. Your warrior. And part of you needs this life, as we all do. We need to keep up appearances. We need the challenges to grow stronger and keep up with our enemies. And yes, we need the thrill of it---the thrill that I sense in you when you think about tonight's battle, even now. And you know what? I feel the thrill, too. Part of me wants to win this fight as much as you, essential or not. And there's no shame in admitting that.

We must stand together in all things; not just you and me, but us and the others, too. Anything you ask them to do, you must be willing to ask me to do. No matter what. It's the only thing that's right.

Slash was silent for a more than a minute. What he said next to Gardevoir startled her badly.

"Psymakio..."

Yes?

"Go in my mind. My...void. Whatever it is."

Nodding hesitantly, unsure of what he wanted, she closed her eyes and effortlessly slipped into their bond, passing into the bright void of his mind. She floated amongst the countless doors, swimming through her lover's heart, and yet she sensed something troubling in his thoughts.

"Find the door for my...hesitation on this issue. My doubts."

She looked around and found it quickly; it was trembling in its frame, with a bright purple light shining from underneath it.

Master?

"...break it."

What!?

"You heard me, break the doorknob. Lock it up, put boards over it, something. I know you can do it. Make it so I don't feel it anymore."

Master, no! I will not!

"Come on. I know I won't stop feeling this way about you, not in a million years. Just break it and let me lose all that fear and hesitation."

Gardevoir sternly shook her head---both the mental one and the physical one. No, master. And not just because it is wrong to do so. One cannot simply go in another's mind and start locking up doors and breaking them down! There's a risk of destroying the mind permanently, and it's much greater than you would think, even when someone experienced does the breaking. I love you, master, but I will not do this for you.

She ran a hand over the door, feeling the very texture of his being, and then leaned forward and kissed the wood. Slash felt the kiss as an odd warmth that started to drive away the fog of worry that had coalesced around his heart; the door's fevered trembling lessened greatly.

I know it may not feel like it to you, but the amount of doubts you have has gone down significantly since we mated...since this conversation began, even. And it will diminish and fade in time, I promise. There are ways that I can affect your mind without destroying it, master. So please, let me do my duty. Let me submit to you in all things, whether it be in your bed, in our travels, or even just for sport. I will not let you throw away your dreams because of how you feel for me.

She blinked, bringing herself out of his mind and back into the real world. He squeezed her hand, only reluctantly letting go (although the thoughts of other people had nothing to do with the action). His exhaled breath was deep and pained.

"You know I won't be totally comfortable with it."

I know.

"Not now, possibly not ever."

I believe that you'll handle it better than you think, but...yes. I know.

He was quiet for a moment, then looked up and into her fiery red eyes with faint glimmers of wetness in his own icy blue gaze, and the sight of those tears nearly broke her heart.

He was so strong, yet he was still only a child. She told herself that she would need to remember that when asking things of him. He was still young, younger than herself in terms of mental development, and she couldn't expect him to adapt to her ways so quickly. The worry in his eyes was so great that she was almost ready to recant all her words, tell him that she was sorry to have asked him to let her fight and agree to anything he asked, even the re-shaping of his very mind if he asked it of her, when he spoke.

"Promise me that you'll be careful. I know that Pokemon battles rarely result in permanent injury...the consensual ones, anyway...but still...promise me. I won't let you fight unless you do."

A human girl would likely have scoffed at such an attitude---how dare he, who was he to say whether or not he'd 'let' her fight?---but she was not human. The combined mating bond and trainer bond, wrapped up into something far greater than the sum of their parts, was enhancing her instinctual desires that demanded her submission. And she would not argue with the ragged torrents of compassion that poured from her mate, either.

No, this determination was exactly what she'd wanted him to feel.

I promise.

"Promise me that if I want you to return to me in battle, you will do so without any hesitation. No unnecessary heroics."

I promise, master.

Slash sighed, slid his back down the tree until he was sitting on his haunches, and motioned for her to sit down with him. She set herself down beside him with her usual silver grace, starting to lose herself in the sweetness of his mental signature.

"Then it's okay. I'll let you fight. Even if I'm not especially happy about it."

Thank you, master. Now you have to promise me something...promise me that you'll never ask something of the other Pokemon unless you'd be willing to ask me to do so, too. Promise me that when it comes to your trainer career, I am the same as them. I do not want any special treatment.

He opened his mouth to argue, but shut it just as quickly. She was right. Everyone in their little pack had to be equal, willing to give and take for each other, if they were going to survive.

"Yeah. Yeah, fine, okay, I promise. Now shut up and kiss me before I change my mind."

Gardevoir knew she shouldn't...never outside, especially not near a town, especially not a town full of people gossiping about them...but the power of their bond was too great to be denied. He needed her to restore his self-confidence, needed her to give him strength, and nothing in the world would stop her from giving it to him. She leaned forward and kissed him softly, the thoughts of shouting and beatings and switchblades temporarily out of her mind.

Now listen to me closely, and mark my words well. Fate is not tolerant of stupidity, but it is, on occasion, merciful towards love...particularly young love. It spared the pair this time, allowing their kiss to go unnoticed amongst the flowered fields of the pass, preventing any prying eyes from falling upon them...but I tell you, readers, that fate's patience and mercy has its limits.

It would not protect them forever.

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

A few hours before the fight, with all his Pokemon well-rested and raring to go, Slash decided to head out to the Gym's main arena, so he could get a look at things before the crowds began showing up.

The arena, at the heart of the Gym facility, was far larger than the one in Dewford. Hell, the facility in Dewford was little more than a large sparring chamber, only able to accommodate a hundred or so spectators (although there had been far less for him; he had been a mere greenhorn at the time, after all). This enormous chamber was huge, echoing, and could probably seat nearly ten thousand people---the entire population of Mauville. The empty stands started at the top of the combat zone's ten-foot-high retaining walls and rose into the now-murky-dark of the rafters. Slash shuddered as he felt the weight of thousands of phantom eyes on him and his team.

And those eyes would be real very soon.

The battle area itself was large as well, although mostly non-nondescript. No structures to provide cover, no water pools, nothing but a smooth stone floor and those retaining walls. During the actual battle, the trainers would be protected from the battle's intensity by shields, just as the audience would, and the combat zone would be a box-shaped prison that stretched from ground to roof.

Slash grinned a bit at that, a grin of competitor's delight. Perfect. It was a straight-up brawl that he wanted---needed---and with no natural cover, it would be what he got. The space was wide enough for evasion, yes, but if things went well, Watson's Pokemon would not be able to evade at all.

Looking down at his Pokemon, his smile softened. His team. His friends. They'd come a long way, hadn't they? And they'd all changed so much in such a short time.

He gazed at his beautiful mate and saw a ghost of a frightened, crying child, one who he once gave ice cream to after she won a battle and won his heart.

He smiled down at his faithful fiery companion by his heels and saw the ghost of a playful puppy that once slept on the foot of his bed every night, one who would light up the room back when he was still scared of the dark.

He looked at the small and feisty friend by his feet, the one who had stared death in the face without blinking, and saw the ghost of a grumbling mess of claws that he fished up from a dirty pond, one who occasionally stole food from his backpack and believed that his trainer didn't know about it.

He glanced over at the strong, powerful warrior to his left, and saw a ghost of a tired and bleeding ball of rock that had been attacked by a huge flock of Zubat in the caves of Dewford---and would have likely died had he not come along.

He stared at the sparking thunder-runner, the one who had once blown the wings off of a Golbat twice his size, and saw the ghost of a growling, territorial creature that had tried to hide its fear when the dark-haired human had stumbled upon it and only partially succeeded.

And then he considered himself. Inside him was the ghost of a young boy who used to play with action figures and throw crumbs to the Taillow that nested outside his house; a ghost who left on an arduous journey not so long ago, expecting nothing more difficult than a little homesickness and a case of the shits when he ate some fruit that was less than ripe.

He'd grown up quite differently, hadn't he?

Now he was a man...a young man, say true, and one who hadn't left all of his boyhood behind him...but a man nonetheless. He was on the prod for a twisted (and most assuredly not human) monster that had killed several people right before his very eyes, one who sought a terrible and mysterious power for his own malignant designs. He was a member of Team Aqua---fuck, what would his mother think if she found that out?---and planning to destroy the legion of terrorists from the inside.

In other words, he was trying to save the world. A kid who still had trouble with the twelves multiplication tables was expecting himself to be able to save the world. He wasn't even sure what he was saving it from---the Prophesy had not cleared that up for him---and he still didn't know why he hadn't just told the Slateport police everything he knew and left it to them.

Why had he insisted on taking this burden onto himself? Was it because he didn't trust humanity to be smart enough to save itself? Was it because Kiako made him enraged and bloodthirsty and infuriated on some deep, primal level that he didn't quite understand? Or was it just foolish, youthful pride---I can do it and I don't need the police or Watson or anyone other than myself and my Pokemon?

He was not sure. But that uncertainly did not shake his resolve: on the issue of Kiako and Team Aqua, the dominant part of him was most insistent.

Gardevoir moved a step closer to him, not making physical contact but providing a soothing comfort nonetheless. He knew that she could sense the conflicting emotions swirling about within him, and he accepted her comfort gladly.

Master, before you ask...I've talked it over with the others. We all agree to fight for you, whether it be against our enemies or for your career. You do not have to worry on that account.

Slash looked a bit startled at that. "You're sure? All of you? I had a chance to ask her earlier, but...you're all really sure?"

The Pokemon exchanged a few glances amongst themselves, then all looked over to Gardevoir and let out a brief, concurrent chorus of barks and growls. She smiled prettily and let out a soft chirp in reply before turning to her mate.

They are sure. After all, that's what they agreed to when you caught them, isn't it? Just because your career is no longer our top priority does not mean it isn't a priority at all. It is the nature of Pokemon to serve man like this.

He opened his mouth, about to once again tell her that he was not comfortable with the idea of being dominant over them, when she stopped him mid-word by sending a strange (yet familiar) feeling over their bond, one she kept in her heart ever since he'd sent it to her, saving it for an occasion when he lost his nerve. It was the feeling he had when they were about to make love this morning, when he first realized that the role of dominance was not to control or enslave, but to protect.

To love.

The feeling she sent now was laced with the same romance and longing he'd had at the time, but he knew instinctively that the same realization of the role of dominance also applied to his friends.

It is not demeaning to us, master. We protect you, and you protect us. You give us guidance, friendship, and structure...we give you our obedience. We love you, master...and this is how we show it. So do not worry. Be confident in yourself, lead us to the best of your ability, and we will never doubt you.

She lay a slim hand on his shoulder, and the other Pokemon nodded. Slash looked at each in turn, giving a longer gaze on the three who would fight for him tonight, and smiled. The feeling Gardevoir sent was settling back into his core, giving him confidence and showing him the truth in her words. And on the edges of his mind, he felt that he could actually sense the other Pokemon's agreement. Maybe, with the gift of their bond, he actually could.

"Alright. I understand, Gardevoir. I promise that I won't doubt you...any of you...again. If there's anything that can help us beat Watson tonight, any edge that we need, it's confidence in ourselves...so let's get ready to kick some ass."

"Grow!"

"Trike!"

"Corr!"

"Gravel."

Master, Gardevoir whispered, and placed another whispery kiss on Slash's lips. She was burning hot for him now, electrified by the growing sense of dominance building in her mate, wanting him to take her again. It excited the part of her that craved such strength, and if they'd been alone, she'd have...well, she'd have let him do anything he wished.

She turned back to Slash, who was looking away from her and blushing, and she simultaneously cursed and blessed their perfected bond's strength. It was so nice to not have to worry about expressing her feelings to him, but it was also so distracting to know that he knew when she was longing for him.

And distracting to see his mind conjure up ideas for what they could when they were alone.

After the alphas of the pack had shaken off their excitement (or rather, tucked it away for future use), the entire team focused again on the arena, pondering the battle that lay ahead. Slash knew that Watson would almost certainly bring his Manectric out...his Lanturn, too, which is why Graveler was not going to join the battle. What else did the old man have? Other than a brief glimpse of those two Pokemon at the attack on the town's Pokemon Center, the only time he'd seen Watson fight was during the Magma assault. But he'd been so woozy from blood loss and grief at the time that he couldn't quite remember the Gym Leader's team. There was a Magneton...he was almost sure of that...but there were others, and their forms and names lay beyond his misty memory. Either he simply did not remember what they were, or they were Pokemon he had never seen before.

While it was possible that Watson would use the three Slash knew about, it was unlikely. At least one, and possibly two (and potentially all three) of the Pokemon would be surprises. And while the team make-up should not matter when confronted with his plan, it was troubling. The old man was neither gullible nor predictable.

"Excuse me, are you Slash Firestorm?"

Slash turned to see a deceptively sharp-eyed man standing nearby, clipboard in hand. An impressive-looking Xatu, its eyes gazing blankly--but not blindly---into the distance, sat perched on his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Hello. I'm Rictor Kimura, and I'll be the Pokemon League Administrator for your match. You've been in Gym battles before, correct?"

"Yeah, this is my third time." Slash opened up his jacket, displaying the two badges he'd earned so long ago. Well, not that long ago...but it felt much longer than it was. Corphish had dealt the blow that earned him the first; Ralts had won the second.

Rictor nodded, standing back on his heels to get a good look at the dark-haired trainer. "You're awfully young. Damn impressive for you to have beaten Brawly at your age...I was nineteen when I earned my second badge." He locked eyes with Slash. "I don't mean to disparage Brawly, but Watson's in a whole other league than him. You sure you're ready to confront the old man?"

"I'm sure. We're sure."

"Scared?"

"No," Slash replied. It was the truth.

"Nervous?"

"Yes." And that was the truth, too.

Rictor smiled. "You're right to be. I've officiated at maybe a hundred of his battles, and he always brings something new and devastating with him...and since he's particularly fond of you...well, I wish you luck, Slash, because he'll be going all out against you."

"Thanks."

"If you want, we can get the pre-fight business out of the way right now and save some time."

"Alright. Come on, guys."

The team followed Rictor into one of the Gym's many offices. This was all standard procedure, and Slash had been through it before. The Administrator was informed of which three Pokemon Slash was intending to use. He measured their height and weight, gave them a basic physical to ensure they were all healthy and had no significant injuries, and then scanned their power levels.

"I wasn't sure I'd believe it until I saw it," Rictor told him. "Your Pokemon are so young, but they have great power within them. Your Gardevoir is particularly impressive, although I'm a little confused about her..."

Slash's eyebrows raised. "What do you mean? Is something wrong with her?" His first terrified thought was that he somehow knew that the two of them had been mated. There was no way a scan could reveal that, of course...not unless it could somehow detect their bond...but the illogicality of the thought did not diminish the panic it caused him.

It never occurred to him that the Administrator's Xatu might be able to sense it; however, fate was yet again kind. Xatu's abilities were primarily pre-cog and post-cog, and its progging abilities were not sufficient to tell the difference between a standard Gardevoir-trainer bond and a mating bond. And even if it could, Gardevoir had shielded the bond well, and only a very powerful Pokemon would be able to sense the truth.

Rictor gave Slash a reassuring look. "Nothing's wrong with her...it's just that she is level twenty-eight, and Gardevoir typically evolve at level thirty or higher. Not only that, but it looks as though she's been fully evolved for nearly a week...it's incredible. Very unusual."

Slash sighed in relief; although her early evolution did surprise him, it was nothing to be concerned about right now. "How does she compare to Watson's Pokemon?"

"You know I'm not allowed to talk to you about that. All I can say is that your three Pokemon are strong enough for me to allow the battle. That doesn't mean that they can win, but they're tough enough that they won't get killed in a single shot."

"And you can promise me that they won't get hurt too badly?"

"Yes. I know that the Rustboro and Dewford Gyms weren't as big as this one, but they had fairly good safety measures, right? The Mauville Gym is much more tightly controlled, since Watson's Pokemon---and thus the challenger's Pokemon---are so powerful. I'll be watching the Pokemon's status constantly, and end the match if I consider anyone too injured to fight. Xatu will take care of the rest."

Electrike let out a questioning bark; he had not been in Slash's team for any Gym battles. His trainer knelt down and stroked his fur, feeling the static make his hand tingle. "Administrators always have a Xatu with them...they're Psychic Pokemon that can see a few seconds into the future, so they can see if anything catastrophic is about to occur, like a quick instant kill or amputation or something. If they foresee something like that, the Administrator either ends the match or pauses it for a few seconds, to reset the future's events."

The Pokemon made a skeptical bark of a reply, and Gardevoir knelt down beside her trainer.

He is right, Electrike. Xatu are among the most powerful pre-cogs in the Pokemon world, far better at seeing the short-term future than even my kind. They really can do that if they are powerful enough---

"I can assure you that nothing will go wrong. My Xatu is well-trained, and no Pokemon has been seriously injured or killed under my watch. Never fear."

Gardevoir sighed at Rictor interrupting her. She'd forgotten that humans (other than her trainer and mate) could not hear her. Slash smiled at her as she stood up in a slight huff, and his face quickly eased her irritation.

Electrike looked satisfied with Rictor's explanation, although he would likely have agreed to fight even without the safety precautions; all the Pokemon would. It was in their blood, after all.

"I have to go set up the scanning equipment in the arena. The fight is in an hour. I wish you luck." Rictor pulled out a disk from the scanning equipment and pocketed it, shook Slash's hand, and then headed back out to the arena.

It was almost time.

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

Far away, in a dimly-lit office in Kanto, Giovanni was growing concerned.

Kiako was supposed to have reported in an hour ago, and the red-eyed freak was typically very punctual. He had tried to contact him several times, but was only met with static.

He supposed it was possible that Kiako had to turn his communicator off for some reason, although Giovanni doubted it greatly. He'd given Red-Eyes explicit orders to go straight to Fallarbor and retrieve the Pearl, and while he often wandered off to cause mischief when he didn't have a specific mission, Kiako had never disobeyed a direct order before.

No...something was wrong.

But what? Team Aqua? Kiako shouldn't be in Hoenn yet, and even if he'd taken the jet stream as a shortcut (which was possible; he was capable of enduring damn near any conditions), he'd only be arriving there just now. Besides, no Aqua could ever hope to defeat Kiako. Not by a long shot. Even their leader Archie would only last a few seconds against him.

The Hoenn police? Unlikely. Kiako believed he slipped out of Slateport without being seen, and Giovanni had enough confidence in his skill to believe it, as well. Besides, Kiako would be traveling by air, and in the unlikely event that the police engaged him over open ocean, his Gyarados was very powerful and would not fall easily.

No, neither of those possibilities were actually possibilities. So what, then?

Giovanni rolled the Fire and Sea Pearls in his hands. He should have known better. From the moment Sai had reported that the Sky Pearl was in Fallarbor, things seemed too easy. Why should the last Pearl, the one that would show the way to the Princes---and eventually the King---be the easiest to obtain?

It worried him. All his greatest plans had been foiled before, and often by his own arrogance. He believed that he had corrected his flaws...that he had built a better Team Rocket, learned to temper his impatience and confidence with foresight and realism...but what if he'd made a mistake?

After all, the last time he believed the world was in his grasp, his own arrogance had caused his greatest weapon to rebel, to escape his grasp forever, so---

Wait. Wait just a fucking minute there.

A thought.

A terrible thought.

What if Kiako had rebelled, too?

That would be absolutely catastrophic. And terribly ironic, as well. Kiako following his predecessor's footsteps even if he did not know it?

But why would he do that? The Pearls? No, no. If Kiako planned to betray him and wake the King himself, he would have taken the two Pearls along with him. There was little chance that he could steal the Pearls later---not even Kiako could breach Rocket Headquarters, and even now, after all these years, Giovanni was still capable of thrashing him single-handedly. No, even if Kiako had only considered betraying him after leaving headquarters, he would know that such a plan would never work.

And Kiako would not betray him for no reason. Mewtwo had rebelled because it wanted to be free; Kiako was not a prisoner. He was allowed to come and go as he pleased, as long as he submitted to Giovanni's orders, and hell, Kiako held almost as much power within Rocket as he did himself: why would he want to be free of having such power at his command?

A coup, then?

No, not that either. While their initial contact hadn't been very loving, Giovanni knew that Kiako legitimately respected him, and he had promised to share power with the red-eyed monster...a promise that he had kept. Comic book villains may betray everyone they work with, but Giovanni was no cackling madman. Despite all of Kiako's failings, the old Rocket leader legitimately cared for him. Loved him, probably not, but cared for him? Yes indeed. After all, Red-Eyes was the closest he had to a son now.

That line of thought soothed Giovanni a bit. Kiako felt similarly towards him, he was sure. Neither of them were likely capable of love, but respect? Admiration? Yes.

There was no way that Kiako had betrayed him. He did not know the circumstances of his creation. He had no idea that Giovanni was, in a way, his father. And even if he did find out that Team Rocket had deemed him a failure, believed him dead, and dumped him out like cheap trash, Giovanni wasn't sure that Kiako would still hold it against him.

After all, he'd lived, hadn't he? Grew up, grew strong, and unwittingly returned to the father he never knew. He'd inherited the organization, even as the failure that he was. Yes, even if Kiako knew, it was unlikely that he would care.

So something else was obviously wrong, and until he knew what had happened, Giovanni was not going to jump to any conclusions and put a termination order out. Kiako may have been a failure it terms of his original purpose, but he had still been a powerful, valuable warrior.

And, to be honest, the two of them needed each other.

Giovanni's only biological son had betrayed him.

Kiako's adoptive parents---the ones who found the twisted baby after the Rockets who stole his 'remains' had been terminated---they had betrayed him, too.

Both sought power, respected the other, and was willing to work together to attain their goals. And somewhere along the way they'd become a little family.

Somewhat of a dysfunctional family, say true, but about the best one can expect from a pair of sociopaths, don't you think?

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

The Gym Arena was utterly packed.

Slash's estimation of the seating capacity was not far off; nine thousand two hundred and eighty-nine of Mauville's citizens (all but four nurses and a pregnant mother whose time had come) were in attendance, along with another seventy spectators from Verdanturf. The crowd was absolutely wild, bursting with more enthusiasm than they had in a long time. There hadn't been a crowd this big since Watson fought Lieutenant Surge four years ago.

Tonight, they would be watching the great Master of Thunder fight the town's new hero, Slash Firestorm. And it promised to be amazing.

Slash was chagrined at the amount of attention and cheers he was getting, unable to understand why he was considered to be a hero. All he had done was knock out two Magma guards, do some repair and escort work, and take down a fair number of Magma Pokemon during the final assault; nothing insanely impressive (Watson had done quite a bit more himself). But when times are bad, as they were in Mauville for the past couple weeks, the people need a hero, and they will make one out of mediocrity if one cannot be found.

And so, on this night, nearly as many people were cheering for Slash as were for Watson. Considering that his last audience had been a small mob of Dewford-dwellers, Slash was utterly overwhelmed.

All his Pokemon, save Gardevoir, were in their Pokeballs, as was custom for Gym battles. The stasis-effect of the devices was turned off; they would be 'watching' the battle through mental-connection sensors, so they could be up-to-date when sent out.

Watson's Manectric, which Slash had initially believed was the old man's Kaishakunin, was conspicuously absent. Perhaps he did not have one...most trainers did not, after all. Still, it made Slash's guard go up---maybe Manectric was Watson's Kaishakunin, and was simply not present so that Watson could have a different Pokemon occupy its space.

"Ah, well, too late to change strategy now," Slash said to himself, barely able to hear his own voice over the roar of the crowd.

Now the huge viewscreen, hanging high over the battlefield, lit up in a burst of light, showing close-ups of him and Watson on split-screen. Three red lights lit up beneath their images, representing the night's program of a two-on-two battle with one reserve Pokemon each.

The lights over the audience began to dim, with the spotlights all focusing on the combat area below. The milling spectators rushed back to their seats, popcorn and soda in hand. The cheers only began to quiet down when Rictor took his place at the Administrator's stand.

"Ladies and gentleman of the Great Crossroads, Mauville City---"

A fresh burst of cheers from the hometown pop---

"I welcome you to tonight's main event!"

The crowd's roar swelled to full force again, and Slash was a bit bemused to hear his name being chanted over and over by a good number of them. It occurred to him that his parents were almost certainly watching this from home---hell, most of Oldale probably was---and he had to swallow back some stage fright. He hadn't called home in a while, so he had no idea what his parents would say about his recent accomplishments.

Despite the attention-demanding situation unfolding before him, he idly wondered if his mother would approve of Gardevoir. Not that he ever intended to tell her, but still.

"Tonight's battle is between a legendary Pokemon master and a young newcomer, a fight between the generations! First let me introduce a man who needs no introduction but will get one anyway...the town Gym leader, the legendary Master of Thunder, Watson Kincade!"

Enormous blasts of cheering; Mauville clearly loved its leader and greatest trainer, and the shouts echoed from the front row all the way to the rafters, actually making the ground tremble a bit from the shouting. Gardevoir covered her sensitive ears with small psychic shields, and Slash couldn't help but smile at that.

When the outpour finally began to die down, Slash felt his breath tighten, and his heart seemed to stop and race simultaneously. He knew what was coming next, and it was, quite frankly, terrifying. He began to worry frantically about all the eyes that would be on him...and his Kaishakunin. And while he knew that those roaming eyes would be taking in his expression, measuring his strength and admiring his boldness, he would still feel like they were watching him instead, measuring him, scanning him, looking for signs of fault.

Gardevoir had discreetly moved a few steps away from him during Watson's ovation, and Slash was impressed by her foresight. He had been concerned that she would panic, but she pleasantly surprised him with her self-control; while there would have been nothing wrong with her standing right next to him or holding his hand during the introduction, it still made her master feel a tad more comfortable.

"And the challenger, hailing from Oldale Town, the Magma Slayer..."

Slash couldn't help but burst out laughing at that, instantly dispelling his stage fright. Magma Slayer? Dear gods, did the children of Mauville think that one up? They were sure fishing for heroes around here, huh?

"...Slash Firestorm!"

The cheers weren't as loud as they were for Watson, but they were close. His panic shaken off by his laughter (Magma Slayer? Watson would never let him live that down), he couldn't help but reach over and take one of Gardevoir's small, soft hands in his own and raise their linked hands into the air in a cheering gesture.

Still, it wasn't until the crowd's roar actually swelled, instead of being replaced by jeers, that he was able to relax.

He released her hand and gave his mate a happy, confident smile...and, unseen by the thousands of spectators, the two exchanged a kiss that was not in the least bit visible, but not in the least bit imaginary.

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

Across the combat zone, fifty or more yards away, Watson was smiling.

Yes, this was what he had been waiting for.

He'd had some great fights over the years, some real heart-racers, but he could tell that this one was going to be the best. Because this boy would be different. The bond that Slash shared with his Pokemon was as strong as his own, and he'd been with most of his Pokemon for years (and, in the case of Magneton and his reserve Pokemon, decades). Not only that, but with the connection he shared with his Gardevoir...well, who knew how much power Slash had been gifted with?

Watson's smile widened, and he dropped his hands to his belt. This fight was the best way to find out.

Rictor spoke again. "And now I, Rictor Kimura of the Hoenn Pokemon League, will begin this officially sanctioned Pokemon Gym Battle. There is no time limit, no out-of-bounds rules. Trainers, are you ready?"

Slash and Watson nodded together, and Gardevoir couldn't help but smile at the look in her master's eyes.

They were commander's eyes.

"Raise the audience shields."

The dozen or so Mr. Mime in the stands activated their barriers, raising a protective shield between the audience and combat zone that stretched from the tops of the retaining walls to the rafters. It gave out a faint, barely perceptible hum, the hum of power lines, that was almost impossible to hear over the general shifting and mutterings of the crowd. It was almost completely transparent, although a close glance would reveal the faintest of tints to it, an extremely pale blue that made Slash think of Gardevoir's battle aura.

"Watson Kincade, release your Pokemon!"

In most matches, a coin toss would decide which unlucky trainer had to show their hand first. But in this type of match, both competitors had to choose their team beforehand---only Rictor knew both trainers' arsenal---and so it was irrelevant. Another reason why Slash had chosen this type of competition...if he'd lost the coin toss, Watson would be able to see his trick right away and adjust accordingly.

A flash of light, and Manectric and Lanturn were out on the arena floor. Good. Perfect. As long as Watson didn't have anything crazy in reserve---

"Slash Firestorm, release your Pokemon!"

The black haired trainer's hands dropped to his belt with uncanny gunslinger speed, and he sent out his two warriors, the Pokemon that he had chosen with utmost care and the only two that would do in this situation.

Electrike and Corphish.

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

The audience gasped at the sight, a great deal of them questioning the admiration that they held toward the "Magma Slayer". How stupid was this boy? Electrike's attacks would be all but useless against other Electric Pokemon, and Corphish would be fried in seconds! They had been sure that the trainer would have whipped out his Graveler or Gardevoir, not these two!

Watson, though, did not let his guard down. On the contrary, he was impressed and a bit surprised at the choice. Few trainers as young and inexperienced as Slash would be able to think of such a plan. Of course, it did not change things...Watson still believed he could win, as Slash's clever strategy had left out one glaring weakness: Electrike would only protect Corphish from projected electricity. Not from direct electric contact.

A grave mistake.

"Boy, you've got spunk," the old man said approvingly. "But I have skill and experience. Spunk alone is not enough to beat me."

Slash grinned. Thoughts of the crowd above, of his parents and friends watching him at home, they all disappeared. Now it was just him and Watson...his Pokemon and Watson's Pokemon. Nothing more.

"Spunk isn't all I brought, Master of Thunder. You're about to find out just how clever I am."

"Raise trainer shields!"

The protective barriers extended to cover Slash, Watson, and the Administrator's stand, separating them from the chaos that was about to be unleashed. The open-roofed box was forged, and the die was about to be cast.

Electrike was excited: facing an older, stronger, faster specimen of his own kind? Getting to fight, and more importantly, run as fast as he could? This was everything he'd hoped for when he agreed to join Slash!

Corphish was nervous, however. He knew that, if the plan worked, he would not have to fear the deadly electricity that was beginning to arc between their opponents, but still...if it did not work, he would almost certainly be taken down immediately. And it would hurt a lot worse than Maxie's Camerupt, even if the actual damage would be less. But he had promised his trainer, the alpha of their pack, that he would do his best. And he would not falter, even if there was no plan in place.

He would do his duty, too.

Gardevoir had faith in her two friends, but she could also sense the confidence in Watson; while he had been a bit surprised by Slash's choice, he was not overly concerned. She couldn't read him clearly, but she had a feeling that he had his strongest fighter in reserve, just as her master did. She knew that she'd be getting involved in the fray soon enough. And while she did not feel panicked or worried, or feel the thrill of battle stirring her blood yet, she knew that once it was her turn, she would becoming as fierce and devastating as any of her friends.

Few things in the world are more determined than a Gardevoir fighting for her trainer.

Rictor's Xatu hopped on his shoulder and closed its eyes---but that did not mean that it could not see. On the contrary, it was seeing more now than many Pokemon saw in their lifetimes...the future. Only a few seconds into the future, say true, but still an impressive feat, and one of the most incredible examples of pre-cognition in any Psychic Pokemon. The Xatu's trainer grinned; he had a pretty swell job...one that always gave him a front-row seat.

And he was a bit curious as to how Slash would do. Could a sixteen year old boy really beat the Master of Thunder? Hell, he himself had been twenty-two when he beat Watson...on the fourth try.

Only one way to find out.

"Alright! Time to get this started! Let the battle begin!"

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

Lanturn couldn't wait to get started; no sooner had Rictor flashed the green light than he began to fire powerful Thunderbolts at Corphish, intending to take the little water Pokemon out of the game right away. But instead of destroying the crab in a hellstorm of voltage, the electricity was drawn straight to Electrike, harmless dissipating into its fur.

The crowd was surprised, but Slash was nothing but pleased. He really should have tested it with Gardevoir's new Thunderbolt earlier, but it didn't matter now; only the results did.

It worked. It really fucking worked.

He'd guessed correctly when he assumed that Watson's Manectric was single-gifted, a specimen bearing only one of the species' possible abilities; after all, what would be the point of having a Lightning Rod wielder when his entire team was composed of Electric types? They didn't need the protection, and it would fuck up their own offense.

Slash's own Electrike, however, was dual-gifted, possessing both the Static capability, providing deadly effectiveness in melee combat, and the Lightning Rod ability---the only reason that his team stood a chance of victory. Such a Pokemon was rare, and he hadn't even known his good fortune until he was jolted by Electrike when he accidentally tripped over him a couple days ago.

Before Watson could give his team a strategy to get around this, Electrike was running, running fast. It actually ran onto the retaining walls, ran across the walls like some sort of optical illusion, ran over the trainer and audience shields, circling the combat zone at extremely high speed.

Running on the fucking walls.

Watson's Manectric immediately took chase, and the battle was on.

The two runners raced over the walls, the stronger chasing the younger in hot pursuit. Manectric's electric blasts were useless due to Electrike's ability, and even though Electrike's own attacks would not circle back on himself, the type and level disparity was too great for any of them to be useful against the older Pokemon. No, it would have to be melee fighting, and while the stronger Manectric would surely best him in that...he would have to catch him first.

Electrike barked happily. Just let Manectric try!

Turning away from watching the two electric Pokemon chase each other at mad speed, the other two Pokemon stared each other down. Lanturn knew he was too slow to hit Electrike, at least while he was running on the walls like that, so he turned to the small crab in front of him, leaving the fast one to Manectric. It was only after a moment's pause that he realized something terrible about his chosen target: his water arsenal was almost useless against this particular foe.

Watson winced as he realized the mistake himself. He had considered the possibility of Slash using Electrike to cover his other Pokemon, but not Slash making his other Pokemon be the water-type Corphish. Like the crowd, he had expected the boy to be clever, but not too clever. He'd prepared for Electrike and Gardevoir, or Electrike and Graveler.

(Damn,) he thought to himself, (this kid is either very lucky or very crazy).

Turning back to the action, Watson realized that there was only one way for his water Pokemon to best Slash's.

"Lanturn, take it down from there! Long-range the bastard before it gets close!"

Lanturn quickly complied, firing off a barrage of everything he could muster---powerful Bubblebeams, great jets of Water Gun, even a few Signal Beams---but the water attacks all but bounced off of the charging crab, and the Signal Beams were too low-powered to do much damage, as he had only practiced it on a handful of occasions. Corphish quickly scuttered in and let loose his own barrage, a whirlwind of nipping, armored claws.

Physical combat was Corphish's forte; Lanturn was abysmal at it. Despite the power gap between the two (Slash might have reconsidered battling if he knew just how much Watson out-leveled him), the little crab was easily holding its own against the much larger beast, and was quickly gaining an advantage. Tough as Lanturn was, it could only withstand so many Vicegrips and scratches before falling, and its arsenal of long-range attacks (which, while mostly ineffective, were still stronger than its melee combat) was near-useless at this range.

The crowd was awestruck; the battle had barely begun and one of Watson's Pokemon was already in trouble. But the old man was no pushover, and neither were his Pokemon. Lanturn broke through a brief gap in Corphish's onslaught and struck with a Spark-enhanced tackle, and Corphish was sent flying across the battle zone, crying out in pain.

Slash winced; it had been a bad hit. Lanturn wasn't very impressive in terms of physical combat, not even when complemented with its special abilities, but it was unlikely that Corphish could handle another blow like that. Hell, he was surprised that the crab was climbing back up to its feet right now.

Electrike was in trouble, as well; Manectric had caught up to him and pounced, slamming him onto the floor. They were now attacking each other with vicious fangs and claws, using snarling brawling tactics instead of graceful and well-planned techniques, and Manectric was clearing dominating. Another minute or two and Electrike would be out for the count.

He had been hoping to save the next technique for later, as it might complicate things for Electrike, but with Manectric managing to capture him so quickly, risking Corphish losing his semi-effective electric immunity, Slash had no choice.

"Corphish! Secret plan! Do it now, and as much as you can!"

Any good trainer could tell you that, when it comes to Gym battles---especially battles that are not one-on-one---most of the work comes before the fight. The strategy, the enhancements, the actual training itself...the back-breaking and head-aching stuff is all pre-fight.

When he had let his team train in the fields outside of Mauville days ago, Slash had been surprised when he saw Corphish use this one of his natural techniques---although, considering the state of the body of water the Pokemon had been fished up from, he really should have expected it. In any case, the technique that many trainers considered useless was what they were really pinning their hopes on.

Corphish focused for a moment, ignoring the faint tingles that were still echoing throughout its body from Lanturn's Spark attack, and opened his claws wide, spewing out two seemingly-endless jets of thick, viscous mud. It flew out and covered the entire battle area floor, and this time, Watson was surprised.

In fact, for the first time thus far in the match, the old man realized that he might actually lose. He'd expect a close match, aye, but to lose against a sixteen year old boy who had maybe a month of experience under his belt? Was that even possible?

Still, Mud Sport...that was a move he hadn't counted on; it was a difficult move to use, requiring a great deal of physical stamina to be effective (to will earth out of nothing is no small feat, particularly for a non-Ground Pokemon), and it was rarely used in professional battles. So in most cases, the Pokemon utilizing it would simply cover themselves with a coating of mud, in which case Lanturn was more than capable of washing it off with a burst of water. But this Corphish had covered the entire floor of the combat zone with the damned stuff! That would be an amazing feat even for a Crawdaunt!

Corphish chirped happily, relishing the feeling of cool, wet mud under his claws and covering his shell. Electrike and Manectric would not be able to run in this mess (for better or for worse), and Lanturn would only be able to flounder about in the six-inch-deep goo, but this was home for him! Not only did it give him the mobility advantage, but the mud sticking to his shell would easily nullify any of the direct-contact electric attacks that circumvented Electrike's Lightning Rod---although with the amount of mud covering the floor (and yon crab), his ability was no longer needed to keep Corphish safe.

Electrike managed to wrestle free of Manectric's grip and get back to Corphish's side. Despite being filthy and covered in countless bites and scratches, he still had a good deal of steam left in him.

Slash breathed a sigh of relief. The hardest part of the battle, the preparations, was over. Now that Corphish had time to smack up Lanturn and build enough energy for the Mud Sport (which the crab's friend and rival Graveler had helped him hone into something of epic proportions), and Electrike had freed himself from the stronger Manectric's jaws, the playing field was firmly in their favor. Strong as Watson's Pokemon were, Lanturn was almost useless now, and Manectric would not be able to handle a two-on-one assault, especially with its running speed limited by the slippery mess. Unless the Gym Leader's last Pokemon was something utterly devastating, or somehow capable of dissipating the mud...

"Holy shit, they might actually win this," Slash whispered to himself, and Gardevoir smiled.

You really doubted that they could? After all your planning?

"Well, not really, but...I had to see it to believe it! I was worried that Watson would thrash us in less than a minute!"

It's not over yet, though, master. Don't let your guard down...they're not.

Slash nodded, leaning close to the barrier, his palms resting on the smooth, strong surface. He was not letting his guard down, not one bit. While the plan had gone off without a hitch thus far, Watson was no fool; if anyone could get their way out of such a situation, it was him. He watched the four Pokemon glare at each other, keeping his mind focused on the situation, ready to give any help that he could.

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

Rictor watched the standoff between the two pairs of Pokemon with something close to awe. It was clear that Watson had not planned for this contingency, but the old man was likely to recover quickly. Although, while the Master of Thunder likely had a trick or two up his sleeve, Slash could have some surprises left, as well.

Of course, considering what Watson's final Pokemon was, the younger trainer would need some rather impressive surprises, or else he would be in very serious trouble.

The Administrator grinned. The running, the slug fest, the mud-slinging...that had only been the warm-up. Now the fight was really about to begin.

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

The crowd was starting to roar again, chanting the names of their favored fighters. While the spectators still seemed closely divided, Slash thought that he could hear a slight volume increase in his favor.

He gave his Pokemon a close look. Corphish was practically bursting with anticipation, with no visible signs of his previous jolt. Electrike looked to be a bit worse for the wear, bleeding from a dozen shallow wounds. But that was what he expected; the first part of their battle plan was getting the electric immunity set up, with Electrike using up most of his energy distracting Manectric, the greater threat. Now that the plan had succeeded, it would be up to Corphish to do the hard work, with Electrike backing him up.

Watson assessed his own Pokemon. He'd instructed them to hold back early in the fight, in order to gauge Slash's strategy, and they had...although they found themselves having to hold back less than they had expected. Manectric had a few minor injuries---mostly bites and scratches---and was a bit out of breath; Electrike had been fast, damn fast. Lanturn was badly injured, but still looked more angry and humiliated than wounded, having been stymied by a much smaller and younger Pokemon.

The old man looked across the battlefield and saw Slash smiling at him. He smiled back. The boy wanted to take it up a notch? Wanted to see what he was made of? Alright then.

"You've done your homework, my boy. You've studied your movesets and your ability charts well. But judging from your actions thus far, you haven't done all your homework, have you?"

Slash's smile faded a bit. Was Watson just trying to mess with him? Or had he really missed something? He turned to Gardevoir with confusion in his eyes.

I don't think he's bluffing, master. He really believes that we didn't take something into account.

"What, though?"

Lanturn. Slow and virtually harmless once the Mud Sport was up. Only mildly dangerous afterwards, and even then only at a distance.

Manectric. Fast. Plan was to take him down by luring him close enough for Electrike and Corphish to double-team after Lanturn's defeat.

So what was he missing?

Watson laughed heartily at Slash's reaction, then turned to his Pokemon. "Manectric, give Lanturn a hand!"

Slash watched in stunned disbelief as Manectric Spark'ed his partner, using a direct-contact electric attack to avoid Electrike's deflection. He was absolutely clueless as to the reason for the friendly fire display...until he noticed that the large bruises and cuts on Lanturn, the ones that Corphish had inflicted only a few minutes prior, were disappearing.

After all his planning and studying and training, you might think Slash a fool for not researching Lanturn more carefully. Even if he didn't believe the chubby little fish to be a threat, any seasoned trainer knows that any enemy, regardless of the situation, can have an ace in the hole. But Slash was not a seasoned trainer...he had left home a month ago and never looked back, a greenhorn who had seen an opening in Watson's defenses and lunged for it without checking for potholes.

"A trainer who runs too quickly at an opening is just as likely to trip and fall as they are to attain victory." Koga, the legendary Master of Deception from Kanto.

Maybe Slash should have studied Koga's words a bit more carefully.

Lanturn didn't wait for Slash to puzzle out the situation, or for Watson to give any orders; he had been humiliated by the mud-covered crab, and he was going to have a victory over the little whelp. He fired off a flurry of Signal Beams and Psybeams, landing a few hits each on Slash's Pokemon before they could evade the volley.

"Stay apart!" Slash yelled, cursing himself for his lack of foresight. "Don't get close enough for him to fry both of you!"

Electrike and Corphish, scorched but still standing, stood their ground. Watson, however, was not going to stand by and give Slash enough time to devise a strategy. The time for planning had been before the match, and the old man had not been kidding when he told the boy that he would not hold back in the battle.

"Manectric, after Corphish! Lanturn, after Electrike! Take them down hard and fast!"

Corphish braced himself as the thunder runner charged him; the mud may have slowed him down, but he was still much faster than he could ever hope to match. The two collided in a mighty thud, Manectric's fangs locked around Corphish's claws, trying to crack the shell armor. Only the mud coating Corphish's body prevented him from being zapped by the contact.

Lanturn took aim at Electrike with his crackling and glowing antenna; while the mud had not slowed Manectric down, it was affecting the younger and less powerful Electrike significantly. A flurry of Bubblebeam jetted towards the Pokemon, just barely missing as they splattered jets of dirt and water into the air a few inches behind him.

As much as Lanturn wanted to get the KO on Corphish, he knew that his master was right; against Electrike, he would be able to use his water abilities to their full effect...and while the Mud Sport gave Corphish a degree of protection, it hindered Electrike enough to turn the tables.

Electrike no longer had the energy to run on the barrier walls; he hobbled through the mud in an awkward gait, just barely managing to avoid the aquatic onslaught. It was extremely unlikely that he would be able to get in close enough to maul the fish, not with the rapid firing volleys he was firing out, so Slash's team was right back to where they started: Electrike as the shield, Corphish as the hammer.

Despite his small size, the little crab was quite a large hammer, say true; it flung its arm with all its might, dislodging Manectric's razored teeth and sending the electric Pokemon flying and striking with his own deadly-efficient Bubblebeams before his opponent could recover. However, unless he got the win in quickly, Electrike would fall victim to Lanturn, and the battle would irreversibly turn to Watson's favor.

Manectric lunged in again, locking its jaws around Corphish's arm; seeing an opening, the crab quickly used his free claw and put it around the runner's throat, squeezing as hard as he could. His opponent yelped in pain, but did not release his grip, trying to cause enough pain and damage that Corphish would have no choice but to let go.

The crowd cheered at the test of wills, and both trainers urged their Pokemon on. Which would break first---Manectric's neck, or Corphish's will?

The Manectric's pained cries worried Slash; he wanted to win, not to crush the poor thing's throat, and he looked over at Rictor in concern. The Administrator was watching the match with apparent calm (although with a sheen of excitement-sweat on his brow), and the Xatu on his shoulder was continuing to stare off into the distance with its misleading vacant stare; apparently none of the combatants were at risk of death or severe injury.

Still, the whimpers hurt Slash's heart, and (not for the first time, not for the last) he began to reconsider his promise to keep working on his trainer career. Even if the Pokemon wanted to fight, was it right to use them like this? He turned to Gardevoir, wanting to know her reaction.

Do not worry, master. They enjoy this, in a way. And if it makes you feel any better, life is much harder---and much more violent---in the wild, and with fatal consequences for defeat.

Slash sighed, understanding Gardevoir's words to be true. He nodded and turned back to the match with a slightly less heavy heart...although his concern was not fully erased.

Before Rictor's Xatu could see any victory on Corphish's part, Lanturn ceased his targeting of Electrike and fired a mighty Hydro Pump at the struggling pair. The attack barely phased Corphish, and only ruffled the powerful thunder runner, but it did accomplish Lanturn's intent: the mud covering Corphish had been washed off.

Suddenly bolts of lightning began racking the crab's body as Manectric attempted to force his way to freedom with a direct-contact Spark. Corphish tried to keep his grip on Manectric's throat as hard as he could, but the splintering pain of the electricity was overwhelming, making his nerves send out blinding pulses of ice and fire, making his vision dance with red-and-black spots, and his shell began to crack in several places.

"No! Corphish, let go of him!" Slash yelled. When Corphish either did not hear or did not obey, he slammed a fist on the barrier and shouted it again. Rictor was looking down at the scanners with concern, and looked ready to declare defeat for the crab when Electrike, temporarily free of Lanturn's assault, tackled Manectric hard, breaking the Pokemon free of Corphish's hold and ending the terrible electric assault. Slash and Gardevoir breathed a sigh of relief, and Watson growled under his breath; just a few seconds longer and---

Covering himself with mud again, Corphish ignored the barrage of Psybeams from Lanturn and scuttered to Electrike's aid; Manectric had to be taken down now, before he could get a hold of him again. Damn, that had hurt, and he did not want to look down and see just how badly injured he was...it might make him lose his nerve.

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

"Anyone who claims that trainers win Gym battles is a fool. They may provide strategy, they may provide leadership, but when the climax of the fight comes, it is the Pokemon that seizes victory."

Bruno, the legendary Master of Will.

Wise words.

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

"Let me grab him!" Corphish yelled, racing to the blood-stained, static-charged balls of fur that were his friend and his enemy.

"You covered now?" Electrike panted, yelping as Manectric sunk his fangs into his flank.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine! Now let me have him!"

"He'll just fry you if Lanturn does his cleaning trick again!"

"I know! I'll hold him down, you get Lanturn to friendly fire him!"

Manectric growled and nearly pulled free, trying desperately to escape. If those two managed that, he would be done for!

Electrike body slammed Manectric over to Corphish, who locked his clawed arms around the runner's throat again. "Don't let him go, now!"

The crab laughed. "I won't, but you better hurry! I don't want another blast like that ever again! Hurt like hell!"

Nodding, Electrike immediately sprinted at Lanturn. He was running now, running full speed: Lanturn's Hydro Pump had left a single line of clean floor across the field, letting him run at full force. A Signal Beam hit him hard, drawing blood from his face; another struck him square in the chest, staining the soft fur crimson. He took it all, ignoring the pain, ignoring the injury, knowing that the match was now riding on him.

He grinned, his muzzle rising to expose his bloodstained needle teeth. Finally. Corphish had been their team's hammer the entire match, and now it was his turn! Well, he wouldn't really be the hammer so much as a running, evading anvil, but the principle was the same.

He was within a dozen yards of Lanturn when he stopped charging; he crouched down, looking as though he were about to pounce on the fish. And just as he'd hoped, Lanturn was pissed at him, pissed that he'd taken each of his attacks without flinching, and he let loose a hugely powerful Hydro Pump, planning to rip apart Electrike in mid-pounce.

Instead of jumping at him, however, Electrike leapt to the right, falling headlong into the thick mud. The water blast missed by a good yard, but continued on a straight and steady course. Lanturn realized his error now, all too late, realized why Electrike had charged him head-on: so that a missed attack would go straight across the battlefield, following the same path the first blast had, and hit the Manectric that was held in Corphish's grasp.

It hit hard, blasting the runner with enough force to scar stone, instantly rendering the wounded Pokemon unconscious. Most of the attack was absorbed by his body, and the portion of the blast that struck Corphish did minimal damage.

Lanturn looked on at the effects of his misfire in shock, unaware that Electrike was no longer sprawled in the mud, unaware that Electrike was sneaking up on his blind side with bared teeth and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The strike was deadly swift, brutally efficient; he pounced like lightning, keeping clear of the rapidly-firing antenna, biting and scratching every inch of rubbery flesh. Dropping the unconscious Manectric onto the floor, Corphish ran in on half-numb legs and delivered a mighty backhand to Lanturn's face with one hard claw, and the battle was over.

Or at least, this portion of it.

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

"Ladies and gentlemen, both Manectric and Lanturn are unable to continue! It is now a three-to-one battle!"

The crowd erupted as Lanturn fell into the watery mud, joining his partner in unconsciousness. Gardevoir chirped happily as well, but Slash watched the scene with concern, and Watson looked on with cautious measure.

True, the two young Pokemon had pulled through, but they were both badly injured. The old man was honestly surprised that either of them were still standing. Corphish was leaning on a bleeding Electrike, although neither looked like they'd be standing much longer.

Slash was not going to ask them to continue fighting. Whatever Watson's final Pokemon was, it would be fresh, and so it was unlikely that either of his Pokemon would get in any damage against it, anyway.

"I wish to withdraw my Pokemon, as well," he announced, and Rictor gave him a questioning look. "I don't want them to get any more hurt. Even if they've got some steam left in them."

"You're aware that you won't be able to use them again during this battle? Once withdrawn, your Pokemon are considered out of the fight."

"I'm sure."

Rictor nodded. "Alright. Lower the trainer shields!"

The humming dropped, and both Slash and Watson withdrew their Pokemon. The two trainers looked at each other with equal measures of challenge and respect.

Watson smiled at Slash from across the field. "Not bad, boy. Not bad at all."

"You didn't do so bad yourself, old man. Now let's see what you have left."

The spectators roared in the stands, crying out for the battle to continue. Already it had been an exciting match, and the two combatant's reserve Pokemon would likely be their best.

"Alright! Time for the finish! Each trainer is down to their reserve Pokemon. The young Slash has proven himself to be worthy of fighting on this great stage and against this great Gym Leader! Let's see if he has what it takes to advance on his Pokemon League challenge! Trainers, release your final Pokemon!"

Slash turned to Gardevoir, looking into her sparkling red eyes. He could feel the nervousness radiating off of her, but could also sense that doubt being replaced by something else, something he'd first felt when she was a small, innocent Ralts fighting a Makuhita in a dark arena: It was the desire to fight for her trainer.

But now it was augmented, and was much, much stronger than it had been back then. Now it was joined by her desire to fight for her mate, and the two feelings had combined into something far greater than the sum of their parts.

His silver angel had the heart of a fearsome warrior.

"Are you ready, Gardevoir?" Slash asked, placing a rough hand on her shoulder, feeling her warm skin under his palm. Hard to justify sending her out to fight, risking her beautiful skin being marred by injury, when Manectric's pained cries were still fresh in his mind. But when she returned his gaze, fiery red meeting icy blue, he remembered their promises to each other. He would let her fight for him, and she would promise to be careful.

Yes, master. I'm ready. I won't let you down.

He raised his hand up to stroke her cheek, but stopped in mid-motion and put it back on her shoulder.

I'm sorry that I can't give you a good luck kiss or anything, Psymakio.

It's alright, master. You gave me more kisses in the past twenty-four hours than I ever thought possible. They will last me through this battle.

Giving her a phantom kiss instead, she blushed and smiled. Her master was so sweet, so strong, able to do things that no other human could. And those help, too.

"I'm glad. Good luck. Be careful. And no matter what happens, remember that I'm proud of you."

And I love you.

He pulled her into a brief but fierce hug, hoping that it would look like camaraderie and not affection. When no beer bottles or empty hot dog cartons were thrown at them, Slash and Gardevoir both let out a sigh of relief. Maybe they'd been a bit too paranoid about the public's ever-present eyes. Gardevoir returned his ghost-kiss and walked into the arena, the mud of the previous battle rising up to her ankles.

Gardevoir and Slash then turned to Watson, whose hands were not near his belt. "Slash."

"Yeah, old man?"

"You assumed Manectric to be my Kaishakunin before this battle, didn't you?"

No reason to lie now. "Yeah, I did."

"Well, you saw that you were wrong. However...I do have a Kaishakunin, one that is always with me. It was with me when we talked at my home. It was with me when I fought Maxie, although I did not need to use it. And it is with me now."

Slash's brow furrowed in confusion. "What in the hells are you talking about, old man?"

"You shall now see my most powerful Pokemon, one that I captured over thirty years ago in an epic battle. We have fought together for long years, but I have never used it in a Gym fight. Consider yourself honored...but do not consider yourself lucky. You have no hope of defeating this Pokemon with your Gardevoir."

The dark-haired trainer narrowed his eyes. "Enough talk. Bring it out, and let's have at it."

"Very well. Now, Rotom, show this young trainer the power of thunder, the power of Mauville, the power of the thunder gods!"

The trainer shields went back up, although Slash could see no Pokemon within the combat zone except for a confused, on-alert Gardevoir. She focused her power, easily whipping up a powerful flurry of psychic energy around her body that glowed like a brilliant sky-blue aurora.

Slash felt part of himself---the dominant part---seem to cheer with happiness. He had a powerful mate, one that would bear him powerful children someday.

He winced suddenly, clamping down on the thought. It seemed that there were a few crossed wires in his newly-acquired instincts, and the sparks that they produced were quite painful. Forcing himself to bite back the sorrow that was welling up in his heart, he turned to the battlefield just in time to see a rain of blindingly-bright thunderbolts fall from the viewscreen hanging high over the combat zone.

Gardevoir saw the danger and reacted quickly. using a combination of quick teleports and flare-shields to evade and block the bolts. Still, it had been close, and she found herself trembling in spite of her resolve. That lightning had been strong. The mud that had been hit by the evaded bolts was blackened and smoldering. A single jolt might have stunned her, and a few more would have likely done her in.

Where is it? What is Watson's Pokemon?

She turned to Slash, who was shaking his head. He didn't seem to know, either. A Rotom? She had never heard of such a Pokemon, and apparently her master never had either. Whatever it was, it seemed capable of extremely potent attacks. She extended her senses out, trying to find her opponent, but all she got was static. Static from above, static from the sides. What was wrong with her senses?

She briefly considered that her foe might be a Dark-type Pokemon, but quickly disregarded the idea. Dark-types were not well-loved in Hoenn, and were rarely used. It was unlikely that Watson would risk utilizing one (although it could possibly explain why he'd never used it in battle before).

But no, it couldn't be. If it was a Dark Pokemon, she wouldn't be able to sense it at all. Static meant that it was likely something with a degree of sensory awareness, like another Psychic Pokemon or a Ghost.

...wait.

A Ghost?

"Gardevoir, look out!"

She turned to see another volley of that deadly lightning coming at her, this time from one of the retaining walls. This time, however, she noticed something different; while the lightning from above seemed to come directly out of the viewscreen, this volley was being thrown: she could see some faint, incorporeal presence just barely edging out of the walls, generating the blasts. Yes, it was a Ghost, and it was capable of passing through solid objects.

Evading the blasts with another series of teleports and shields, she wondered if she could possibly beat such a creature. What if it simply hid in the walls, emerging only long enough to attack? Could she hit it at all like that, and even if she could, would she be strong enough to do any real damage?

Again Gardevoir turned to her trainer, hoping he'd analyzed the situation by now, but he was shaking his head.

"No, I don't have any idea what it is. But don't look at me, pay attention to the arena! That lightning could come from anywhere!"

I know, but what am I supposed to---

Another roar of crackling electricity, and this time the bolts came from the viewscreen above and the wall at the same time. She almost froze in panic at the sight of so many blasts headed her way (and she would certainly have been defeated if she had), but her will to fight quickly overruled it. Flinging out bolts of psychic energy, she deflected as much as she could from the side and tried to dodge the rain-like assault above her, but this time she was not entirely successful; several of the ragged bolts singed her body, sending agonizing jolts of electricity through her, and one struck the flowing skirt of her dress, burning a small hole straight through the thin fabric.

The barrage ended, and she stood alone in the center of the mud-covered battlefield, feeling horribly vulnerable. It wasn't so much the fact that her opponent (which had not even shown its face) was very powerful...it was the terrible, claustrophobic feeling of being played with.

Of being hunted.

She felt like her enemy was toying with her, like a Persian toys with a Rattata before making the kill. She felt like she was a wounded Wailmer being circled by blood-thirsty Sharpedo.

But most of all, she felt like a young and defenseless Ralts, alone in the grasslands, unable to sense her hunters and being unable to fight them even if she knew their location.

And while her trainer/friend/mate's presence was comforting, he could not help her, not in this. It was her duty to handle this, and she would not fail.

Come on out, if you dare! Come face me!

No response, and then another flurry of thunder came from the viewscreen and the opposite wall; she barely had time to turn around to register the attack. Knowing that she couldn't block them all, she quickly teleported to the rafters of the arena, standing atop the viewscreen, watching the bolts criss-cross and collide far below. This was bad. Very bad.

Suddenly an alarm bell went off in her head---GET OFF OF THE LIGHTBOX, GET OFF OF THE LIGHTBOX---and she teleported back down to the floor just as a ball of electricity roared out from the viewscreen's wiring, flying through the space she'd occupied only a moment before.

Gardevoir growled in frustration. The up-to-the-top teleport had worked that time, but now this Rotom thing would be ready for her if she tried it again. She needed to stop the multi-directional barrages, but how?

She looked down at the ankle-deep mud beneath her, briefly considering rolling around in it like Corphish had. She didn't care how dirty she had to get to win this match, after all. But the mud had started to dry now, and would quickly fall off her body in clumps if she tried it. Darn.

But maybe the mud could still be useful. She realized that, while the lightning had come from the viewscreen (which Rotom could apparently manipulate from afar) and from the walls, it had not come from the mud-covered floor. It was just a guess, but she thought that the Ghost couldn't fire its lightning if it contacted the stuff (although it could possibly phase through it and attack her then). In any case, if it stopped the surprise attacks---

She measured the mud. Several inches deep. She hoped it would be enough. It had to be.

Focusing her power, she scooped up the top layer of the now-crumbling mud and slapped it against the two retaining walls, coating them both completely. She set up low-power psychic shields to hold the mess in place, and then relaxed. She was pleased to find that the mental static she sensed was picking up an angry note, as though the entity was displeased at her action.

Looks like you can't fire off your lightning through the mud, huh?, she taunted, keeping an eye on the viewscreen above her. Come on out now, have you the courage! I am ready to fight you directly!

There was another burst of lightning from the viewscreen, but it seemed to be half-hearted compared to the others. She easily evaded the volley, blocking the bolts with graceful flares of shielding, and stood in the middle of the Gym, smiling as the sense of being hunted faded. While she had not won yet, not by a long shot, she had at least increased her chances.

Well? Are you just going to shoot off lightning all day? I can blocked it from one direction just as easily as you can shoot it. Come on out and fight me!

She didn't expect a reply, but one came. It was in a mental voice, not quite psychic in nature, and it had the tone of a mischievous child; playful, easily amused. But it was obviously not happy right now, and currently sounded like a child who had stayed up far past its bedtime.

FINE THEN, I SHALL. ALTHOUGH I THINK YOU'LL END UP WISHING YOU HAD CALLED OFF ONCE I DO.

Rotom emerged from one of the walls, easily passing through the low-strength shield she set up, although the mud seemed to give it some difficulty. Once it was through, it phase-shifted, and all the dirt on it fell to the floor. Apparently she'd been right about it being unable to fire when exposed to the mud.

Gardevoir looked on her opponent with a bit of surprise; it certainly did not look as intimidating as its attacks would lead one to believe. It was quite small, about the size of Corphish, and looked almost...goofy. The creature seemed to be a small red globule (with a childish, grinning face that almost made her drop her guard) of matter encased in a larger field of blue electricity and plasma that formed small 'arms'. It hovered several feet over the ground, crackling with power and smiling at her.

YOUR MUD-SLINGING WAS QUITE CLEVER, ALTHOUGH YOU MAY FIND IT INADEQUATE SHORTLY. BE CAREFUL, LITTLE GARDEVOIR, FOR I CAN END THIS BATTLE WITH A SINGLE SWIPE OF MY HANDS.

Put up or shut up, silly creature. You may find it harder to fight now that I can finally hit you.

Rotom merely smiled wider, a bit of its childish anger gone now, and suddenly there was another rain of electricity from above, coupled with a fresh volley from Rotom itself. The bolts coming from the small Pokemon seemed to be much stronger than the ones from the viewscreen, and Gardevoir instinctively knew that her flare-shields would not be adequate against the higher-power versions.

THE MUD! Psymakio, use the mud!

Without even consciously recognizing her mate's voice, she obeyed, using brief waves of telekinesis to fling small blobs of mud into the air in front of her to intercept the attack. The sizzling bolts of electricity were stopped by the damp earth, although the balls of mud were completely vaporized in the process. She immediately focused upwards, stopping each of the falling blasts with flare-shields.

Successful, she turned to Rotom with a pretty, maddeningly-sweet smile.

What was it you said about ending this battle? Maybe you can and maybe you can't, but you'll have to try harder to beat me, creature.

Rotom growled, good humor fading, and renewed its double-directional attack.

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

Slash watched the battle with amazement. Watson's Kaishakunin was amazing, yes, but Gardevoir was absolutely stunning! He knew that she was powerful, but he failed to grasp how strong she had become until he saw her in action.

She seemed to dance across the battlefield, teleporting and shielding and blocking with lightning-fast reflexes. He was relieved to see that the mud did work, and by using balls of the stuff with her powers, she was able to hold off Rotom's non-stop barrage of electricity.

Suddenly Gardevoir had an opening in the crossfire, and flung a powerful blast of psychic energy at the small Ghost. It just barely evaded the attack, but was forced to pause its own rampage to do so. Gardevoir quickly moved in, this time using the mud-balls to block the lightning from above, and released a point-blank Psywave at Rotom, driving the Pokemon back into the walls with a triumphant cry.

"Yeah! Get that fucker on the run, Gardevoir!" he cheered, waving at his gorgeous mate. Even with a hailstorm of thunder raging from the ceiling, she found time to return his cry with a beaming smile, looking like an angel of war.

As she returned to the battle, Slash found himself getting an odd mental image of her psychic signature through their bond...a picture of a hauntingly beautiful warrior of silver and moonlight, standing by the side of a dark-haired knight who held a pair of some strange, small devices in each hand. The picture felt both familiar and sad, somehow, as though the two were going off to separate wars and knew that they would never see each other again.

(What in the hell?)

And then it was gone.

Slash shook off the creeping sensation, and turned back to the battle.

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

Gardevoir jumped back as Rotom emerged from the mud-coated walls again, bracing herself for another assault. This time Rotom was barely able to travel through the mud at all, and she suspected it had something to do with it drying; less water meant less conductivity. It was even possible that Rotom could be trapped in the walls if it went in them again.

Had enough?

YOU WILL NOT DEFEAT ME, LITTLE GIRL! I AM THE SPIRIT OF WILD THUNDER, LET LOOSE INTO THE WORLD BY THE WINGS OF THE THUNDER GOD! I AM THE GHOST OF THE THUNDER GODS THAT CAME BEFORE HIM, AND I---

You're getting on my nerves, that's what you're doing!

Gardevoir channeled her spiraling psychic energy, firing off a rapid-fire blast of energy that Rotom only partially avoided. She was blocking the ever-falling lightning from above on autopilot now, her mind unconsciously sending perfectly-timed balls of mud to protect her from the deadly blasts. Her fear was gone now, as was her nervousness. Now there was only the battle, only victory, only the need to make her trainer happy, to make her mate proud of her exploits and hold her tight, cuddle with her, cover her body with touches and caresses while telling her how pleased he was...

(not the time), she thought to herself, preparing another strike.

Suddenly Rotom lunged at her, one of its silly stick-like plasma arms growing into a huge and wicked phantom claw. He slashed at her, but she managed to evade it with a quick teleport. She turned to find Rotom grinning again.

THE NEXT ONE WILL NOT MISS, LITTLE GARDEVOIR.

Gardevoir growled, tired of this Pokemon's constant derision. She was not sure what Rotom was---it could even possibly be a legendary Pokemon as it claimed---but she was not 'little', even if she was very young to be a Gardevoir. She let loose a flurry of attacks, sending Rotom backing up to the wall. The Ghost hit the mud layer and stopped, suddenly realizing that the wall was no longer wet enough for him to phase through, and panicked. It was battered by Psywaves and Psychics, its plasma-armor flickering, and then lunged up into the sky, covering its ascent with a terrible downpour of thunder. Rotom reached the viewscreen and went into it---not phasing through it, as it had done through the walls, but going into it, into the electricity and circuitry.

Gardevoir grinned; if it was up there, inside that thing, what would happen if she were to destroy it?

She focused her energy into a single high-power Psychic attack, and then flung it upwards. It rocketed through the air, buffeting the lightning bolts in its wake, and struck the viewscreen, blasting the huge box that housed the equipment. The screen shattered from the blast, and the construct dropped a bit...hung by a snarl of wires...and then snapped, plummeting to the arena below.

The crowd screamed in surprise as the massive machine slammed onto the floor in a huge, smoldering heap of metal and glass, crashing only a few feet from Gardevoir.

She scanned the wreckage, checking for any sign of Rotom, and found that the mental static had greatly faded. Then...did that mean...?

She turned to Slash with a bright, sunny smile. Master! I think I---

Suddenly Slash's eyes darted to a spot behind her, and his eyebrows shot up. "Gardevoir, look out!"

And then there was darkness.

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

Watson sighed. She had done so well, and despite his pride and fiercely competitive spirit, he still felt lousy when he told Rotom (over a bond that, while very dissimilar to the one Slash and Gardevoir shared, was still quite effective) to make the finishing blow.

She had Rotom on the run, and if she had known her mistake, it was possible she really would have won the match. Hell, if he was to be honest with himself, it was likely that she would have.

But alas, she had not. He wasn't surprised; many seasoned trainers would have made the same error. That mud-trick had been amazing, say true, but it had one major drawback: the mud, once used to block the electricity, was vaporized. Which meant that unlike Lanturn's Hydro Pump (which merely moistened and spread out the mud) and Gardevoir's mental mud-walls (which used shields to hold a layer up), the mud used was being effectively destroyed.

So while Gardevoir was offhandedly protecting herself from the electric barrage, she had failed to release that the floor beneath her was becoming less and less covered with the stuff.

When Rotom disappeared into the viewscreen monitor, she had assumed it was trapped in there. Another forgivable mistake: Rotom was not a widely-known Pokemon (in fact only a very few people knew of its existence), and the capabilities of the legendary creature were likewise a mystery to most. His Pokemon had actually escaped the monitor almost immediately, traveling through the Gym's wiring until it had gotten into the floor through various power conduits. Rotom had then come up through the floor and delivered a single, unstoppable swipe from its Shadow Claw.

While Gardevoir was amazingly powerful for her age, she not strong enough to withstand the blow; Rotom had, in the past, taken down Pokemon many times her current power with ease, and so a single Ghost-enhanced attack was all it took.

Watson watched the scene unfold in front of him with slight guilt, feeling little of his usual post-battle euphoria. Gardevoir was not critically hurt, but she was still injured rather badly. Seeing Slash run over to her side the second the trainer shields were down, cradling her injured body in his arms (the boy was nearly in tears, and he could only hope that he did not do something unwise in his distress, like kiss her or something)...it made him feel pretty crummy.

Rotom floated over to him, a somewhat worried expression on its face.

DID I GO OVERBOARD, WATSON? I TRIED TO HOLD BACK MY ATTACK, BUT, AS YOU SAW, SHE WAS FEARSOMELY POWERFUL.

"It's alright. You did fine. Good job, Rotom."

YOU DO NOT SEEM PLEASED, WATSON.

The old man sighed. "I'm glad that we won, but...when I saw the girl fight like that, and as I see the boy now...well, it's hard to be happy."

SHE WILL BE FINE, THOUGH. I DID NO PERMANENT DAMAGE.

"Still."

Rotom looked over Slash carrying the unconscious Gardevoir over to the medical stand on the far side of the arena, a bit confused by what Watson meant. The concept of love flew over its head; Rotom was the only one of its kind, one of the sparks of the gods, and thus had no desire to mate or love or cherish...but while it did not understand romance or desire, it did understand how a trainer feels for their Pokemon. And, in its own way, Rotom was a little sobered, too.

Both trainers were totally oblivious to Rictor's pronouncements of who won and who lost, not hearing the cheers and applause of the audience. But that was okay. Right now, it did not really matter.

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

(ouch. My head hurts. My skin feels numb. What happened?)

Gardevoir tried to open her eyes, only succeeding with great difficulty. She recognized the location: the emergency first-aid room of the Gym, the place where she and Slash had shared their first kiss. She saw three humans in strange blue garb standing over her...a Blissey in the corner...and Slash standing next to her, holding her hand. His beautiful blue eyes flashed as he saw that she was awake.

Master? What happened?

Slash didn't answer her out loud; dipping into their bond, she knew that he was sure that he would cry if he tried, and he did not want these strangers to see that, especially after the big battle. While she knew that the doctors would not think ill of him for doing so (she could even sense that they expected it and would likely comfort him), she did not tell him so; she wanted to hear his honeyed voice in her mind.

The battle's over. You were...pretty badly hurt.

How did I do?

He smiled, leaning down and giving her a small, sweet embrace. That much, at least, could be done in this situation. When he pulled back, she was tempted to grab him and push him down again, so that she could sleep next to her mate. Luckily (or unluckily), she was too tired to do so.

You did good.

She faintly shook her head, and he looked at her in confusion.

I did well, master.

She smiled at him, and a moment later he was looking back at her with the grin of someone who does not want to smile, but is unable to help themselves.

Fine. You did well, silly.

Can we go home now? So easy to think of Watson's place as 'home' for her. She knew that he wouldn't mind her feeling that way, either.

Slash's smile faded. Not just yet. The doctors have a lot of work to do, although they told me that you should be fine by morning. So go back to sleep and let them do their work.

You'll come back early in the morning for me, right?

I'll be sleeping here. I will be right here with you all night, so if you wake up early, I'll be here for you. I promise. You should heal better with me here...and I could never bear to leave you anyway.

Her heart hurting and swelling at the tone of his 'voice', she looked away, not wanting him to see her crying a little, knowing that he would know from the bond alone. She saw Corphish and Electrike sleeping on another set-up table in the room, both pretty badly beat up.

Are they okay?

They're fine. They're not really that injured since I withdrew them before they got thrashed. Slash looked at her with a guilty expression. Maybe I should have let them keep fighting. They could have worn down Rotom, maybe, and then you could have beaten it...

Gardevoir could feel her consciousness starting to fade, but she refused to black out again with her mate feeling like this. Master, you did the right thing. Those two would not have stood a chance; it would have taken Electrike down in one blow and then fried Corphish in an instant. Don't...don't worry about it.

She lay back again, feeling her head start to ache again. Slash leaned forward and kissed her forehead, ignorant of the doctors in the room. Only one noticed the action, and she considered it sweet; never did the idea of lurid, disgusting sexual relations between the two ever cross her mind.

Alright. I won't. Now go to sleep, angel. I'll be here for you.

As sleep took her, she smiled up at him, the pain fading as her mate took it into himself. I know, my love. Thank you.

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

Later that night, when Gardevoir was stabilized and the doctors had gone home, Watson came to the office.

He walked into the dark room and saw Slash sitting by Gardevoir's bed, holding her hand and watching the rise and fall of her body as she breathed. The boy hadn't noticed him yet, and probably wouldn't unless he said something.

Watson smiled painfully. While the sight was beautiful and touching, it also brought back a terrible memory: sitting by his wife's bedside in her last hours, having to tell the barely-coherent woman that not only had they lost their child, but also that she was losing her life. She hadn't responded to that information, not out loud, but she'd given him a terrible look, one that said that's okay, I will gladly die if my child is stillborn because I can't bear the pain of living without him. I am sorry that you will be left alone, I really am, but there is nothing I can do. The heartache is just too great.

And then she'd fallen unconscious again. Two hours later, she had died.

Slash looked up from Gardevoir's bedside; while he had not seen or heard the old man, he had sensed his sorrowful thoughts, something which he could not have done before. Right now, the hows and whys of it did not occur to him. They did not matter.

"Are you okay, Watson?"

The old man looked at the boy for a long moment, then nodded. "I'm alright. I was just...brooding." He glanced at Gardevoir's still, sleeping form. "How about her?"

"She's fine. Just sleeping now."

"And you?"

Slash turned back to his mate, resting his face in his hands. "Fine enough."

Watson pulled up a chair and sat next to the boy. His own Pokemon were already healed and sleeping; despite being beaten, they were older and tougher than Slash's team, and had been through worse before. They would recover easily.

"You should get some sleep."

"I will. I just want to look at her for a while."

Silence.

"Are you mad at me, boy?"

Slash turned to him in surprise. "No. Why would I be?"

"It's my fault she's hurt and laying there. I guided my Pokemon's actions the whole time."

The boy sighed, and shook his head. "No, it's not your fault. Not Rotom's either. I'd like to say it's my fault, because at least then I would have someone to blame, but...it's not mine, either. There's no one to blame. I'm just sad because it hurts to see her like this."

Watson nodded his head in understanding. "I know. But here's something to think about. You and your team, her included, learned a lot today. You went up against a Gym Leader, one of the legendary masters, and you went the distance. And while you lost due to the mistakes you made, I can safely say that you will never make those mistakes again. You are more powerful from the experience, and will stand a better chance when you come up against your enemies, whether it be a group of thugs on the roadside, Team Aqua, or that monster you're on the prod for."

"Yeah. You're right. Doesn't make it any easier to see her like this, though."

"I know."

Silence. Then, an embarrassed confession from Slash. "I saw what you were thinking about at the door."

"You did?"

"Yeah." Slash looked away, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. Sorry that you had to go through that, and sorry that I'm acting like this. My situation is much less serious than yours was. I have no right to mope like this."

Watson clapped the boy on the shoulder. "You have nothing to apologize for. I thank you for your condolences, but there is nothing wrong with you feeling this way toward her now. It's love, my boy...it always hurts when they're in a hospital bed, no matter what the reason. What you're feeling is no less valid."

Silence.

"You're leaving tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Once she's up and about, we'll stock up on supplies and head south. We'll hitch a ride back to Petalburg and see if Briney still has the piece of the artifact."

The old man considered him. "Maybe you should consider heading north instead. I heard a report earlier today that something disturbing is happening in the northern volcanic wastes. Apparently some sort of monster appeared in Fallarbor Town today and is terrorizing the locals. No one is completely sure what it's after, but a brief prog from a Psychic Pokemon got a snippet of its thoughts, and it seems to be after some sort of small, round relic."

Slash's eyes widened. "It could be the Pearl. But it could just as likely be something else. And we still need to investigate the piece of the artifact."

"I'll tell you what. I'll go and see Briney and ask him about it. I haven't seen the old codger in years, anyway, and he'd be more likely to give it to me than you, a relative stranger. You trek north and see what's going on up there."

Slash considered this. The only reason he had planned to seek out Briney was because he had no other leads to go on. But the disturbance in the north...if that was the Pearl, he needed to get there and obtain it before Kiako did, or else...well, without the artifact there would be no way of knowing 'what else', but it would not likely be good.

"Alright. We'll do that. Do you know anything about the monster causing all the trouble up there?"

"No. The reports are conflicting, confusing. Some say that no one's been hurt, some say that half the town is in flames, some say that everyone there has been killed. There is no way to know. You must be careful if you go there."

"We'll watch out for ourselves. Hopefully our luck will be better than it was today."

Watson smiled and pat Slash's shoulder again. "You were pretty lucky today. I think you'll do just fine."

The old man got up and walked out of the room, leaving Slash alone with his Pokemon and his mate. A half hour later, Slash stood up, kissed Gardevoir softly on the cheek, and climbed into the cot in the corner of the office.

And as he slept, the voice returned to him.
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Sinners: Arc 2