=Author’s Note=
Greetings, all!  Your friendly netsurfing wraith here, with the last installment of the Hidden Machine Saga!  Now don’t you worry, that doesn’t mean that BadgeQuest is ending…lord no!  We’re just getting started!  So strap in, grab some popcorn and a smoothie, and get ready for the BadgeQuest universe to turn on its ear.

=Legal Disclaimer=
Think of something clever yourself already!  You know the drill.


BadgeQuest: The America Chronicles #6
The HM Saga: 05

She sat atop the very fabric of reality, allowing its pulse of life force to ebb and flow through her.  The eternal cycle of life passed beneath her as it had done for the past two millennia.  With nearly limitless power at her fingertips in the ethereal plane, even she could only sit and watch the strands of creation flow as a river of eternity.   Earth was her charge, and she, its centurion.

Her fingers rested gently upon the fabric as she floated serenely, cross-legged and omnipotent.  In recent times, she had become interested in a particular strand in the tapestry.  To single out a solitary string in such a large picture would have been considered ridiculous to others of her kind, but beings such as her were few and far between now.   Even if they were there to scoff her, her ears would never register their taunts.  She had a...’personal’ interest in the strand, more so than all but a handful of beings in existence knew of.

The strand twisted and turned as it flowed with the rest of reality, much as any other strand would.  For years now, the strand had run with several other strands, rarely straying far from them.  Other strands would come and go, sometimes returning again.   Sometimes the strands danced together, swimming beautifully in harmony.  At other times, the tapestry grew dark and foreboding, and the strands would weep and struggle.  Very recently, several new strands danced in and out among her favorite, and the harmony became dampened, and the colors darker and more dour.  

But now, something strange was happening.  Strands were coming together...too many other strands, many more than she had ever seen converge on her favorite one.  She allowed her finger to stray further along the strand’s path, glimpsing into the future of the tapestry.   The centurion rarely looked ahead, content to remain in the here and the now, but she sensed something in the coming time.

More and more strands came in, several of which she recognized as having intertwined with her favorite strand before.  Others had never before come this close, but were now twisting and turning, drawing closer and closer as time moved on.  

Then she gasped.

There was a knot.

It was unlike anything she had ever seen...a collection of threads among her own that crashed together and became one for a single, terrible instant in time.  One of the threads in the tapestry, a string of pure cold black, made her shiver at an unseen chill.   Forcing away the familiar sense of dread, she traced the thread further with the tip of her ivory finger.

Her dread instantly turned to remorse.  Hands trembling, she removed her finger from the tapestry of life, allowing creation to flow beneath her as she paused.  A single tear escaped her eyes of brilliant jade, trailing down her sculpted cheek as she cried for her strand.   The coming convergence in the strings of creation was the largest disturbance in the tapestry she had seen in over two millennia, but that was not the cause of her tears.  Several of the strands ended at the knot, one of which she knew very well.

But not nearly as well as her strand did...
* * *

The irony occurred to Spike right in the middle of the meeting.  There they were, standing in a darkened room, surrounded by ancient beings in pressed suits far more expensive than anything he or his partner would ever own, and Spike was struck with an uncharacteristic moment of epiphany.  

"Gentlemen.  Thank you for arriving so promptly."

The secret Americorp meeting room was designed specifically to make those surrounded by the board members as uncomfortable as possible.  So, when the executive board had called Spike and Shades in, they had designated this, their favored room, for the counsel.   There were only a few lights present in the room, most of which shone directly on the pair standing in the middle.  A single desk sat at the back of the room, running most of the wall’s length in order to accommodate the five shadowy figures behind it.   Beyond them were a dozen monitors set into the back wall, featuring the silhouetted remainder of the executive board on live telecast.

-And that was when Spike realized that he loved Shades.

Not in the biblical sense, of course.  He still enjoyed a comely wench every now and then, whenever their budget could afford it(though they rarely appreciated the label "comely wench").  But standing here, facing down a crotchety bunch of geezers who held their fate in wrinkled, greedy hands, he realized that Shades was the only one in the world he could really count on.

The center silhouette looked down at a clipboard sitting in front of him, identical to the one that each of them had been given.  "You were hired to track down Professor Mason’s secret project, a new series of Technique Machines, and deliver them to us before he could go public with them."

Shades had been there for him for the past five years, which was more than he could say of anyone else.  He hadn’t spoken to his family in nearly a decade, and most of his friends were gone, dead, or had already betrayed him.  Shades had been there, watching his back, day in and day out.

"And what has your progress been so far?"  He glanced downward again, and both of the mercenaries knew better than to speak.  "You killed Professor Mason, sent his only living relative on the lamb, failed to obtain the prototypes, and required extraction from the local authorities in Maine."

Of course, he could never tell Shades a single word of this.  He wasn’t certain if his partner even felt remotely the same.  Besides, men didn’t talk about their feelings.  Men slapped each other on the back.  Men got drunk together.   Men watched sports and scratched obscenely in public.  But sharing?  Never.

"Do you have an explanation?"

Shades stepped forward.  Shades always did the talking for the two of them.  That was another thing about him that Spike loved.  Words always failed Spike, especially when it was far easier to draw a gun and start firing.  

       "We’ve run into some difficulties." Shades offered neutrally.

Another of the board’s members spoke up.  "You are referring to the children.".

A third picked up the line of questioning, the timing so perfect that Spike couldn’t help but wonder if they all shared the same brain.  "You mean to tell us that two of the world’s most expensive mercenaries have been waylaid by a group of children?"   Shades remained quiet at this, until further prompted.  "Well?"

"We were hired to obtain prototype chips.  No one mentioned killing children or running into interference with Team Rocket."

"Well," the center board member spoke up once more, "It seems as though there is only one chip left.  Ms. Mason and her cohorts have the other four.  Our intelligence has pinpointed their location at Snowfort, Alaska.  We can only assume that they have located the final prototype there."

"It seems that this contest is drawing to a close with a most uneven score, gentlemen.  However, we are willing to offer quite the reward."

"If you obtain all five chips within the next forty-eight hours," one of the video monitors cut in, displaying quite the monetary sum in text at the bottom of their screen, "We are willing to overlook your previous mistakes and pay your fee in full."

"Your fee will be doubled," the chairman added, "If you are able to eliminate the only remaining witnesses in this debacle."

"The children." Shades’ eyes narrowed behind his signature sunglasses.  The board’s silence provided all the answer he needed.  "I understand."

"And your partner?"

Shades elbowed Spike, shaking him from his rare moment of introspection.  He returned to the real world with a confused look on his face which was erased only by Shades’ whispered growl.  "Huh?  Oh, yeah.  Wax the snots, get the chips.   I got it."


"I hope your partner understands the seriousness of the situation, Mr. Shades." The chairman warned his temporary employee.  "If Americorp does not obtain these prototypes, we will once again undoubtedly find ourselves beneath the omnipresent hand of Silph International.  

"We cannot afford that kind of competition."

"And so neither can you."

With that said, the members stood, taking their clipboards in hand.  One by one, the tele-linked members winked out of existence, becoming blackened, reflective screens.  Taking this to be the end of the meeting, Shades grabbed hold of Spike’s elbow and led him back the way they came into the long, cavernous corridor.  

      Shades’ dark skin was turning purple, an obvious sign that he was angry.  "What did you think you were doing, nodding off like that?"

"Sorry Shades," Spike yawned.  He truly was sorry, but meetings and talking weren’t exactly up his alley.  If something needed to be beaten or shot, then he was the man to call.  Otherwise there wasn’t much he could do.  "Dunno what happened."

"Well," Shades growled, "Keep your focus."  The purple in his cheeks faded.  Shades never did stay mad at him long.  "We’ve got a long couple of days ahead of us."

"Don’t worry." Spike cracked his knuckles, narrowing his eyes.  "We’ll be ready for those brats this time.  There isn’t anything on heaven or Earth that can save them this time."
* * *

Rolling waves of mist crossed the floor, shrouding the enormous room in a thick haze.  Everything and everyone that stood within the arena was shrouded in cool white mystery.  Thick icicles hung overhead, jagged and menacing, while the floor sported a thin sheen of black ice, all but invisible to the untrained eye and dangerously slick.   All in all, it was a very impressive setup, intimidating to any but the most experienced, battle-hardened trainers.

It may have impressed Ash as well, if he hadn’t been so blasted cold.  He stood in the center of the gym, shivering in the black Silph jacket that hung across his ever-broadening shoulders, inadequately protecting him from the oppressive subzero temperatures.   Still, the shiver he felt wasn’t from the cold, but rather the excitement that ran up his spine.  This was it.

This was the last one.

"So, young one!  You fancy yourself ready for the honor of possessing our badge?" a spooky voice echoed from the mists, shrouded in a haunting veil of secrecy.  Ash couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the theatrics, unaffected by the spooky atmosphere the gym leader was trying desperately to create.   For beginning trainers, sometimes half the battle was surviving the psychological onslaught brought down upon them by the badge masters.  Gym leaders were certainly a dramatic bunch if ever he met one.  Of course, he wouldn’t say that in front of Misty or Brock without a sturdy brick wall between them.   He brought his mind back from his absent friends, putting his head into the game as the unseen speaker continued.  "Well, here in the Gym of Snowfort, you will have to brave more than mere Pokémon."

"You don’t say." Ash muttered, looking down at his own Pokémon partner.  They shared a secret chuckle together, neither one daunted by the show being performed at the moment.

"You, young boy," the voice continued, having obviously not heard Ash’s snide commentary, "Will have to bear witness to the icy black fear that lurks within your very own heart."

Ash checked his watch, scowling.  This was taking way too long.  "Look," he called into the mist, "Could we maybe speed things up a bit?  I have some friends to meet for lunch, and they get cranky when they’re hungry."  Pikachu clutched at its own gurgling stomach, trying to stave its mighty hunger for the time being.   It wasn’t easy to ignore the pangs of emptiness in its stomach, and  for some inexplicable reason Pikachu had a huge craving for a snow cone.  It might have had something to do with the massive amounts of ice and cold that had surrounded them ever since landing in this Podunk town.

"Insolent whelp!" the voice boomed, echoing across the ominous field of ice.  The frosty stalactites shivered at the intensity of the voice, releasing tiny flakes of ice that fluttered down upon the boy and his Pika-pal.  "This is a special gym, unlike any other."

"Aren’t they all?" Ash muttered.

"Here in the Gym of Snowfort, only those Pokémon of the elements of Ice may battle here for the honor of the Tundrabadge!  Prepare yourself for frozen combat!"

"Terms of the battle?" Ash called out, pulling out his Pokédex.

"One-on-one." The voice answered ominously, "No items, no time limit.  First to fall and fail to return to combat will be the victor."  There was a bright flash from within the folds of the mist, a sure sign that a Pokémon had been released.   The wall of mist parted, allowing the ever-feminine form of a Jynx to fly through.  "Behold the potent combination of Psychic and Ice, the ultimate Pokémon for the ultimate trainer in the ultimate element, the Realm of Unyielding Winter!"

"Good God."  He looked back down at Pikachu, who was shivering terribly from the cold.  "We’ve got a serious talker here, don’t we?  Dexter," his voice brought the analytical device on-line in an instant, "Scan."

Dexter’s sensor packet began humming with activity as his personality subroutines came to the forefront.  "Great gobs of crap!" He proclaimed, "It’s cold in here!  It’s a good thing I don’t have nerves or a tactile sensation processor, or I’d be freezing right now!"   Ash’s Pokédex had recovered nicely from the damage done to it months before, with a one-hundred percent turnaround.  Of course, that meant a complete revival of his old self…

"Dex..."

"Right!" He beeped and buzzed, scanning the scowling Jynx that loomed before them.  The Pokémon was clearly a cut above the rest, with crackling blue energy escaping from its narrowed eyes.  "Oh-kay.  Taking into account its elemental output and muscular composition, I’d say its battle level is somewhere around level...fifty.   Maybe fifty-one, if we’re feeling generous today."

"We are." Ash smiled.  He clipped Dexter back to his belt, but left the device active.  In the past months, he had learned a lot from his machines...both of them.  "Gear?"

"Accessing Remote Transport System now, Ash." Gear responded right on cue.  An accident that occurred while activating Dexter’s automatic repair functions had inadvertently transferred his own artificial intelligence program into her, with surprising results.   She had taken the sudden leap to consciousness rather hard, finding it difficult to adapt to a set of algorithms designed for a different system.  Now, after months of work and digitized soul-searching, she had grown accustom, even joyful, at the ability to think for herself.   "The Oak Institute reports that the desired subject is currently in its Pokéball, and is awaiting transport.  Shall we...?"

"Let’s give Tauros a little break." Ash pressed the activation switch, more out of habit than anything else.  Gear was more than capable of handling the entire transfer herself.  "Activate the RTS, and let’s get our boy into the game."

The air about him began to crackle with unseen energy, sending a sharp tingling running through Ash’s leg.  One of the Pokéballs came aglow on his belt, engulfed in pure white light.  A second later, the sphere vanished into thin air, only to be replaced in an instant with the former’s twin.   Though the change was undetectable from the outside, the readings pouring out from Gear’s tiny screen caused Ash to smile.

"Transfer complete." Gear informed him as the static in the air subsided.  Reaching down carefully, Ash pulled the still-warm ball from his belt, rotating it in his palm to place the control button under his thumb.  "Ready to go, Ash."

"Thanks, Gear."  He depressed the button once, allowing the tiny sphere to expand in his hand until it was roughly the size of a softball.  "I’ll take it from here."  He cupped his free hand to his mouth, calling out to the hidden gym leader.   "You know, I’ll let you make this a two-on-one in case you want to even the odds a little bit."

"Arrogant child," the voice informed him in no uncertain terms, "I will crush you so utterly and completely that whatever remains of your ego will be unable to show its face within a hundred miles of our proud gym."

"Righty-oh." Ash nodded.  

He pushed the ball’s control down once more, holding it until he felt the release catch click beneath his thumb.  Then, drawing back as a pitcher would, he hurled the ball high into the air.  The Pokéball seemed to hang in mid-air for a split second before opening on an unseen hinge, disgorging an enormous mass of blazing energy into the arena.   The dazzling display of power danced in the air, reforming itself into its natural state of matter in less time than it takes to write about it.  Wings spread from the central mass, followed by a long, flowing tail that danced to a tune all of its own.   The blinding light faded slowly to soft tones of blue and white, the colors of the coldest of ice in the most frozen of Earth’s icy desert poles.  The containment sphere returned obediently to Ash’s hand as the energy finished taking the shape of-

"A-ar-articun-n-no..."

"Cyooooooooo!" Articuno shrieked, beating its massive wings to stay aloft.  It began to circle the battle floor, causing the mists below to swirl like water caught in a powerful tide.

"Wh...where...who...how..." the voice stuttered, clearly taken aback by the appearance of a living legend in their "humble" little gym.  "What is that?"

"Huh?" Ash tried to sound nonchalant, hiding his smile deep within his own self satisfaction.  "Oh, that’s my Articuno.  You doing all right, Articuno?" he called out to the Pokémon, who gave him an encouraging screech.  The voice was silent for several moments, contemplating the situation as its Jynx cowered in fear at the appearance of a Pokémon several times more powerful than it.   "I’m sorry, is something wrong?"

"I...You..." the voice was still flustered, but growing stronger by the moment.  Clearly the gym leader was trying desperately to regain some of its lost composure.  "I thought Articuno were just a myth.  I spent the better part of my youth searching for one!"

"Well, I’m still getting used to having a legendary bird on my team.  Of course, he’s not full grown yet." Ash conversed casually, "We...that is, my cognitive, analytical database and I, we think he’s still an adolescent.  He’s probably going to get a lot bigger, and a lot stronger.   So, are we going to battle, or not?"  Articuno screeched again, echoing Ash’s sentiment as it zeroed in on its opponent.

There was another long pause, then "Mr. Ketchum-It is Mr. Ketchum, isn’t it?  Mr. Ketchum," the voice broke in nervously, losing all of its reverberation and ominous darkness, "Under the circumstances-"
* * *

Ash made his way down the street, admiring his brand new snowflake-shaped badge.  Pikachu trotted next to his feet, calling up at him to try and get his attention, but as with all his other new badges, he was lost in his own world.  His Pokémon had steered him clear of fire hydrants and newspaper machines on several occasions, always watching out for Ash’s best interests even when Ash didn’t.

"And baby makes ninety-six." He crowed, pulling a small brown cloth sack from his backpack and tossing the badge in with the others.  The small bag fairly bulged with small angular shapes, stuffed to the brim with badges from all over the United States.   Now, with more than enough badges to enter the Star League’s DC Bowl, he would once again claim the title of League Master.  Granted, it was far from his old league, but those days were behind him now.

The thought suddenly struck him as odd.  For years as a child, he had wanted nothing more than to be the toughest competitor in all of Kanto, and that meant dominating the Indigo League.  Then, once he had accomplished that, he spent years defending that title, returning to Indigo Plateau each year to do battle with his toughest rivals.   Now, though, nearly a year since his defeat at the treacherous hands of Gary Oak, he hardly ever thought about it.  Right after the upset, of course, he would have traded his right arm for a rematch with the Oak boy, a fair battle this time.  Now, though, he understood what Misty had tried to tell him after the fight; that the whole ordeal was petty.   It was beneath him, and if he couldn’t see it, then he was beneath himself...whatever that meant.

"Pika!" Pikachu trilled, spying the very object of his thought ahead of them.  "Pi, pikachu!"

"Ash!"

Ash smiled at the sight of Misty Waterflower waving at him from down the frozen walkway.  Like him, she was huddled over in an inadequate coat, her breath escaping in long, foggy gasps.  Ever since their stopover in Bluster City, things between them had seemed kind of off, as if there was something standing between them.   He had tried to talk to her about it, but she had always circumvented the subject until he gave up.  When she wanted to talk about it, she would; if she was anything, Ash knew she was direct.

"What’s the good word, Misty?"

"Hopefully," she brushed aside a stray lock of hair from her eyes, giving him an odd smile, "The word is victory.  How’d the gym go?"

"Didn’t even get to battle." He put on a dour face, pretending to be lower than the dirt beneath the gum on someone’s shoe.  Then, when he noticed her inquisitive gaze, he couldn’t help but grin.  "When they saw Articuno, they just called the match right then and there."

She laughed, slapping him on the shoulder.  "You dork."  She kneeled down, scratching Pikachu in its favorite spot behind its ears.  "And as for you...I’ll bet you’re disappointed that you didn’t get a shot at them, too."  Pikachu cooed, leaning into Misty’s expert fingers.   "C’mon.  Brock and Dixie are waiting for us at a little café down the road, and I’m freezing my ponytail off here."  

The three of them walked on together in silence, quickening their pace in order to make it out of the cold before they caught their death of cold.  Though she seemed cheerful, Ash knew her well enough to pick up on several subtle hints as to her true mood.   She had done her hair up in a simple, easy clump jutting out the back of her skull, grouped so fast that she hadn’t even taken the time to separate the lock she always kept by her temple.  Her eyes tended to shift downward, a sure sign that something was bothering her as well.   There were a million others, some that Ash was aware of, and some he didn’t even know he saw, but it painted a fairly clear picture.  He made a mental note to ask her about it when he got a chance later.

They entered the tiny café, one Caribou Coffee.  It wasn’t hard at all to spot their other friends; one kept a wild, outrageous hairstyle that only he could pull off, an outgrowth of long spikes that hung at all kinds of weird angles, often defying the known laws of physics.   The other was easily recognizable, as he happened to be dating her.  Dixie flashed him a brilliant smile, and Brock waved them over as he took a sip of something that appeared to be a strange mixture of chocolate and coffee.

"Ash!" Dixie leapt from the booth, running over and nearly knocking Ash off of his feet with a turbo-hug that knocked the wind right out of him.  "How did it go?  Did you win?"  Her eyes probed his with waves of excitement.

Ash couldn’t help but smile whenever he was in her arms.  He reached over and brushed several strands of her golden hair out of her eyes, tucking them behind her ear.  "Hey," he grinned, sharing a brief glance with Pikachu, "It’s me."

"That’s great!" she hugged him again.  Dixie suddenly brightened, as if remembering something.  "Oh, that’s right!"  She looked back at Brock, who smiled and nodded, setting down his latte.  "We’ve got a surprise for you."

"You’ll never guess who we ran into on our way to meet you here, Ash." Brock brushed the ring of cream from his mouth.  Looking up expectantly at Ash, he said, "Well, go on.  Guess."

"But you said I’d never guess-" Ash started when a cold metal edge found its way to his neck.  He could feel the blade pressing against his flesh, digging into him but not quite piercing the skin.

"Stand to, Novice," he heard a ferocious growl from behind him, "And prepare to be defeated at the hands of your better."

Ash recognized the voice immediately.  With confident hands, he reached over to the side of his neck and pushed the blade away easily, finding that the wielder was not resisting him.  "Just what do you mean, Novice?"  He turned around, and just as he had expected, there stood a young man his own age, dressed in a full suit of armor in the style of the ancient warriors of Japan.   "Samurai!"

"Ash, my friend!" the two of them swapped handshakes and laughing smiles.  Samurai sheathed his sword with one clean stroke, which sang the familiar piercing wail of metal on metal.  Most of the coffee-goers in Caribou gave the lad an odd glance, but said nothing.   It wasn’t often that someone walked around in full armor.  "How goes your quest?" the armor-laden lad inquired.

"Well," Ash nodded, motioning for them all to sit back down, "I’m a badge closer today."  He pulled out Dexter, double-checking that the device had registered his new badge on its database.  "Dex, how many do I have to go?"

"One hundred and fifty-eight." The machine informed him.  Dexter offered him a map of the world, with nearly three hundred different markers on the map.  Most of the ones around the Islands were blue, as well as the last of the markers in the United States.   Unfortunately, that still left Europe and most of Asia untouched, as well as the handful of gyms in Africa and South America.  All in all, he was still less than half done, and new gyms were opening up every year.  Every now and then, that tiny, nagging voice of doubt would rear up and remind him that what he was doing was insane.   He really hated that voice, especially when he thought that it might be right.

Still, Samurai was clearly impressed.  "Well done, Ash." He clapped his friend on the shoulder, offering his congratulations.  "That is quite the accomplishment.  I have never heard of anyone possessing so many badges."

"Just takes perseverance, that’s all."

Misty whistled.  "Now I’m impressed."

"Why?" he raised his eyebrow.  "You didn’t think I could be humble?"

"No." she stole Brock’s latte and took a long drink.  "I didn’t think you even knew what ‘perseverance’ meant."  He tapped the cup as she took another drink, causing her to gag and choke briefly.

"So, Samurai," Ash turned back to the new arrival as Misty coughed up a wad of caffeinated brown goo, "What the heck are you doing so far from the island?  I mean, you’re one of the last people I ever expected to see in this neck of the woods."

Samurai’s bright disposition instantly faded as he became very quiet.  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, tugging at the edges of his armor.  "I apologize," he spoke softly, "In the joy of our reuniting, I nearly forgot my reason for coming here."

"What’s the matter?" Ash asked, still cheerful.  It was his turn to steal Brock’s latte, which he polished off much to the annoyance of Brock and Misty.  "You look like you’re coming to tell me I only have another few months to live."

"If only it were so." Samurai lamented.  That caught Ash’s full attention.  Even Pikachu, who had shanghaied a bottle of ketchup, now listened in as the warrior boy cleared his throat.  "I am here on official business for the Indigo League of Kanto." His tone had changed, becoming sharply formal and officious.   Reaching into his armor, he withdrew a small white envelope, sealed with the wax emblem of the Indigo League.  "It is my duty to inform you, Ashlan Ketchum, that you have been formally charged with violation of League regulations, and will be brought up on those charges."   He looked as though he were about to burst out into tears as he handed the letter to Ash.

Ash took the letter with shaking hands.  He slipped his finger into the opening and tore the envelope apart, tossing it aside and taking the documents inside in hand.  For several terse moments there was absolute silence as he read it.  His eyes clouded over with rage with each line he read, growing narrow and alive with fire.   "I don’t believe this." He said at last.  The words escaped his lips in barely a whisper, which was a surefire indicator that Ash was livid.  He scanned the documents again, skimming and re-reading the important parts.

"What’s going on?" Dixie asked, more confused than the rest.  "What on Earth did you do to make the league bring you up on formal charges."  She frowned, unable to even consider such a horrible concept.  "I don’t know how you people do it overseas, but here in the Star League, you have to screw up pretty bad for the League Council to bring you up on charges."

"It’s the same in Kanto," Brock explained.  "I think in this instance, we might be dealing with a hefty case of politics."  He glanced over at Ash with an inquiry.  "Let me guess whose signatures are at the bottom of that subpoena..."

The names came out in a half-snarl.  "Lorelei and Agatha."  He threw the papers down onto the booth’s table, slamming them down with the palm of his hands.  "They’ve got me on half a dozen charges."  He looked over to Samurai, filled with a mixture of wonder and rage.   "How did this happen?"

Samurai’s head hung low with shame.  "I cannot say for certain.  However," he added hesitantly, "I have heard rumors that you violated the Rule of Six several months ago without express written consent from either the Elite Four or the League Champion."

"Rule of Six?" Dixie asked, still more confused than ever.

"It’s little more than a written tradition." Ash explained, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  "Trainers are only allowed to carry and battle with up to six Pokémon at once."

"It stems from an ancient time when trainers could only care for six at a time." Brock added, hoping that a little historical perspective would take their minds off of the unfairness of the situation.  "Back before Pokéballs were created, it was hard to keep track of Pokémon, so the League instigated the rule that only six could be utilized on a journey at any given time."

"But that’s silly!" she insisted.  "Technology today makes it possible to carry any number of Pokémon at once.  Gyms nowadays have their own rules as to how many can be used in the battle, it isn’t regulated by the league at all!"

"It is on the Islands." Misty frowned.  She picked up the subpoena and began reading it for herself, slowly coming to understand the seriousness of the situation.  "Tradition dies hard in the world’s oldest league."

"When is the trial?" Ash muttered, keeping his eyes locked onto the tabletop.  Samurai had been right.  He would have rather heard that he was cursed with a terminal disease than the news that his friend had brought him.  Now, it seemed, the League had a barrel over him.   He silently cursed the Elite Four, as well as the day he had ever applied for a trainer’s license in their blasted league.

"It begins tomorrow."

"TOMORROW!" the other three cried.  Even Pikachu’s voice sang out in disbelief, chattering madly at Samurai.

"You move like the wind, my friend." Samurai apologized, "The trial date was set months ago, and it took me until now to catch up to you.  Now that I have contacted you, a League official will be sent in to mediate the situation."  He offered Ash an open-palm gesture.   "I am truly sorry, Ashlan.  When I was ordered to deliver the papers, I tried to refuse."  He looked down.  "The others convinced me that it would be best coming from an old friend."

"Others?"

Samurai nodded in affirmation.  "You still have friends in the League, Ash.  Myself.  AJ.  Duplica.  Young Michael.  Even Goodshow helped to convince me to come."  He stood, growing resolute in posture.  "And now that I am here, I will help in whatever way I can to dismiss this atrocity of justice."

Ash reached over, clasping his shoulder.  "Thank you, Samurai.  It means a lot to me."

Samurai nodded, collecting himself.  "I must go and make for preparations.  The town courthouse has been reserved for tomorrow, and the process will begin at ten o’clock sharply.  Please, if there is anything I can do-"

"We’ll let you know." Ash nodded, releasing him.  He knew that Samurai was an honorable warrior and a good friend, and the whole ordeal must have been tearing him up inside.  He wasn’t about to heap any more guilt or responsibility upon the man’s shoulders.   As he walked out the door, Ash called out, "I don’t suppose you know who the prosecution will be, do you?"

Samurai stopped.  "I think you already know who it will be." He said ominously before leaving.

"Of course." Ash muttered to no one in particular.  He looked over at his partner, who had ditched the ketchup bottle and was looking at him expectantly.  "Pikachu, let’s go.  We’ve got some more work to do."

They all stood, except for Dixie.  She lagged behind, angry at being left out of the loop.  "Wait a minute!  Hold on," she demanded as they pulled on their coats.  "Who is the prosecution going to be?  What’s got you so spooked."

Ash’s jaw clenched involuntarily.  Samurai’s attitude towards the subject meant that it could only be one person in the entire world.  He uttered the two words he thought could never possibly bring him any more aggravation than they had before, but had somehow topped themselves at that very moment.

"Gary Oak."
* * *

Ash sat cross-legged atop his motel bed, pouring over the words hovering in front of his nose as they scrolled by.  His Pokédex rested on the rumpled comforter, projecting legal text as a series of holographic screens.  Gear was nearby, using her wireless web in conjunction with the experimental zero-lag connection Oak had designed for her with the Pokédex to put everything they found in front of their user.   Ash’s head was spinning after hours of searching for something that would help his case, but it was going to be difficult to put together some kind of defense with just a few hours remaining before court.

Dixie sat in the room’s only chair, scribbling on a piece of paper.  It didn’t help Ash’s concentration that she looked unbelievably cute in her reading glasses, working diligently at the table on he knew not what.  A few times she had caught him staring at her.   Whenever that would happen, she would refrain from comment, merely smiling and pointing him back to his own case.  As the night turned into morning, she put her pencil down and made her way over to Ash, plopping down behind him on the bed.  He bounced up and down as the springs adjusted to her additional weight, keeping his bleary red eyes on the holographic information before him.  

Deciding to play it coy, she took her glasses off and placed them over his eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her chin right on his shoulder.  He surrendered to her advances, turning around and giving her a kiss, which she gladly accepted.   "You, sir," she informed him with a peck on the nose, "Look terrible."

"Why thank you." He replied solemnly, handing Dixie her reading glasses back.  "You look ravishing as well."

"You should get some sleep.  It’s going to be a rough day."  She turned her attention to Dexter’s floating information, scanning the text briefly.  "Anything good?"

"A precedence or two I can site," Ash nodded glumly, "But I might have to rely on my natural luck for most of this."  With a sigh, he clicked Dexter’s holoprojector off and leaned back into her waiting embrace.

"And we all know how often that works like a charm." Dexter added his two cents, stealing the words right out of Dixie’s mouth.

"It isn’t like the poor boy can do much else, Dex." Gear chastised him from across the room.  "I’m sure everything will be all right, honey."

‘Boy?  Honey?  She’s only a few months old, and already she sounds like my mother.’ Ash couldn’t help but think.  Out loud, though, he said, "So what have you been working on all night?"

"Actually," she tickled him lightly on the ribs until his whining protests ceased, "I was going to ask you if you were done.  Gear," she addressed the watch-like machine on the nightstand, "Would you mind helping me with an e-mail?"

"I’d be delighted to help, Dixie." Gear set into motion in an instant, activating her e-mail protocols.  "To whom shall I address the letter?"

"Yeah,"  It was Ash’s turn to tickle her this time, which he did mercilessly.  "Who are you writing to?  Are you telling me there’s another guy?  Is that it?"

"Stop!" she cried, slapping away his hands playfully.  After a moment and a few bruises later, he relented.  "It’s just to an old friend of mine.  A few years back, he and his family moved out to Pokémon Island.  We trade e-mails pretty regularly, but with everything that’s happened, it’s been a long time since I’ve talked to him.   As if it’s any business of yours!" she added wryly, clocking him over the head with his own pillow.

"Okay, okay!" he laughed, catching her arms and pulling her into a hug.  "I’ll leave you to it, then."

"Not without a goodnight kiss you won’t." she winked, catching the back of his head and pulling him in.  He didn’t offer much resistance...her lips, as always, were so welcoming, warm and inviting and-

Cold.

Death.

Pain.

Stars exploded behind Ash’s eyes as a deluge of horrid images and feelings washed over him.  He reeled back, crying out as his hands flew to his head.  The blackness that tore at his soul toppled him from the bed, landing him on the cold wooden floor.   Dixie looked on helplessly, repeating Ash’s name over and over again with more intensity each time.

"ASH!" she screamed, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him.  "Ash, what’s wrong?!"

That seemed to get through to him.  His cries trailed off, his tears ceased.  He opened a single eye, looking up at her with his head still cradled in his own hands.  "Wh...What..."

"Ash," she said again, helping him up.  Concern flooded her gaze as she cupped the edges of his face, searching his eyes for some sign of explanation.  "Ash, are you okay?  What happened to you?"

"I..." he tried to recall the feelings, and found himself shivering once more.  It was unlike anything he ever felt before, as if a wave of pure cold had washed over his soul.  The phrase "someone stepping on your grave" had never really been clear to him until just then.   Was it the Goddess?  Was she trying to tell him something?  "I don’t know..." he whispered, more to himself than to Dixie’s query.
* * *

"Ash, will you just stop playing with it?"

Ash tugged involuntarily at his tie, trying to quell the nervousness that clutched at him from the inside.  "I just don’t think it’s straight." He informed Misty tartly, shifting it from side to side.  The truth was, the tie was perfectly straight.   The only thing off-kilter at the moment was his nerves.

She sighed impatiently.  "Here," she insisted, grabbing him by the tie and dragging him over.  Despite his and Brock’s protests that she should wear a dress, as Dixie was, she had insisted on wearing a suit as well, renting it from the same place as he and Brock had gotten their black numbers.   Hers was a light aquamarine, with polished black heels.  Her response to their protests was a half-muttered comment about male chauvinists.  Of course, it didn’t help Ash’s case against her suit that he still wore his trusty League cap.  Even Pikachu was dressed up, wearing a tiny black tie to match the stripes on his back.

"Lemmie alone!" he whined as she fixed his tie for the thirtieth time.  She just glared at him, yanking the tie up tight and choking him.  Coughing, he returned her angry eyes with his own.  "Look, I’m a little nervous.  I’ve never been on trial before."

"Pikaaaa." Pikachu agreed.  The mouse didn’t like the prospect of facing a judge any more than Ash did.

Misty’s features softened just a bit.  "Okay.  I’m sorry."

Ash couldn’t help but blink.  Did she just apologize?  Misty Waterflower...was apologizing?  The words shocked him so much that he didn’t even notice the couple with a baby stroller walk right into his path.  He stumbled over, falling to the ground and nearly knocking the stroller over.

"Nice job, moron." Misty shot at him, helping him to his feet.  So much for apologies.  She turned to the young couple, bowing in respect.  "I’m terribly sorry for my thick-headed friend’s clumsiness."

"Oh, not at all." The woman tittered, waving Ash’s thoughtlessness off.  She and her husband were dressed from head to foot in black, not unlike Ash and Brock’s suits, or Dixie’s dress.  The woman’s head was wrapped in a large black and white bonnet, while the man wore a bowler.   Both of them would have been considered very stylish, had they lived eighty to ninety years ago.  The stroller’s baby was hidden beneath a pile of blankets, peeking out from beneath an adorable little hat with a tiny Meowth on it.

"It was an accident." The man affirmed.  Then he took a harder look at Ash, squinting right in his face.  "Wait a minute.  Are you...are you Ash Ketchum?" he inquired with awe.  "You are!  You are Ash!"  Looking down, he spied the other half of the famous duo.   "And it’s Pikachu!"  He dug into his pocket and drew out a pen and pad of paper.  "Would you possibly be willing to sign an autograph for us?"

"Uh..." Ash checked his watch.  Despite the troubles getting up and going that morning, they were still a few minutes ahead of schedule.  "Sure."  He turned to his companions, waving them along.  "You guys go ahead.  I’ll catch up in a second."

"We just love you, Mr. Ketchum." The man’s wife was positively aglow with excitement as Ash’s friends walked off.  "Even our son.  Sometimes we put the match on, and when we try and change the channel, he just throws a fit."

"That’s great." Ash assured them, trying to put some enthusiasm into the whole ordeal.  He took the pad and pen and began scribbling a quick hello.  "Who should I make it out to?"

"Oh," the two exchanged glances, and then the husband said, "Make it out to our son."

Ash leaned in, giving the tyke a big grin.  "And what’s the little champ’s name?" he asked the baby sweetly.

"Meowth." The muffled reply came from the bassinet.

"Is that with or without a double-Wait a minute!" Ash backpedaled, tossing the paper and pen aside.  He recognized that voice...that hideous, mangled Brooklyn accent that escaped the child’s stroller.  Sure enough, Meowth’s head poked out from under the blankets, leering at Ash arrogantly.   "YOU!"

"PIKA!"

"That’s right, twerp." James cackled, tossing aside his disguise and revealing the pristine white Team Rocket uniform underneath, complete with an emblazoned R split across the front of his jacket.  "Like the costumes?"

"We’ve been practicing."  Jessie pulled her own façade away with a flourish, grinning with confidence despite the cold draft coming up her miniskirt.  "No one can see through our disguise anymore."

Ash sneered, glad to find an opportunity to vent his impotent rage.  "Yeah?  Well, Pikachu and I are always practicing.  Pikachu?"  The mouse snarled, charging up its attack.  The tiny tie that it wore around its neck began to smoke and fray at the sheer amount of power coursing through its fibers.  

Ash suddenly felt something cold and hard jammed into his back.  The telltale click a moment later told him that it wasn’t anything he was going to like.  "Call him off." A quiet, calm voice ordered him from behind, speaking directly into his ear.

Pikachu did an about face, ready to direct its attack at the man threatening its trainer, but Ash held up his hands to ward off the maneuver.  "Just like he says, Pikachu." He couldn’t count on the man’s gun not to go off as he was being electrocuted.   "It’s okay.  Go and get help."

Pikachu took off like a bolt, just in time to avoid Meowth’s pounce from his place on the bassinet.  The cat face-planted right into the snowy street, cushioned only slightly by the disgusting brown slush.  Jessie and James began to give chase, but the man behind Ash waved them off.   "Let him go.  He won’t bring help in time."

"So," Ash growled at the trio as they stood haughtily before him.  "You just wanted an autograph, huh?"  All he got was a glare and two faces pulled at him.

"No," the voice answered him.  "I did.  Turn around.  Slow."  Ash did as he was told, rotating in place with shuffling steps.  Whatever Ash was expecting his attacker to be, the man certainly wasn’t it.  He was tall and pale, with tussled brown hair parted neatly to one side.   Two beady brown eyes peered out from beneath a low hanging brow, glinting in the snow’s reflected sunlight.  He wore a brown overcoat sashed tightly at the waist, with black garments underneath.  

They sized each other up for several tense seconds, both involuntarily tensing up.  It was Ash who broke the silence, raising an eyebrow.  "So, which one are you?  Pi?"

"Smart, aren’t you?" the man smirked.  "No.  My name is Omega.  Perhaps you’ve heard of my team?"

"Your team?"

Omega’s features grew dark at the thought of the past few months of embarrassment.  "You’ve humiliated the Omega Red for the last time."  He leaned in close, hovering just a few inches away from Ash’s face.  "You crushed my ronin.   You flash-fried my strong woman.  You cowed my marksman.  You left my master of disguise a broken sack of meat."

"Master of who now?"

Omega pulled back, taking care to keep the gun well hidden from public sight.  He continued to examine the boy visually, rubbing his chin.  "I have to say, I thought you’d be taller."

"I get that a lot."  Ash’s patience snapped.  "Look, if you’re going to do it, then get it over with and just kill me!"

"Keep your voice down." Omega cautioned him with a wave of his gun.  "I’m not going to kill you in the middle of a public street in broad daylight.  That would be rude and unprofessional."

"Then why-"

"I just wanted to meet you."  Omega pocketed the sidearm, digging his hands deep into his coat to stave off the cold.  He wasn’t used to the bitter, frosty weather of Alaska, but he had too much pride in what he did to let it affect his work.   "I wanted to see the boy that defeated the Omega Red."

"I just want you to know," Ash warned him, keeping his voice as cold and menacing as possible, "I won’t go down easy."  He leaned in further, growing angrier at the sheer audacity and arrogance of this criminal murderer.  "And I promise you: I won’t go down alone."

Omega simply smiled.  "On your way, young lad.  You have some business to take care of."  Ash began stalking off, torn between rage and fear.  "Oh, and Ash?"  The boy turned his head, glancing back at his name’s mention.   "See you around."
* * *

"Have we reached the chamber yet?"

Rocko rolled his eyes, pulling his hardhat tightly over his brow as he walked on with his pickaxe slung over his shoulder.  A small man trailed behind him, wearing a white coat that hung down to his ankles.  Deep underground in the coal mines just outside of Snowfort, the labcoat’s white edges were turning brown with black soot that matted the ground like a carpet.   The man’s presence in the mine was rather amusing to Rocko and his dayshift dig crew; he barely came up to their collars, and was no more than half as wide.

"I’ll let you know when we reach it." Rocko assured him in a gruff voice.  "Until then, just sit down and shut up."

"I will have you know," the man assured him, "That I have the full backing of the American Scientific Council.  If you so much as harm that chamber-"

"Look," Rocko continued down the dimly lit tunnel, squeezing in between two of his men coming up for their break, "What’s so important about this "chamber" thing?"  The scientist squeezed past as well, ducking beneath their tools lest he lose head.   "This area’s full of geological oddities like that.  It’s nothing but a pocket of air, or maybe some other, less friendly gas.  Oh, by the way, you’re going to want this."  He unhooked a mask from his belt, handing it back to the scientist without looking.

The scientist grabbed the mask, yanking it from Rocko’s grip.  "I’ve done research on the area in conjunction with the Pokémopolitan project currently going on outside of a small town on Pokémon Island," he explained, "And it is the opinion of myself and my associates that-"

"Could we possibly speed things up a bit?"

"We believe this site is the location of a Pokémopolitan temple," he spilled quickly.  Rocko stopped at this, which the scientist took to be an opening to continue.  "We...that is my fellow researchers and I, we believe that this site was built to honor a very powerful Pokémon-"

"What in blazes is a Pokémopolitan?" Rocko scratched his head, moving to the end of the tunnel and into the metal grate lift he and his men had set up to access the lower level.  The scientist following him just managed to slip in as he shut the door with a clang, pulling the lever to take them down.   "Sounds like a French film, or something."

The scientist nearly had a stroke.  "The Pokémopolitans," he raved, "Were the most powerful group of people in the history of...of...all of history!  They predated the Celtics, the Byzantines, the Egyptians, even the Romans!  They ruled an empire that spanned the globe from their capitol city of Pokémopolis.   Some even say that they created Pokémon themse-"

"We’re here."  Rocko thanked providence that the scientist finally shut up as they approached the southern wall of the mine.  Their dig had hit a large cavern several weeks before, which branched out into dozens of smaller tunnels.  One tunnel in particular had held their interest, which, by coincidence, was the one the scientists were interested in.   The southernmost tunnel had halted a hundred yards in, blocked off by a perfectly smooth wall of frozen, solidified magma.  It wouldn’t have been so odd, except they were surrounded by sedimentary deposits, and there wasn’t a volcanic vein in the earth’s crust for at least fifteen miles.

The scientist’s jaw dropped open as he gaped at the towering ceilings of the cavern.  "Oh my God..."

"What?"

Once again, the scientist dodged a stroke by mere centimeters as he went off on another one of his boring tangents.  "This room is a perfect hemisphere!"  When he saw Rocko’s questioning look, the scientist took his flashlight and shined it up at the ceiling, adding to the electric lanterns set up all around the perimeter.   "Look at the ceiling.  See those stalactites?"  At Rocko’s nod, he continued, "Now, try and imagine the entire room without the stalactites, or the stalagmites."  He shook the flashlight’s beam about excitedly, swaying the light to and fro.   "I can’t be certain until we’ve taken some measurements, but I’m willing to bet my pocket protector that it’s exactly one half of a sphere."

They continued on, moving towards the passage in question.  "And why is that so important?" Rocko made the mistake of asking.  "So it’s a hemisphere.  So what?"

"Hemispheres don’t form naturally, my blue-collared friend." The scientist informed him.  "The Pokémopolitans prided themselves on being master architects.  This is exactly the kind of work they would have..." He trailed off as they reached the end of the southern passage, his voice growing silent in a heartbeat.   Rocko had instructed his men to set up any extra lanterns around the smooth wall in anticipation of the scientist’s arrival.  

"This is it." Rocko set his pickaxe down and leaned next to it against the wall.  He rolled his eyes once again as the scientist nearly exploded with ecstasy, running up to the wall and running his hands over the smooth volcanic rock.  The black stone stood out from the sedimentary deposits surrounding them from all sides of the tunnel, covered in a thin layer of dust from the excavation.   "Should I leave the two of you alone?"

"This is incredible!" the scientist screeched in delight, pulling brushes and tiny picks from his white coat.  He began to brush away the dirt and debris layered on the rock face.  "I mean, this can’t possibly be natural, it just-" He stopped cold.   The metal pick clutched delicately between his fingers clattered to the ground, followed quickly by his brush.  "Oh my lord..."

His utter silence piqued Rocko’s curiosity.  Despite his good sense, he approached the man and leaned in over his shoulder.  "What?  Anything important?"

His eyes scanned the reflective black surface, searching the area the scientist had recently cleared.  Rocko felt his own amazement grow as the tiny inscriptions slowly came into focus.  He reached out, brushing his fingers over the tiny, organized scratches.   The stone felt warm to the touch, and seemed to pulse faintly against his skin as if it were somehow alive.

The scientist slapped his hands away.  "Careful, you boob!" he cried, trying to push Rocko away, but lacking the body mass to do so.  "These inscriptions are thousands of years old.  They’re very delicate!"

"What do they say?" Rocko whispered the question, filled with a sense of awe that had come from nowhere.  He wasn’t the type to get interested in a bunch of old rocks, seeing as how it was his job to clear them away every day for the rest of his life, but he had never found an artifact before.   It held a spell over him; the stone called to him, begging him to find out what was inside.

"I intend to find out."  The scientist looked to him, held under the same spell.  "Can your men remove this stone face without damaging it?"  For the first time since their meeting, the scientist’s voice held no sense of superiority, no contempt for Rocko.

"Yeah...it’ll take some time, but yeah."  He pulled out his radio to call his best dig team, running through some quick calculations in his head for widening the tunnel so as to remove the rock face.

"Good." The scientist whispered.  "Then let’s start immediately."  Despite his admonishing earlier, he couldn’t help but touch the stone as Rocko had.  A tingle ran through his fingertips and down his spine, chilling him to the bone.   Whatever was behind this unusual find was going to be big.

Very big.
* * *

Ash’s face was broadcasting general despair at the moment, and not one force in the universe could lead him to care.  It wasn’t the hard, uncomfortable wooden chairs that the court had provided, or the fact that he was wearing a suit that was a size too small for him.   No, as he tugged at the tight, restrictive collar, he decided that it was everything else the cosmos was throwing at him that had gotten him down.  As such, his usually calm, confident demeanor had gone straight out the window and was currently squatting in three feet of filthy frozen snow, and he just didn’t care.   Brock sat next to him, occasionally tossing him concerned looks and asking him whispered questions, mostly about his pale complexion, but Ash simply waved him off and insisted that he was fine.  

Misty and Dixie sat near the back of the courtroom as per his request; as much as he relied on them both, this was his fight, and at the moment there was only one person capable of helping him.  The fact that the person needed Brock’s help at the moment meant that Brock would be caught in the crossfire as well, and for that Ash felt a rather large amount of guilt.   He knew that if Brock’s own reputation were to be tarnished by this sordid affair that his friend would never say two words about any of it, but that wouldn’t take away the fact that it was his fault.

Sitting before them was a tall tower of polished oak, where a judge would take the entirety of his life for the past six years boiled down to statistics and evaluate him based on those numbers and facts.  He had read the evidence that Gary and the others among Indigo’s top ranks had piled against him, and he couldn’t say that he liked it.   Ash had never been in a courtroom before, and the entire setting made him nervous.  It smelled of lemon and wood polish, and the empty jury box on the far right of the room reminded him that he would not be judged by a group of his peers, but by a League official, and that might have made all the difference.

The large double doors swung back and forth, parting to allow a small flock of people enter the room.  Ash and Brock both craned their necks to see who it was, and Ash’s worried complexion immediately darkened.  Entering the room, clad in a black suit identical to Ash’s was Garret Oak, current Indigo League champion and prosecutor for this trial.   He had cut his hair, cropping it close to his scalp and giving him a buzzed appearance.  A small black folder was tucked beneath his arm, cradled as if it were the Holy Grail.  He passed by Ash, unwilling to meet his fellow trainer’s gaze.   The look in his eye was crystal clear, however; if he had his way, they would not be fellow trainers by the end of the day.

Two figures trailed after Gary, both dressed in dark black suit dresses.  The women were polar opposites; one beautiful and young, the other ancient and wizen.  However, when the feminine half of the Elite Four caught sight of Ash Ketchum, their eyes became indistinguishable from each other’s, filled with such hatred that mortal men hoped never to see.

Ash stared into the bath of loathing coming from Agatha and Lorelei without batting an eye.  After years as the League Champion himself, he was more than used to the fact that those two had it out for him.  The reason behind their anger had always escaped him, but in truth, he couldn’t have cared less.   Ash had been more than willing to let bygones be bygones, but now they had struck a low blow; now they had dragged him back in.  They were trying to take away that which he loved most of all.  Ash glanced down at Pikachu, and felt a small sliver of warmth as his Pokémon returned the look with confidence and trust brimming in its deep, dark eyes.   Silently, he swore to himself and his friends that he would not let them down, that they would not separate the family they had created.

The court’s bailiff strode into the room, wearing his traditional sidearm.  He was attached to the courthouse, and so had no real experience with a League trial.  "All rise," he called out in a booming bass, "For the honorable Judge Evans."

The double doors to the backroom swung open as a sleight, balding man wearing flowing robes of midnight strode into the room, carrying a gold-trimmed gavel.  "Thank you.  Please be seated." He murmured as he took the bench, hoisting himself up to the high seat of office.   "Court is now in session.  First and only case of the day; the Indigo League of Kanto verses Ashlan T. Ketchum on the grounds of willful neglect and endangerment of Pokémon, disregard for the safety of others while training and battling Pokémon, and upwards of one-hundred and twelve separate violations of League regulations, most recent of which being the Rule of Six."

Ash swallowed hard, casting a glance over at Brock.  His friend tried to give him a supportive look, but the Rock trainer looked equally as green around the gills.  Ash had already read over the charges against him, but it sounded like an awful lot coming from an official judge of the league.

The judge cast a long, examining glare over the bridge of his black spectacles at Ash before looking down at the case file sitting in front of him.  "I’ve taken a cursory look over the prosecution’s case, and have deemed that there is sufficient evidence to warrant a trial.   Therefore, you will each be given fifteen minutes for an opening statement, after which court will be in recess for one hour so that I may familiarize myself further with the case before hearing the arguments."  Evans turned his attention to Gary, motioning for him to rise.   "Mr. Prosecutor, you may begin."

Gary took one last look at his thick folder before standing.  He straightened his suit coat, approaching the bench calmly, running a hand across his prickly scalp.  Clearing his throat, he began to speak crisply and quickly.  "Your honor.   Ladies and gentlemen of the court.  Distinguished guests," he indicated Lorelei and Agatha seated at his table.  Oddly enough, there seemed to be a bit more emphasis on ‘distinguished’ than Ash, Misty, or Brock would have expected.  The tiny detail passed by Dixie and the rest of the unfamiliar court, who were far more interested in the rest of the speech.   "I stand before you here today with a mission, a mission of paramount importance; to revoke the training license of one Ash Ketchum."  At the name, Gary waved a hand at Ash’s table.  

Ash was suddenly filled with murderous rage, and very nearly leapt from the table with chair in hand to beat the very life out of Gary.  It was Brock’s quick reflexes that stopped him before he ever rose from his chair.  The bailiff caught the sudden twitch, and shot Ash a look that suggested he think otherwise.

Oblivious to Ash’s anger, Gary continued, "I have here," he held up the black folder, "A list of League violations committed by Mr. Ketchum.  These are not simply minor violations, such as his recent disregard for the League’s Rule of Six.   No."  His head hung low for a moment, and he took noticeable pause before continuing.  "There are at least seventy-two instances in which he placed his Pokémon in unnecessary and mortal danger.  To list a few," he pulled a sheet of paper from the stack within the folder, "The destruction of the Viridian City Pokémon Center, which occurred within forty-eight hours of obtaining his license.   The destruction of the Cinnibar Island Gym-"

"That WASN’T my fault!" Ash shot, but was immediately silenced by Evans’ furious gavel.

"Mr. Ketchum," Judge Evans boomed, "You will be respectful of the prosecution, you will be respectful of my court, you will be silent, or YOU, Mr. Ketchum," his gavel jabbed in Ash’s direction dangerously, "Will be held in contempt of court.  Understood?"

Gary continued at Ash’s defeated nod.  "The destruction of the Viridian City Gym, the mysterious focal point of natural disasters recorded in the Orange Islands nearly five years ago-"

Evans waved him off.  "Enough.  Mr. Oak, you have established that disaster tends to follow Mr. Ketchum quite frequently.  Are you prepared to prove that he is responsible for said disasters?"

"I am, your honor."

The judge nodded.  "Very well.  Please be seated."  Evans looked to Ash’s table as Gary took his seat.  He then nodded to Brock.  "Counselor, you have the floor for your opening statement."

Brock rose, straightening his jacket.  "Thank you, your honor," he approached the bench slowly, "But I will not be serving as Mr. Ketchum’s attorney.  Rather, I will be assisting him."

Evans frowned as a quiet muttering passed through the courtroom like a living wave.  "Mr. Stone, is it?" He peered around Brock, looking about the front of the courtroom.  "If you are not Mr. Ketchum’s lawyer, than who is?"

"Someone far better versed in Indigo law than myself." Brock reached into his pocket, pulling out a small red device and flipping its cover open to reveal a myriad of technological interfaces and screens that came to life in a heartbeat.

"Pokédex Unit Four, fifth generation, model DEX IV." Dexter introduced himself with a beep.  "Your honor, if it pleases the court-"

"Your honor, I object!" It was Lorelei who stood and shouted, rising in a swirl of feminine righteousness packed into a blouse two sizes too small.  "This is ridiculous!  Mr. Ketchum cannot be represented by a pocket calculator.  I demand that he get proper legal council."   ‘So that he can’t whine when he loses,’ was the unspoken part she passed along to Ash via a smug gaze.

"I must admit," Evans eyed the device suspiciously, "It is unseemly for someone to be represented by a machine."

"It’s also unseemly for a grown man under three hundred pounds to wear a black muumuu out of season," Dexter countered, "But I was too polite to mention it."

Evans seemed taken aback by the quip, so Brock took advantage of his momentary speechlessness to add, "The Pokédex has been programmed with all legal documentation concerning Indigo law, including all nine thousand pages of regulations and all transcripts of cases for the past two hundred years."

Evans still seemed unsure.  "While odd, I cannot think of any stipulations that negate the use of a machine as legal council.  However," he jabbed his gavel at Brock’s hand, "I suggest that you keep that device in line, Mr. Stone."

Dexter muttered something inaudible before continuing.  "As I was saying before I was so skankily interrupted," There was a small squeak of indignation from Lorelei as she sat down, "We intend to prove that Mr. Ash Ketchum is not only a model trainer, but also a credit to the human species.   In addition, he has minty fresh breath, and looks both ways before crossing the street."

"Mr. Dex." Evans’ tone contained a sharp tone of warning, one that even Dexter could not overlook.

"I’m sorry, your honor."  Clearing a throat he did not have, Dexter continued, "We of the defense intend to show the court that Mr. Ketchum’s so-called ‘spotty’ record is a result of his aid towards others, oftentimes in conjunction with the antics of a certain international crime ring known publicly as Team Rocket.   In short, ladies and gentlemen," Dexter finished with his grand slammer, "Mr. Ketchum is on trial for being a generous, caring person."
* * *

Ash groaned, leaning up against the vending machines in the lobby.  His hat tilted down into his face as he slid down the side of the snack machine, squeaking against the glass all the way to the grimy floor.  "This just isn’t my day." He moaned, cradling his face with his hands.

"It’ll be okay, Ash." Gear tried to cheer him up from his wrist with soothing reassurances, but they were lost on his deaf ears.  "Dexter will think of something…won’t you, Dexter?"

"Is this a bad time to mention that I don’t work on contingency?" Dexter quipped from within Brock’s pocket.

The young trainer ignored them all, thumping his head against the machine in frustration.  Not only did he have to deal with this whole trial, but once he stepped outside he was probably going to be killed with a sniper’s bullet from three hundred yards without ever seeing it coming.   Worst of all, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was going to happen, something even worse than anything else that had happened today.

The door to the courtroom swung open, piercing Ash’s pity trip.  He looked up to find Gary standing a few feet from him and his friends, shifting uncomfortably in polished black shoes.  Ash immediately sprung to his feet, fists cocked and mind clouded with pure, unadulterated rage.   "You have a lot of nerve to step within ten meters of me without a bailiff around, Oak." He snarled.  Brock immediately made a move to catch him before he could try to kill Gary, but he had no intention of becoming physical just yet.  There were some words that needed to be exchanged first.

Gary simply stared at him, silent as a tomb.  There was an indiscernible look about him, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite put it into words.  In the end, all he could do was look at the floor and squeak, "I’m sorry, Ash."

"Sorry?" Ash couldn’t believe his ears.  Gary had just stood in front of a crowd of people…in front of an official judge of the League…and claimed that Ash was an embarrassment to trainers everywhere, and now he was sorry?  "SORRY?"   Now Brock had to hold Ash back; the brawny gym leader struggled to keep Ash from doing something he would later regret, surprised at Ash’s hidden strength.  "Don’t you dare say that to me, you little fungus!"

"Believe it or don’t," Gary snapped at him, feeding off of Ash’s anger and reflecting it.  "I don’t want to be here any more than you do, Ash."  His anger faded as quickly as it had arisen, and his features became dour once more.  "There’s nothing I can-"

"OAK!"

They turned to the outside door of the courthouse just in time to catch an icy blast of wind to the face.  As the tears from the stinging cold receded, Ash caught sight of a figure clad in dark winter robes.  He removed the heavy cowl from his face, revealing angular Asian features twisted into a furious scowl that very nearly burned a hole through Gary Oak.   Samurai removed the warm robes with a flourish, revealing a pressed suit beneath.  Though he was without armor, his sword was still strapped deftly to his hip.

"Garrett Oak," Samurai snarled, "I hereby challenge you to a Pokémon match.  He drew a capture sphere from his jacket, expanding it to full size as he strode forward.  "The loser shall renounce their trainership and be forever shamed!"   He thrust the ball defiantly into Gary’s face, trying unsuccessfully to intimidate the shameful trainer; Gary didn’t even blink.

"I’m not afraid of you, sword-slinger." Gary spat darkly.

Samurai stole a glance over Gary’s shoulder, and a smile began to creep onto his face.  "Then perhaps you should be afraid of her, yes?" he asked with a nod.

Gary risked a glance over his shoulder, and was immediately filled with a cold, sickly fear at the sight of a shock of stunning crimson hair.  "Oh God, NO!"

Misty stood in the doorway of the courtroom with Dixie at her shoulder.  Her face had color creeping slowly from the neck up, growing red enough to match her tangled locks.  "Gary…" she growled in a low, dangerous voice.  Her jacket was off before any of them knew it, handed off to Dixie in a tumble of blue cloth as she pushed the sleeves of her silk blouse up past the elbows.   With deliberate, unhurried steps she advanced on the cornered prosecutor, her fists balled and eyes blazing.

Gary backpedaled until he slammed into the vending machines so hard it spat out three cans of Diet Caterpie Cola.  Misty caught up with him, giving him a hearty shove and putting him back up onto the machines hard enough to receive another two cans.   "Ahhhh…so-rahhhhh…" Gary choked as her hands found their way to his neck.

"I swear to you," Misty snarled as Ash and Brock grabbed hold of her hands, trying to pry her off, "It doesn’t matter what the outcome of this case is.  It doesn’t matter where you go."  Her eyes met with his as she hovered mere inches from his face.   "It doesn’t matter what you do.  I will find you, and I will make you suffer like no other human being has ever suffered before I finish you off slowly torturously, excruciatingly, and painfully…oh, so very painfully."

Gary simply trembled as Ash and Brock finally found the strength to pull her away.  He gasped and clawed at his throat, coughing furiously as she was dragged off kicking and screaming.  "Nothing…I can…do." He insisted as Dixie and Samurai accompanied the struggling trio.   Despite the stress to his windpipe, Gary really couldn’t blame any of them for hating him.  He watched them go off down the hall, wanting desperately to explain, to apologize again, to make things right…but in the end, all he would end up doing…all he could do…was to bring them more misery.

The worst wasn’t over.  It was only beginning.
* * *

"What in blazes were you thinking?" Ash practically shouted at her as he and Brock threw her onto the floor several twists and turns down the hall.  He snagged her blue coat from Dixie and tossed it at her, covering her face.  

      As she pulled the material away from her head, she couldn’t believe how angry Ash was with her.  She had seen him livid before, but never at her; as he looked at her now, she saw nothing but rage from his eyes.  She couldn’t meet his gaze, and instead looked down at the floor.   "I just…I wanted to help."

      "Help?" he spat, foaming at the mouth so badly he had to give pause to wipe away the spittle, "You call that helping?"  His feet began to pace the floor wildly, nearly taking Pikachu’s tail off and forcing the Pokémon to scamper to safety.   "You assaulted my prosecutor in the middle of a courthouse!  You threatened to kill him!"  He spun back around to face her, raising his hands for emphasis.  "Do you have any idea what they’re going to do to me now?"
 
     "No." she squeaked.  Her blue eyes wavered as she shrank back from Ash for the very first time.
 
     He exploded in frustration, shouting impotently at the ceiling.  "Neither do I!  But you can bet," he added in a hoarse growl, "That they’re going to use every card they have against me, and you just gave them the freakin’ Ace of Spades!"
 
     Dixie laid her hand on his shoulder, pulling him gently from his tirade directed at Misty.  "That’s enough, Ash," she drawled softly in his ear, but loudly enough for the rest of them.  "She was only trying to help.   It isn’t her fault."
 
     "Pi…" Pikachu added its own two cents, tugging on Ash’s pant leg with its tiny claw.  "Pikachu.  Pi, pika pika pi pi chu."
 
     "I just…" He fumed, helpless against her tiny hand.  He knew it wasn’t Misty’s fault.  He knew that she had acted without thinking, a mistake that he was guilty of countless times.  It was just that with everything else going on, he didn’t need her adding to it.   He just felt so angry, and helpless, and-

       Cold.

       Pain.

       Death.

       Ash clutched his head, falling to his knees as the unknown feeling swarmed over him a second time.  A primal scream unlike any heard before escaped his lips, echoing down the hallowed halls of justice.  The scream caused his friends to stand back, uncertain of what to do.   Likewise, Ash was powerless to stop the shadow of pure, icy obsidian that swallowed his soul.  

      Though it seemed to go on forever, the feeling passed in a handful of seconds.  Repossessed of his senses, Ash halted his cry, uncapping his hands from his ears with shuddering breath.  Tears ran down his cheeks as he pushed himself up onto his knees, heaving greedy breaths into his tortured lungs, a cold sweat suddenly soaking his undershirt and pouring off of his face.
 
     "Ash!" his friends recovered from their shock, rushing forward in unison and helping him to his feet.  He dusted himself off, brushing aside their help, but grateful for it nonetheless.

      "Pika!"

      "I guess Misty finally gave him that stroke I always said she would." Brock quipped, and received a slap on the shoulder from both women.  
 
     Samurai, in the meantime, shook his head solemnly.  His hand rested on his sword, as it always did when he felt ill at ease.  "A cold wind has blown through here.  I can sense it," he locked eyes with Ash, "And I suspect you did as well, no?"

      Ash nodded slowly, swaying unsteadily on his feet.  Reaching out to Dixie to help steady himself, he wiped away the sheen of sweat coating his forehead.  "Black…coal…darkness…under…the ground…"  The words escaped his lips without any understanding.   His head was filled with images: a dark tunnel winding down into the pits of hell itself; a pair of glowing crimson eyes looming in the inky blackness; lives being lost, souls being tossed into the void without pause or thought…

      "What does it all mean?" Misty asked, rising in tandem with Ash with concern splayed across her delicate features.  "What’s this darkness?"
 
     "It’s starting again."  Ash looked between her, Brock and Pikachu.
 
     Dixie and Samurai were even more confused than before.  "What’s starting?" Dixie was the first to ask.
 
     "Mount Moon." He muttered, gaining more equilibrium with each passing second, "It started at Mount Moon, and now it has come here."

      Though the wayward warrior and his southern belle didn’t understand, he knew that his two friends knew in an instant what he referred to; it had been almost a year since his battle with the terrifying black mist of death, Missingno.   Was Missingno back to finish the job it had started so many months ago?
 
     "What do we do?" Brock was all business now.  His face became grim-set and stony, his demeanor strong and determined.  "What can we do to help?"

They both knew the answer, even before Ash spoke it.  "I have to go."
 
     "Go?" the muffled cry erupted from Brock’s pocket.  "Excuse me, but in case no one’s noticed, we have a trial going on here that’s going to decide the fate of the rest of your LIFE!"  Brock brought him out, holding him in the middle of their impromptu huddle.   "What exactly could be important enough for you to leave in the middle of our trial date?"

Simple." Ash chuckled ruefully, knowing full well it wasn’t.  The answer was that he needed to be there, in the courtroom, and he also needed to find the source of the disturbance.  So, simply put; "I’ll have to be in two places at once."
 
     "Oh.  Ha.  Ha ha." Dexter laughed forcibly.  "How droll.  How very amusing.  Have you given thought to the fact that, as a corporeal being subject to the laws of time, space, and physics, you can’t be in two places simultaneously?"

       His mind raced in an uncharacteristic burst of thought as he ran through their collective assets.  The obvious solution would be to send a duplicate in his place in the courtroom while he handled whatever situation cropped up in the foothills beyond Snowfort’s borders.  

       But who?  Brock had already taken his place at Ash’s side in court, and besides which, his massive frame could never pass for Ash’s relatively wiry body.  He and Samurai were closer in build, but the warrior would undoubtedly be tripped up once Gary started to play hardball.   Silently, he wished Duplica had been the one to deliver the subpoena instead of Samurai.  Despite the welcome sight of his old friend, Duplica’s mastery of change and disguise would have saved the day.  Even then, though, she wouldn’t have been able to answer all of the questions from his past.   In fact, aside from Brock, the only other person on Earth who could answer the questions to come would be…would be…

      A slow grin blossomed on Ash’s face as he turned back to Misty.  His hand rubbed across his smooth jaw, comparing her athletic frame with his own.  "Misty…" he intoned slowly, "Have I ever told you what a feminine bloom you’ve turned out to be?"

       "No…" her gaze shifted uncomfortably, afraid of where the conversation was headed.

      He nodded to himself, taking his suit’s jacket off and draping it across her shoulders.  "There’s a reason for that."  As she huffed indignantly, he reactivated Gear’s primary program, bringing her personality back online from its hibernation.   "Gear, is that little toy the Professor was working on operational?"

       "Affirmative." Gear informed him, "However, while I estimate satisfactory performance, I can only guarantee a seventy-eight-point-two percent effectiveness."  A small section of her casing detached, allowing Ash to pull it off effortlessly and examine it between his thumb and forefinger.

      "It’ll do perfectly.  Pull up a search engine; I need a hair salon that takes walk-ins, and takes them fast."  Turning back to his befuddled beauty, he threw an arm over Misty’s frame, giving her an encouraging grin.   "Misty," he said, "I’m about to pay you the highest form of compliment."  Before she could ask, he clarified with a wave of his hand, "I am going to make you…into me."
       * * *

       "Oh my dear, sweet lord…"

       Rocko stood by the scientist as they gazed into the cavernous space for the first time.  He and his crews had removed the plug, propping the circular stone up against the wall of the inner chamber.  Several large lanterns had already been set up around the floor, shedding soft amber light across the obsidian walls and casting long, ominous shadows that teased and terrified the mind.   Despite his own jaded skepticism, Rocko found himself agreeing with the scientist’s sentiment; it truly was something to behold.

       Despite the enormity of the room, it appeared at first glance to be completely empty.  The first things to catch the eye were the long, dusky white inscriptions that ran from floor to ceiling in the cylindrical room, surrounding them on all sides with intelligible volumes of information.   Letting his neck swivel every which way to take in the scriptures and pictographs, he muttered, "What do you suppose they mean?"

       "I don’t know." The scientist’s voice was equally soft.  "Pokémopolitan is a deceptively difficult language to translate.  It could take decades to translate that door."  His feet brought him into the room without thought, taking him to the nearest set of writing.   He ran his finger over several of the letters, feeling the cool tingle of the white, gritty lines cut into the mysterious black stone.  The tactile sensation jolted through him like a bolt of electricity and left something within him…something dark, shapeless and pleasing.

      "Hey, what’s that?"

       Rocko’s question drew the scientist away from the runes.  He saw the brutish, simple miner standing in the center of the room.  As he repositioned a light, his scientist companion was able to make out the object of his curiosity; a small black pedestal sat atop a raised platform of dark grey rock, the only object in the room.

       "Don’t touch it, you fool!" The scientist rushed over, all but knocking Rocko right off of his feet as he put himself between Rocko and the pedestal.  He bent over, bringing the light down closer to better examine the platform.   "It could be a fantastic artifact, or a phenomenally old religious relic, or…"

       "Or?" Rocko groused, regaining his balance.  "What is it, an ancient Poké-moplopo-whatsit egg beater?"

      The scientist didn’t even hear him.  He stood, transfixed upon the pedestal as if hypnotized somehow.  With growing curiosity, Rocko looked over the scientist’s shoulder to investigate, and drew in a sharp breath at the sight before him.   There, sitting on top of the black pedestal was a small black orb, a perfect sphere of solid obsidian that gleamed in the dim, unnatural light of the electric lamps.  It was flawlessly smooth despite its age and the age of all around it, and devoid of the perpetual dust that seemed to have worked its way into every other craggy surface in the hemispherical room.

       Both men breathed shallowly with shuddering lungs, mesmerized beyond conscious thought by the sight of the orb.  The scientist, having discovered the orb first, seemed more deeply held by its spell.  He could hear something within it calling to him, whispering in a velvety soft voice with promises of power and wealth.   ‘Come to me…Embrace me…’ the voice insisted softly.

       "Yes…" the scientist murmured.  Power.  Ultimate power.  It would all be his.  He just had to reach out…touch the power…and he would become power.  Force itself.  His hand grazed the surface tentatively, as if some last lingering doubts were holding him back, but he soon conquered them, and cupped the black sphere firmly in his hand.   The ball lifted easily from its place on the pedestal as the scientist held it aloft, reveling in its beauty.  His head swam with energy, his soul fed off of it as the chi flowed from the ball and into his body.

       Three seconds later, all hell broke lose.
       * * *

      Ash sighed contently, taking a small breather at the top of the ridge that he, Pikachu, Dixie and Samurai had been hiking along.  They could have followed the trail, but even laden with their packs, it was faster to move cross-country.   His toes wiggled in their tennis shoes, free at last from the dress socks and polished loafers, and his hatless head of hair wafted gently in the breeze.  It almost didn’t matter to him that it took a crisis of biblical proportions to get him out of those dress clothes.   After months of hopping from city to city, it felt all too good to be back out in the middle of nature itself with nothing but the pack on his shoulders and miles of wide open mountains in every direction.

       "Pika?"

       He looked down at Pikachu, giving his mousy companion a small, forced grin.  In the past year since his battle with Missingno, since his introduction into a world far beyond the scope of his ability to understand, he had forgotten the path that he walked.   No, it was worse; he had pushed it aside, unable or unwilling to deal with the titanic responsibility that had been thrust onto him.  "Almost there…I think."  He turned back, querying the trotting pair behind him.  "We almost there yet?"

       Dixie held a map in front of her, trying to read it as it fluttered in the wind.  "Almost, Ash." She called up, grunting as her aching calves and thighs lifted her up the last few feet of the ridge’s crest.  "I think the entrance to the mine’s just down there."   Reaching Ash, she pointed down into the sprawling valley below.  Squinting, Ash peered downward, shielding his eyes from the sun with a free hand.  Pikachu mimicked him, just barely spotting the heavy machinery parked next to a large mound of waste material.

       Samurai, slower than the other two thanks to his protective armor, huffed to join them.  "Excellent." He grunted with red cheeks.  "Not that I mind the exercise, mind you," he added hastily between gulping breaths, "But the sooner we find the source of the-"

       "Whoa." Ash suddenly scowled.  His hand shot to his temple as he staggered slightly.  It was only by Dixie’s steadying hand that he didn’t topple over the ridge and tumble all the way down to the bottom.

      "What-"

      Ash cut Dixie’s question off, shaking his head to diffuse the dark feeling that struck him.  After the first two times, he knew what to expect, and could handle it better.  "We’ve got bad mojo…" Ash muttered grimly, gazing down into the valley.
 
     Samurai took his helmet off, wiping his brow.  "We know that, Ash.  That is why we journey towards-"
 
     "No," Ash insisted urgently.  "I mean, we have bad mojo ‘right now’."

      Spying about for a moment, Dixie raised a finger in triumph, pointing just a few meters down the way.  "There’s a trail that can take us down.  It shouldn’t take long."

      "Let’s-"

      Ash’s commanding tone was cut abruptly as a spray of rock and soil was tossed into the air, accompanied by a deafening roar that very nearly popped their ear drums.  They stumbled back, spitting dust and dirt, blinking it away.   Through the constant ringing and over the sound of his own coughing, Ash heard a single, booming voice pierce the cloud of debris:

       "The first shot was a warning for your little friends, Ketchum."  The dirt settled, revealing one of Ash’s worst nightmares standing across the ravine on the other ridge.  Though difficult to see in the distance, Ash could make out a lone figure frozen in a jaunty pose, decked out in a coal black jumpsuit with bright red trim.   He wore a large, metallic rig strapped to his back, with several launch racks at the shoulders still smoldering from his first shots.  

       "Who in blazes is that?" Dixie coughed.

       His eyes narrowed.  "An assassin." He growled.  "The last assassin."

       "That’s right, Ash." Omega agreed, loading up another pair of missiles into his launch tubes.  "Now, tell your little buddies to skedaddle, or they might find themselves on the wrong end of some unjust retribution."

      "God," Ash grumbled, "Why do they all want to talk my ears off?"  His hand strayed towards his belt.  He could feel the air about them charge suddenly as Pikachu began powering up, increasing the chemical reactions in the sacs on its cheeks that provided its bioelectricity.   "Pikachu, we need a defensive lightning spread.  Charizard and Pidgeot will attack from the air while I rig the balls’ targeting sensors to release Ivysaur and Wartortle on the other side of the ravine."

       Samurai was already two steps ahead of him, however.  He had dislodged his pack, relieving it of his own Pokéballs and moving his sheath the rest on his back.  "No, Ash."

       "What?"

       He scowled, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.  "Whatever you felt," he rumbled, "Is awakening as we waste time here.  There may be a chance for you to stop it."  He looked past Ash’s shoulder, scowling as Omega waved arrogantly at their conference.   "Go.  I will attend to this small matter."

      "But."

      "GO!"

       Samurai’s harsh words ended the argument.  He leapt forward, drawing his katana with a vicious battle cry that spurred Ash and Dixie down the side of the ravine.  Pikachu bounded after them, leaping from rock to rock.   In a moment, the agile mouse was several yards ahead, leading the charge down the impromptu path.

       "Now that’s just rude, Ash." Omega shook his head.  Lowering his targeting goggles, he began to take a bead on the running pair and their Pokémon protector.  His thumb was just about to close down on the trigger when an impact on his missile pack knocked him backwards, forcing him to stumble back or lose his footing.   "What the…" Tearing the goggles from his eyes, he looked back at his shoulder to spy a quivering blade sticking from the launcher, glinting in the pure Alaskan sun.

       The assassin looked up just in time to see Samurai take to the air, set aloft by his screeching Scyther.  He hung on to the beast’s feet, swinging to and fro in an insane stunt that was typical of Ash’s circle of friends.   "Prepare to defend yourself, murderer!" Samurai hollered.  He let go of Scyther’s feet, landing just a few feet from Omega in a defensive crouch.  "You have met our match!"

       "Not yet." Omega sneered, pulling the sword from his now useless missile rack and tossing it back to the youthful warrior.  He unshouldered the pack, letting the heavy machinery clatter to the ground, and began working the kinks out of his muscles.   Staring down both Samurai and his fearsome Bug Pokémon didn’t phase him in the least.  "Not ever."

       Those were the last words between them as the fearsome battle began…
       * * *

       Judge Evans’ gavel slammed against the polished wood of his bench, rising above the gentle murmuring of the scattered assembly.  Because the trial was taking place so far from Indigo Plateau, only a handful of league officials had arrived on site to observe the trial, joined by a few legal students seeking courtroom exposure, and a few aficionados of law who had found nothing on television to rival the interest of this trial.  

       "Order in the court, please." Evans spoke quietly.  His voice rarely ever rose beyond a normal tone, and he was not a man quick to anger.  However, with the unorthodox path the trial was quickly taking, he could literally feel his patience wearing thin.   His vision trailed over to the defendant’s table, where Brock sat nervously, tugging at his collar while the sweat poured down his forehead.  "Mr. Stone, does your friend Mr. Ketchum realize the gravity of the situation?"

       Brock stole a quick glance over at Gary’s table.  The boy had not spoken a word to him since their confrontation out in the hall.  Instead, he seemed to have given his total focus over to the case at hand.  "Of course, your honor.   I’m sure Ash…er, Mr. Ketchum, that is, was simply delayed…somehow." He finished lamely.  

Dexter muttered indignantly from Brock’s pocket.  As he drew the Pokédex from his coat, Dex’s muffled words became audible.  "Where in the blue blazes of black, evil pudding is she?"

Wondering if Dexter himself understood half of what he said, Brock responded with a low, hoarse whisper.  "I don’t know, but we’re sunk if-"

The double doors of the courtroom suddenly parted with a muted thump, giving cause for the entire throng gathered to turn in unison.  Sure enough, a young man dressed in a pressed black suit stood in the doorway, tugging at his tie and straightening the battered red and white league cap that adorned his crown of unruly black hair.   "Sorry I’m late," Ash’s voice emitted from beneath the down-turned bill, "I, uh, had a little trouble finding the bathroom."

"I’ll thank you to be prompt from now on, Mr. Ketchum." Evans snapped sharply.  "Take your seat, and we’ll continue."

Ash strode down the path, grateful that the people around him were not privy to his silent prayers.  He prayed that none of them noticed that he was several inches shorter than when he had first appeared in this room an hour or so ago.  He prayed that the black coloring in his newly-cropped hair did not begin to run.   He prayed that none of them noticed the tiny device adhered to his throat, altering his voice to a much lower pitch than it naturally was.  Most of all, though, he hoped that no one could tell that the Ash Ketchum coming in possessed a…different set of equipment.

"Where have you been?" Brock hissed so that only he, Dexter, and ‘Ash’ could hear.  "We’ve been sweating bullets waiting for you to come."

"Do not give me crap today, Brock Stone." Misty hissed.  She reached up to rub her eyes, cursing the amber contacts that made them itch like crazy.  "I’m hot, I’m scared, I’m uncomfortable, and if my breasts were taped any tighter to my body I’d be out a pair of mammary glands."   She turned to him, and he felt an unnatural wave of fear.  It was strange to see Misty’s intensity coming from a face that was vaguely Ash-like.  "Shove it."

"Right then." He and Dexter both squeaked.

Gary rose slowly from his seat, clearing his throat once more.  It was decided that the prosecution would go first, followed by the defense.  "Your honor, the prosecution calls Ashlan T. Ketchum to the stand as its first witness."  Everyone seated towards the front of the courtroom could hear Agatha and Lorelei snicker softly.   They were pulling out the stops right from the start, bringing out their biggest guns in hopes of blowing away any meager defense Ash had managed to concoct on such short notice.

Swallowing hard, Misty walked to the witness box with a hesitant gait.  Her fingers clenched tightly into fists to downplay the tremble she had suddenly developed as she found her way to the ominous seat.  As the bailiff swore her in, she couldn’t help but marvel at the sound of Ash’s voice coming from her lips, thanks to the miracle device Gear had supplied her with.   Gear was strapped to her wrist at the moment, operating the tiny rectangular strip attached to her voice box and manipulating the waves of sound she emitted, warping them until their pitch matched that of Ash’s own wavelength.  That was all the device could do, however; it was up to Misty to convince the court that she was, in fact, the boy wonder himself.

‘You have to do this, Misty!’ Ash had insisted, ‘You’re the only one who can!’  Before she could even protest, he had dragged her to a salon, where they had chopped her precious hair down to Ash-length.  In the meantime, he and Brock had ventured out to retrieve the colored contacts and suit complete with heavy shoulder-pads that she now wore, leaving Dixie to use what little make-up they had on hand to try and alter her delicate features into something more masculine.   Fortunately for Ash (depending on how one looked at it), his own face was still very boyish, not too dissimilar from Misty’s own elfin jawline and graceful cheekbones.

"Mr. Ketchum," Gary began to pace the length of the floor in front of her, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, "Perhaps you could describe the day you received your trainer’s license and starting Pokémon for the court?"

Now was when Ash’s choice for a double rang true; Perhaps Samurai, or even Dixie could have filled in equally well for him, at least in the physical sense.  However, Misty had been at his side nearly every day for the past six years, and knew his own life as a trainer almost as well as he did.   What few details she didn’t know about firsthand she had undoubtedly heard from Ash himself, having served as his closest friend and confidant for years.

"Of course." Misty nodded, searching through her memories.  The question was an easy one.  In many ways, Ash’s first day as a trainer was just as important to her life as it was to his.  Her entire world had been turned topsy-turvy the day she had fished a lost, inexperienced boy and his tiny, fragile Pikachu out of that little creek.   "I had woken up late," she started, speaking slowly so as not to miss any details.  "And arrived at Professor Oak’s laboratory about an hour after the other three candidates had received their starting Pokémon…"

Gary suddenly stopped, whirling upon her.  "Mr. Ketchum," he informed her in a hard tone, "Why don’t we skip ahead several hours, to when you carelessly and foolishly destroyed the Pokémon Center in Viridian City?"

"What?" Misty was caught completely off-guard.  She hadn’t been prepared for such a tough, utterly ridiculous question.  "No, that’s not how-"

"Were you, or were you not present at the Viridian City Center at the time of its destruction?" Gary demanded.  His demeanor had changed completely from their tiff in the hall.  It was obvious which one of them was in control of the situation now.

"Y-yes, but-"

"And was it you who ordered the combined electrical assault of several dozen Pikachu?"

"I suppose-"

Gary cut her off, unsatisfied with the wishy-washy response.  "Yes or no, Mr. Ketchum?"

"Yes."

Gary stepped forward quickly, slamming his hands on the edges of the witness box.  His presence was so forceful that even Misty, fearless and unyielding though she was, was taken aback.  His eyes drilled into hers, narrow and icy.  "And are you aware," he asked, "That the tremendous electrical discharge you used to combat Team Rocket also set off a chain reaction in the collective entirety of the Center’s electrical systems, causing a massive overload and subsequent explosion?"

"That’s not how-"

"Answer the question." He demanded.  For several seconds, there was a pregnant pause between them as his eyes scanned over her flustered features.  He seemed momentarily confused, as if there was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.   All of a sudden his eyes grew wide with shock, and his mouth hung low in utter disbelief.  "M…Mister…" he stammered, having completely lost his train of thought.  "Mister Ketchum, will you please…"

Evans seemed puzzled by Gary’s sudden loss of force.  "Mister Oak, is there a problem?"

Gary looked between Evans and Misty, unsure of what course to take.  "Your honor," he said at last, "Would the court be willing to grant myself and Mr. Ketchum a brief restroom break?"

"Mr. Oak," Evans groused, "We just finished a recess of one hour."

"I know…" he whined, "But I really have to go…"

With a deep, soul-searing sigh, Evans caved in.  "Very well." He said tartly, "But make it brief."

Gary didn’t need to be told twice.  He grabbed hold of Misty’s sleeve and all but dragged her out of her seat and over the tiny gate leading into the audience’s section.  There were confused murmurs all around them, but they fell upon Gary’s deaf ears to no effect as he parted the double doors of the courtroom.

Misty yanked her arm from Gary’s grip, trying her best to act as Ash would in this instance.  Unfortunately for her, it would be all too ‘Misty’ of her to express her displeasure with the Oak boy using extreme physical violence and harsh, unladylike words, so she settled for Ash’s usual outrage.   "What in blazes are you doing, Oak?" she spat at him, crossing her arms defiantly across her chest.

"I could ask the same thing of you," he returned with hands on hips.  "Just who do you think you’re kidding anyway?"

The cold sliver of fear that rested at the bottom of Misty’s stomach quadrupled in size, taking on a life of its own and running with her imagination.  "W-what are you talking about?"

A smirk trailed across Gary’s cynical features.  He swept a lock of brown hair from his eyes as they flashed her way with a mixture of haughty confidence and amusement.  "You’re forgetting, Misty," he flabbergasted her, "I’ve known Ash a lot longer than you have.   He and I grew up together in the same nowhere town."  With all sincerity, he added, "I could spot a fake a lot better than you a mile away."

"I don’t know what you-"

His hand snaked forward, snatching from her throat the tiny box that his eagle eyes had zeroed in on only seconds before.  Devoid of the device’s miracle function, her voice snapped back to its usual saintly soprano pitch.

"-talking about." She finished in her own voice before slapping her hands over her own mouth.  Her own eyes grew wide as saucers, with shrinking pupils to match her bone-chilling dread.  "H-how did you-" she asked, lowering her hands from her lips.

"Like I said," he tossed the rectangle back to her, "Ash and I grew up together.  We didn’t always hate each other, you know."

Up until this point, Gear had been using all of her processing power to work her audio magic upon Misty’s vocalizations.  Now that the function had been terminated, her personality speared its way back to the forefront.  "Gary Oak," she scolded him, "You are not a nice young man."

Gary glanced at the talking watch/communicator.  With shaking head, he muttered rhetorically, "What is it with Ash and talking machines?  Can’t he make real friends?  Still," he mused, still talking to himself as Misty tried to recollect her focus, "That thing you did with your voice is pretty cool.   I’ll have to ask Grandpa if he could whip up one of those things for me, too."

Misty had managed to return to her old self, mustering up a bit of the familiar Misty they all knew and loved; a hard, cold figure of steel wrapped in a thin veneer of soft velvet.  "So what happens now?" she demanded rather than asked, trying to assert herself as the one in charge.   It was a weak bluff, however; they both knew Gary held all the cards in the situation.

Gary seemed to consider this for a moment, frowning with thought.  Finally, he asked her, "Where did Ash go?  The real Ash, I mean." He added ruefully with a twinkle in his eye.  Misty, however, remained tight-lipped, offering no excuses or explanations.   Finally he gave in, knowing she would never betray him.  "That’s fine.  Whatever it was, it must have been pretty important for him to try a stunt this stupid.  Am I right?"

She countered with her own question.  "So, are you going to give us away?"

He considered this as well, seemingly thinking quite hard about it.  Finally, he supplied, "You’d better get back in there soon, or they’ll think you fell in."  With one final smirk, he pushed his way through the door, leaving Misty alone with Gear and the tiny voice modulator.

Gear was the first to break the shocked silence.  "I must admit, Misty," she remarked from her place on the water wonder’s wrist, "I had not expected that reaction at all."

Misty replaced the modulator on her throat, feeling it vibrate softly against her skin and returning the male inflection into her voice.  "You know something?  Neither did I."
* * *

Ash, Dixie and Pikachu darted into the mouth of the mine, sprinting for all they were worth.  The soft light thrown from a series of weak electric lights lining the long, imposing corridor did little to warm their spirits, but threw enough illumination to show them the way.   Moments later they were deep into the cavern, breathing too heavily to go on any further.

"I hope," Dixie huffed, "That Samurai will be okay."

Ash nodded, echoing the sentiment.  Samurai was a formidable warrior, but this newcomer, Omega, threw a lot of unknowns into the mix.  Taking a moment, he analyzed their surroundings, suddenly wishing that he hadn’t left Dexter with Brock and Misty.   He could have used the Pokédex’s sensors to help him figure out exactly what it was he was looking for.  "Pikachu," he looked down at his Pokémon, "Do you-"

A beeping cut him off abruptly, emanating from Dixie’s backpack.  She traded glances with her boyfriend before reaching around, unzipping the pack and drawing a small, metallic device out.  Frowning, she strapped the insistent Itemfinder around her head, adjusting the lens to fit comfortably over her eye.   Her eyes wandered around the room for a moment, following the electronic guide’s directions.  "Ash," she spoke softly with a frog in her throat, "It’s here."

"What?"

"It’s here!" she insisted to him, still searching through the Itemfinder’s lens.  "The last Hidden Machine, it’s here in this cave!"  She began to walk about, playing a game of hot and cold that was unseen to Ash and Pikachu.  

Ash rubbed the bridge of his nose, cursing lady luck’s sick sense of irony.  "You have to be kidding me," he muttered.  While he was overjoyed that Dixie’s collection of her grandfather’s work was to be completed, it couldn’t possibly have come at a worse time.   He felt the darkness stirring within the cave once more, this time coming from below.  Ash knew that Dixie wouldn’t be swayed from finding the HM, so he said, "Look, why don’t you keep looking for it here.  I’ll go downstairs, and-"

Click.

"You aren’t going anywhere, boy."

Ash whirled in place just in time to see a pair of ominous black suits lowering the barrels of a pair of Glock Nine pistols directly in line with their foreheads.  Pikachu snarled, rushing forward, but the taller, fair-skinned gunman pulled a second weapon, halting the Pokémon in its tracks.   Dixie was frozen with fear, ignoring the incessant beeping of her Itemfinder.  Though she was afraid, she somehow kept a defiant tone in her voice.  "Shades.  Spike." She acknowledged the corporate mercenaries with a curt nod.  "It’s been a while."

"Ms. Mason." Shades nodded to her with a small smile.  Despite the poor lighting in the cavern, he still wore his omnipresent sunglasses that were his namesake.  "I take it by the sound of that device," he waved to the Itemfinder with his gun, "That you’ve detected the fifth technique machine, yes?"

"Y’all will never get ‘em." Dixie swore solemnly, glaring at the two with as much hatred as she could muster.  "My grandfather will rest in peace, and you two will rot in jail for the rest of your miserable lives."

"A cute sentiment." Shades allowed.  He stepped forward, moving in close.  Spike followed his lead, keeping his guns trained on Ash and his Pokémon.  From the looks of the larger merc, he had every intention of making sure that Dixie and her little friends weren’t around to make good on her promise.   "Now," Shades continued, "If you would please continue."

Dixie silently resumed her search, stepping forward carefully.  Ash tried to move to join her, but Spike gestured menacingly with his gun, shaking his head.  With a growl to his captor, Ash watched as Dixie stepped slowly around the collected equipment and piles of useless rock the miners had collected.   The emptiness off the mine left a chill down the teens’ spines, and did little to calm the jumpy nerves and trigger fingers of the two soldiers for hire.

Fifteen minutes of searching later, Dixie bent down in front of a smooth rock face, running her palm across the gritty surface of the cut stone.  She turned away from the wall, looking back with disdain at Shades.  "It’s here."

"There’s nothing there," he countered, leaning over her shoulder.  His gun remained pointed at her head, but his eyes scanned the flawless surface of the rock.  His free hand brushed against the sediments, coming away with nothing more than a fine coat of dust.   His empty glasses turned on her, trying to pierce her bravado angrily.  "What is this," he demanded, "Some kind of trick?"

"Shut up and hand me a pickaxe." She informed him shortly, standing up and brushing her hands off.  When he didn’t move, she walked a few steps to her left, ignoring his gun and retrieving the proper tool from where it leaned against the wall.   "Fine." She sneered sweetly, "I’ll do it."  With a grunt, she swung at the wall.  A sharp crack echoed across the empty space as her pickaxe made contact with the wall, chipping away at the rock with each swing.  She continued working at it, wiping away the sweat that dripped down her forehead and collected on the Itemfinder’s lens.

After a few swings, the pitch of her axe’s strike changed pitch.  She dropped the pickaxe excitedly, disregarding Spike and Shades entirely as she dug into the soft rock with her fingertips.  The sedimentary deposits crumbled away, revealing the edges of a small, snow-white box poking out of her hole.   The sharp edges of the rock cut into her fingers, making them slick with blood, but she worked as a woman possessed until the box was out of the wall.

She placed the box in her lap, fumbling eagerly at the latch until it swung open, allowing her access to the box.  The interior was lined with soft foam, protecting the single, tiny chip that shone inside like a beacon.  The glossy, plastic and metal chip had a tiny 05 printed on its label, along with a small sunburst symbol beneath the numbers.   This was the fifth chip…the last chip.

Shades grunted, peering over her shoulder again.  "That’s it, huh?" he remarked, "I thought it would be bigger."

Spike’s face twitched nervously as he stood several yards back, still guarding Ash and Pikachu.  "Can we move this along a little?" he grumbled loudly so that his partner could hear him.  "I’d like to get out of here and collect our fee sometime this century, Shades."

"Hold on, Mr. Spike." Shades reached down, picking up the chip between two delicate fingers.  He examined the chip, turning it over and over, ignoring Dixie’s growing rage at his manhandling of her grandfather’s last, greatest work.  After a moment, he tossed it to her.   "We need to test it.  Make sure it’s the real thing."  His gaze meandered back over to Ash and Pikachu.  Lifting his gun to point to Ash’s only active Pokémon, he added, "On that one."

Dixie wordlessly pulled the HM Accelerator from her backpack, plugging the 05 chip into it and reading the data that poured rapidly over the screen.  "This chip teaches the technique ‘Flash’ to certain Pokémon," she summarized out loud.  Scanning the list of acceptable Pokémon, she nodded.   "Pikachu’s compatible with this one."

"What do you say, buddy?" Ash asked his partner, not really sure whether or not Pikachu would really get a choice as they stared down the barrel of the gun.

"Pika."  Pikachu nodded once, stepping forward slowly.  His glare met with Spike’s for a moment before he scampered up to Dixie.  Dixie ran the Accelerator’s warm-up procedure, separating it into its component halves.  She placed them gently around his head, touching the leads to Pikachu’s temples.   With a brilliant flash of light the machine came to life, charging Pikachu’s neurons, bombarding them with intense information, teaching the Pokémon’s cells new tricks, new secrets that the gods themselves had never intended, but that man now demanded of them.

The procedure completed itself with a soft beeping as the light faded.  Dixie withdrew the halves from Pikachu’s head, sliding them back together and looking down at the Pokémon with bated breath.  "Okay, Pikachu," she nodded to the mouse, "Give it a try.   Flash."

Pikachu concentrated for a moment, drawing in on its inner energies.  Sparks flew from its cheeks for a moment and electricity leapt from its sacs, arcing across its skin in short, random bursts.  The humans around it watched, anticipating, waiting for…

Nothing.

"What’s the deal?" Spike demanded, waving his guns around wildly.  He had half a mind to just shoot the rat now, shoot the kids, and take the four functioning chips.  "Where’s the flash?  Are you screwing with us, little girl?"

"I-I don’t know." Dixie pulled the chip from the Accelerator, looking at the various contact points to its internal circuitry.  "Everything was fine!  It should have worked!"  She looked down at Pikachu.  "Are you sure you-"

"Pika!" Pikachu insisted, waving its tiny arms.  She didn’t need to speak Pikachu to know that it had tried its best.

Shades shook his head, sighing.  "Well," he lamented, "It’s a terrible shame, really.  I suppose we can still bring them the four operational chips for most of our fee." He commented to Spike offhandedly.

"Don’t forget the bonus fee." Spike grinned, eyeing Ash as if he were a piece of meat.  He was already placing his shots mentally into Ash, wondering if it would be more satisfying to put a bullet into Ash’s heart, or Ash’s head.  "That’s a pretty good chunk of cash," he grinned sadistically, "Even after we subtract the cost of the bullets."

The innuendo wasn’t lost on either one of the teens.  Ash’s mind raced, thinking of a way for them to somehow make it through this.  There was a small metal elevator a little more than thirty feet from where they stood, presumably giving them access to the lower levels of the mine.   The dark emanations lurking in the back recesses of Ash’s mind still told him that whatever it was he was here to find, it was below them, and Omega was presumably still fighting Samurai outside of the cave, so the only place they could go was down.

"Sounds like you guys have everything planned out," Ash admitted.  "Well, almost, anyway."

Shades rolled his eyes, a gesture unseen by any of the others in the mine.  "Oh, please," he snickered, striding forward to face Ash directly.  Spike’s other gun drifted back to Dixie, covering his partner’s absence.  "Do you honestly think you’re going to outwit us somehow with a feeble, pathetic trick?"

Ash nodded glumly.  "No," he admitted.  Then he brightened, looking past Shade’s shoulder, back towards the mine’s entrance.  "But he might."

Shades and Spike spun in place, their weapons ready with triggers a mere ounce of pressure away from discharging.  With steely eyes, they gazed into the dim light filtering in from the outside world, mixing poorly with the soft amber electrical lighting.   However, in spite of their lightning reflexes and sharp, deadly eyes, they could spot nothing, save for an ill wind blowing in through the mouth of the cave.

"What’re you-" Spike turned, then flew into a rage as he spotted Ash, Dixie and Pikachu making a mad dash for the elevator.  He fired wildly, blinded by his own anger and missing badly.  Still, his shots did serve to spur on the teens’ wild escape.   Ash shoved Dixie in, pushing Pikachu with his foot until all three were inside the elevator.  Slamming the heavy metal grate closed, he kicked the lever down.  The elevator dropped like a stone, vanishing from sight before either mercenary could reach the spot.

"Well," Shades rubbed the bridge of his nose, holstering his weapon with a sigh.  "This is certainly an inconvenience-"

Spike screamed incoherently, emptying his clip down into the inky black depths that the teens had disappeared into.  His cry grew louder with every shot until at last his gun clicked uselessly, emptied of its rounds.  His rage likewise spent, Spike’s shoulders fell and his gun clattered to the ground.   "I can’t believe it." He grabbed his head, tugging at his long, jagged locks.  "I can’t believe it!  He did it again!"

"I know."

"He DID IT AGAIN!" Spike screamed again, punching the stone wall.  His enormous knuckles cracked against the solid rock face, actually tearing a small chunk out of place.  "I swear," he promised Shades, "Next time, there won’t be any tricks.   No courtesy crap, no talking.  Just BLAM!"

Shades considered the shaft, spying a series of electrical cables trailing down the back of the elevator’s pathway and snaking into the darkness.  If things went well, they wouldn’t have to go in and chase after the kids.  They could make the kids come to them.   "Spike, old friend," he rubbed his jaw, "I’m beginning to think you may be right."
* * *

"That was too close." Dixie huffed as Ash opened the control panel of the elevator.  He reached in, ripping out a handful of wiring and flinching away from the sparks that the machine spat at him in retaliation.  "We really should stop running into those guys, huh?" she chuckled breathlessly.

Ash was well beyond the mood for humor, dark or otherwise.  He looked around their new surroundings, noticing a set of lights arranged in parallel lines.  A glance was all he and Pikachu needed with each other before they were walking in that direction, out into the large, open cavern.   The strange place put a trance over him, calling to him as it had before.  "This is where we’re supposed to be…" he murmured, gazing about at the chamber.  "This is the place-"

A low, rumbling growl echoed across the cavern, shaking the very foundation they walked on.  Loose rock fell from the ceiling, raining down upon the teens and their Pokémon protector.  "What was that?" Dixie quaked, shielding her face from the pebble precipitation.   "An Onix?"

"Onix aren’t native to this part of the world…" Ash said ominously.  Whatever had been setting his soul on ice before was going bonkers at the moment, warning him of some unseen danger.  "Come on, let’s move!"  He pulled a flashlight from his backpack, jogging forward between the lights as Dixie dug for her own light.   "This doesn’t look like they were digging for coal in here.  It almost looks like some kind of archeological dig."

"In a coal mine?" Dixie intoned incredulously as her own flashlight pierced the low lighting of the cavern.  Dark shapes in her imagination danced at the shadows’ edge, scaring the daylights out of her without ever coming near.  "What would they be-"

"That."

She looked in the direction of his pointed finger, spying a chamber about twenty yards in front of them at the end of a long, dark tunnel.  It too was lit with electric lamps, beckoning to them from the bright point sitting amidst the darkness.   The two teens walked towards the light, with Pikachu trailing after them slowly.  Their Pokémon ally shivered as they approached the strange chamber, as if something lurked within, something familiar, yet not.

They reached the mouth of the chamber, stepping in carefully.  Ash had Charizard’s Pokéball in hand, ready to unleash the fiery dragon on whatever was waiting for them.  Luckily, the place seemed empty at a first glance as he entered.  He replaced the Pokéball, raising his flashlight and swinging it around the enormous room, examining their surroundings.   The entire place held him spellbound.  His breath came in short, shallow draws as his eyes wandered about the place.  It felt as though he knew this place from somewhere…

Dixie’s approach was enough to break him from his trance and scare the bejesus out of him.  "Sorry," she placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly after he had jumped out of his skin with a yelp.  "What is this place?"

Ash’s eyes shifted to one side, falling on the plug that the miners had removed intact for later study.  Curious, he moved to stand in front of it.  Pikachu followed close, questioning him with a series of "Pika"s.  The script on the panel was written in the ancient language of the Pokémopolitans; Ash recognized them from the handful of times he had seen relics of Pokémopolis in his life.   The language was an archeologist’s nightmare, composed of confusing symbols organized in an even more confusing syntax.  On a good day, it could take weeks to translate a single paragraph.

For Ash, it was a matter of seconds.  His eyes scanned over the text, taking in the information that the ancients had chosen to bestow upon their readers in mere seconds.  Though his ability to read the Pokémopolitese still amazed him, he wasn’t surprised; the same occurrence had happened back in the caves of Mount Moon.

"Woe upon thee," Ash muttered aloud the mysterious manuscript as fast as his brain could comprehend them, "To those who breach the prison of the exile."  He glanced back into the middle of the cavern, fearing the worst; sure enough, there was a small black pedestal resting comfortably upon a central raised platform.   A tiny obsidian orb glinted in the electrical light, mocking him scornfully from afar.  It, as well as the pedestal, was covered in a thin layer of oozing red liquid.  The smell of blood permeated the room so strongly that it assaulted his senses even at that distance.

"What was that?" Dixie asked.  She stood next to Pikachu and joined it in looking up with befuddlement at the intelligible text.  "You can read this?"

"Demon of the earth, the exile will bring doom to all who rest in its path." He finished the line, feeling a shiver of fear run up his spine.  "Yeah…" Ash answered her question in a low, hoarse voice, "I guess I still can…"  He continued:

A thousandfold have fallen

To the might of the exile

Who strikes from blackness itself

But beware his wrath

In the shelter of light

For the human spirit

Can set him free

Of his prison of shadow

"What’s "the exile" you were talking about?" she whispered back, suddenly afraid to speak aloud.  Even Pikachu had stopped muttering, and was instead glancing around the shadows of the room, as if expecting an attack at any moment.  "Ash, what does this all mean?"

Before Ash could answer her, the electric lights that kept the cavern bathed in pale light flickered, faltered, and then failed completely.  The cave was plunged into a cloak of pure obsidian, save for the miniscule flashlights that the two teens held.   Both beams of light began to shake and shiver as they quaked with fear.

"What happened?" Ash swung his beam around, examining one of the lights.

Dixie didn’t have to guess.  "Shades and Spike.  They must have cut the power to the lights."  She looked down at her flashlight in horror as the beam began to fade.  "My flashlight!" she cried, "I must have forgotten to change the batteries."

Ash checked his own light.  "Mine won’t last more than an hour, too."  He swallowed, looking around.  "They’re trying to flush us out.  They’ll wait until we have to come back up, and then…" he let his voice trail off, unable to finish the thought.

From deep within the oppressive darkness came a low, rolling rumble, as though a boulder was tumbling down the jagged cliffs of the mountain.  Dixie couldn’t be certain, but her eyes seemed to catch a flash of red out of the corner of her eyes that disappeared before she could locate it.   The rumbling came again, deep and slow, the sound of rock grinding on rock.

*Zyyyyyylllllllllllllllllll*

"W…wha…" Dixie shivered, swinging her flashlight back and forth.  "What was that?"

Ash did the same, searching through the black void for the source of the rumbling.  Pikachu’s cheeks threw sparks, trying to push the darkness back to no avail.  "It’s afraid of the darkness." Ash told her, gripping his flashlight as though it were a weapon.   "It can’t come at us as long as we have our lights on."

Dixie looked at him, using her rapidly waning light to set her own features aglow.  "So what happens when they run out, Ash?"  Tears began welling up in her eyes, pouring down her cheeks as she heard another rumbling.  "What happens then, Ash?   What’s going on?  What is this thing?"

Pushing his fear deep down into himself, locking it away with a deep sigh, he sat down on the ground.  Pikachu leapt into his lap as Dixie sat next to him, intent on protecting both of its friends.  "Dixie," he began uncertainly, "It’s a long story…"
* * *

"Mr. Ketchum, perhaps you would like to describe the events of last August."  

Misty’s eyes swished back and forth as Lorelei paced the floor, looking down at Gary’s black folder.  She had taken over for Gary as prosecutor nearly an hour ago, tiring of watching ‘Ash’ squirm up on the stand.  Misty’s aquatic ex-heroine stopped unexpectedly, slapping the folder against her bare thigh below the hem of her short business skirt.   Her blue eyes flashed behind her round frames as she checked her folder before adding, "The week of the fourteenth, if you wouldn’t mind?"

Leaning forward, Misty clasped her hands together.  She knew exactly what week Lorelei was referring to, but she wasn’t sure where the question was going to lead.  "That was the week of last year’s Indigo Games."

"That’s right.  And could you describe the events of-"

"Objection!" Dexter screamed from the defense table.  "This has nothing to do with the case at hand!"

"Sustained." Evans looked down at Lorelei with annoyance.  "Prosecutor, please come to the point."

"Very well."  Lorelei reached into her magic folder, pulling out several photos and handing them to the judge.  Misty received her own copies as well.  The pictures showed the scene played over one year ago in Indigo Stadium, in which Ash had defied the council’s tradition and had instead given Gary his own Master’s badge.   "At last year’s games, Mr. Ketchum comported himself in a manner most shameful to the league.  He destroyed the Master badge specifically designed and produced for the occasion, embarrassing himself and the league as a whole."  Lorelei flashed a look of pure disgust in ‘Ash’s’ direction for just a moment before continuing.   "Once again, he proved himself a disgrace to the league and an embarrassment to the position of League Champion."

"Once again?" Evans asked, straightening his spectacles as he examined the pictures.  "I’ll ask you to clarify that point, young lady."  Misty breathed a silent prayer of thanks for the judge; he was as hard, cold and unforgiving as polished marble, but at least he was impartial.

"Of course."  Though Lorelei was addressing Judge Evans, her eyes never left the witness box for a single instant.  "Mr. Ketchum held the position of League Champion for a total of four years."  Her hands found their way to the edge of the booth as she leaned over, glaring at Misty with mere inches between them.   In that time, he did very little, if anything, for the position."

"Objection!" Dexter shouted from their table.  Brock rose to bring their defense closer to the plate, but there was no stopping the Elite trainer.

"He ran about the island, bringing nothing but trouble to whomever or whatever city he came across."  Turning away, she began to pace furiously, waving her arms with each new point.  "He took no active role in the policy-making process in the League.   As a matter of fact, he took no part in the League, save for the yearly competition!"

Misty could feel the bile rising in his throat.  Red seeped into her features and climbed in to her vision as she shifted in her seat, leaning forward with a dangerous look on her face.  She clamped her hands onto either side of her chair, pinning her fists where they wouldn’t do any harm.   "I don’t think-"

"The truth is, your honor," Lorelei’s voice rose above Dexter’s objections and Misty’s indignation even as Evans’ gavel pounded on his bench for order.  "Ashlan Ketchum cared nothing for the League, only for the title and the prestige.  He cared only for himself, for his own ego."

Hatred blazed in Lorelei’s eyes, and through Misty’s own blazing anger, she felt an epiphany coming.  ‘That’s why she hates him so much…’  Her mind felt detached from her body as she rose to her feet, unable to keep her seat any longer.  

       "You think Ash needs to take a more active role in the piddly-crap bureaucracy that you get your ya-ya’s from, you egotistical little witch?"

       The words had escaped Misty’s lips before she even thought of them, cutting Lorelei off right at the knees.  Indeed, the entire courtroom had been silenced, including Evans, who was growing livid at the audacity of the chaos that the teenagers had brought to his domain.   Finally, Lorelei recovered, strutting purposefully towards Misty with a dangerous spark in her eyes.  "Referring to yourself in the third person now, Ash?" she spat.

       Teeth bared, Misty barely held herself back, holding on to that last thread of self-control.  ‘You’re doing this for Ash,’ she reminded herself over and over again.  ‘Right now, you ‘are’ Ash.’  Out loud, she said, "You couldn’t stand some little upstart coming in and showing you up," she snarled with a touch of smugness.   "When I got to the League, the Elite Four was all but undefeated.  Now, they’re whomped on by teenagers every year, and you just can’t stand it."

       "You waltzed into ‘my’ league and pretended like none of it mattered, you little brat!" she screamed.  The bailiff moved to restrain her, but moved away when he saw the look she gave him.  He was smarter than to try and mess with the prima donna during her rant.   "You’re nothing but a lucky, pint-sized little squirt who was never worth the meat that moves the pathetic waste of fat you call a brain!"

       Misty had abandoned all pretenses.  She tossed the unfamiliar dark hair out of her unnatural brown eyes, tucking them beneath the cap that wasn’t hers.  "Don’t you dare-"

       "You don’t deserve to train even one Pokémon, you whelp!" Lorelei countered once more.  "I’ll see to it that you never harm another Pokémon again if it’s the last thing I do-"

       That was the last straw for Misty Waterflower.  She could handle Lorelei’s pride and ego, but when she insulted Ash’s abilities and integrity as a trainer…  Something within her snapped, breaking the thin barrier that held her titanic temper in check.   With an incoherent cry, she leapt over the witness box and tackled Lorelei to the floor.  The two women began screeching and clawing at each other, with Lorelei at a severe disadvantage; after all, from her perspective, it was Ash Ketchum attacking her, and Ash Ketchum had never done anything like that!

       "ORDER!" Evans bellowed, slamming his gavel onto the scratched wood.  He looked furiously to the bailiff, but the large, burly officer had adopted more of an observatory role for fear of losing a limb in the scuffle.   By this time Lorelei had adapted to the fact that her witness was trying to kill her.  There was clawing, hair-pulling, punching, kicking, and screaming at the top of their lungs.  In the ensuing chaos, the vocal remodulator that rested upon Misty’s neck was knocked clear across the room, landing in a pitcher of water with a soft fizzling noise.

       "You little monster!" Lorelei screamed, ripping her mortal enemy’s jacket apart with her bare hands.  "I’ll tear out your-" Her hand fell upon something soft, round, and unexpected, eliciting a feminine squeak from her supposedly masculine witness.   The fight froze in mid-punch as Misty’s fist hovered inches from Lorelei’s already-bleeding lips.  Before the Mistress of Water could stop her, Lorelei had ripped her jacket clean from her shoulders, exposing a figure that was far from manly.

       "What in the…" the diva’s hands shook, dropping the shreds of cloth.  Her eyes probed into Misty’s face, searching and examining until a look of recognition crossed her countenance.  "Waterflower!" she screeched.

       "What is going on here?" Evans boomed.  He actually descended from his bench, forcibly separating the two women.  The years had been kind to Misty, developing her body into a distinctly feminine sculpt that the salted judge couldn’t help but notice.   He helped her up, keeping a hand on Misty’s shoulder.  "Who are you?  Where’s the defendant?" he demanded.

       "Uh," Dexter began lamely, "My client has nothing to say at this time, your honor."

       Misty looked to Brock, who could only shrug.  There was an understanding look on his chiseled features, but that didn’t quell the sinking feeling in her stomach.  They hadn’t made a contingency plan for if their cover had been blown, which, in retrospect, was a very bad idea.   Because Misty had blown it, and blown it big time.
       * * *

       Omega clutched the small wound he had received from Samurai’s stinging blade, wrapping his fingers around his forearm to try and quell the bleeding.  Looking down at his defeated foe, he gave the boy a curt nod.  "I have to admit," Omega told him, "You made me actually try in a couple spots there."

       Samurai was laid out on his back, well beyond hearing the assassin’s backhanded compliments.  His armor hung in ruins from his bruised, beaten body.  Nearby, the pieces of his sword were half-buried in the soft, unforgiving snow, tainted in blood and beyond repair.   The warrior himself was drifting between unconsciousness and reality, bleeding from various broken bones and a mild concussion.  He had given the battle his all and had come up woefully short.  His Pokémon were decked out nearby, knocked out earlier in the fight and completely insensate.

       The victor reached down, tearing a piece of the gi Samurai wore beneath his armor off and tying it around his wound before he began making his way down the valley.  He could hear the boy gathering himself behind him, standing upon unsteady legs to flee the scene, but Omega paid him no mind.   Even if he did summon help, it would come too late to save his friend.

       He entered the cave slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the artificial night of the cavern’s interior.  Reaching into his jumpsuit he pulled a sidearm from its holster, chambering a round with the familiar *ka-chak!* that always brought him a measure of comfort.   His steps echoed back and forth across the cavern as he plunged further into its depths.  The smell of coal and dust was overpowering, but his years of experience let him push all extraneous details aside.  So when two figures tried to get the drop on him by hiding in the shadows, he wasn’t fooled.

       "Who are you?" a deep male voice boomed from his right, trying to hide itself by using the natural echo the mine produced.  "What are you doing here?"

       It wasn’t the voice of either teen he had pursued into the mine.  Omega had familiarized himself with the details of his teammates’ previous missions, and recognized the voice immediately.  "Mr. Shades, I presume."

       "Shut up." Another voice growled, this one off to his left.  He heard another *ka-chak* and knew instantly that a Glock was pointed directly at his head.  "You’ve got five seconds to answer the question."

       "Omega of Team Rocket." Omega said easily.  With lightning reflexes, he pulled another gun, leveling both of them to either side so that he could pick off either mercenary in an instant.  With their cover blown, both men stepped from the shadows, moving into the pale light with their guns raised as well.

       "What are you doing here?" Shades asked him casually, straightening his sunglasses.

       Omega couldn’t help but smirk.  "Something similar to yourselves, I would imagine."  He was irritated at the inconvenience those two represented, and still furious at the outcome of Psi’s mission thanks to them.   However, another running battle would only delay him further.  Besides, he could possibly use them to his advantage.

       "You here to collect the new TMs?" Spike snarled.  His hand quivered, not out of fear, but anticipation.

       "TMs?" Omega shook his head.  "I don’t have any interest in paltry technology.  My only concern is that there’s one less teenager breathing by tomorrow."

       Shades considered this for a moment.  He knew that they couldn’t trust the Rocket for an instant, but he also knew that if he started sniffing around, he might ruin the plan, or even damage the technique machines.  "Perhaps we could help each other…"

       "Interesting proposal." The assassin allowed.  "Where are the children?"

       Shades’ free finger pointed down to the ground.  "They’re in the level below us.  Some sort of ruins, I think.  We have them trapped, and we’ve cut the power.  It’s only a matter of time before they come back up."

       "We can’t just sit around waiting." Omega countered coolly.  "We should go down there and finish the job."

       "Wouldn’t recommend it." Spike interjected.  "Some kinda creepy animal down there…real spooky.  Think it ate a couple of the miners."

       Omega thought about this new piece of information.  He raised his wrist communicator to his lips, activating the link he held with his three assistants.  "Jessie.  James.  Meowth."

       "Guh…wuz?" Meowth’s static-filled voice was groggy and slow, as if he had just woken up from a nap.  "Who’s there?"

       "Prepare the special package for delivery." He ordered, cutting off any further chatter.  "Home in on my signal.  And for the love of God, be discreet about it."

       Shades and Spike merely exchanged looks.  "Special package?"
       * * *

       Ash squatted in the middle of the cavern, rocking back and forth on his heels as he considered the demon ball.  He had set his light upright to shine on the ceiling, acting as a makeshift lantern for the unlucky trio.   Dixie’s light had long since burnt out, and Ash’s was growing slightly dimmer with each passing moment.  Pikachu considered the lantern, wondering if it could possibly juice up the batteries without frying the light.  They had tried it before, though, in similar situations, and the only thing it had done was to make the batteries explode.   Apparently, non-rechargeable really meant ‘non’-rechargeable.

       Dixie paced the floor, never straying far from the light just as Ash had said.  Her panic had been suppressed, leaving her with nothing but good old-fashioned fear.  "I can’t believe it’s going to end like this." She muttered over and over again, fingering her sunburst locket nervously.   "Munched by some stupid monster in the middle of nowhere…"

       "We’ll make it out somehow." Ash assured her, believing his words about as much as she did.  He leaned back, falling on his butt and spreading his aching legs.  His fingers found a few loose rocks, which he tossed into the inky blackness out of boredom.   The truth was, he had no idea how they were going to get out of this.  Whatever this "exile" that the Pokémopolitans had banished to the mountains of Alaska was, it was simply biding its time.  The light was pale and pathetic, but for some reason still caused the beast discomfort; he had heard it snarl when he had swung the beam about the place, hunting for their hunter.   Every now and then they could hear it, rumbling somewhere beyond the edge of the light.

       Dixie whirled on him, her pent-up frustration and fear suddenly pouring out in one violent burst.  "Shut up!" she screeched.  "I’m not talking to you!"

       Even Pikachu, their own little warrior, was taken aback by the ferocity of her words.  Ash understood the outburst, even if he did feel a little miffed at being her scapegoat.  "Okay." He allowed slowly.  "Sorry."

       But it didn’t stop there; Dixie was on a roll.  Throwing her hands up, she gestured to the enormous tablet by the useless exit to the cave.  "Ash, why didn’t you tell me any of this?  Why didn’t you tell me about this ridiculous demon business?"

       Ash hesitated; he had told her about encountering Missingno in the caves of Mount Moon, but had kept silent about his visions of the legendary Pokégoddess.  Deciding that the partial truth made the best answer, he said, "Would you have believed me?"

       The statement cut her off at the knees, and she knew it.  "I would now." She agreed bitterly, plopping down next to him.  With nothing better to do in the scant time they had left, she pulled out the HM Accelerator and extracted the last Hidden Machine from its port.   "Hhhnnn," she sighed, examining the chip.  Unable to do anything about its uselessness, she tossed it aside.

       Ash kept his voice neutral, trying not to breed too much false hope.  "Any chance of fixing it?" he asked.

       She shook her head.  "I wouldn’t know where to begin.  It might have been damaged when it was placed into the wall, or it could just be a design flaw.  Prototypes are always tough to deal with."  Her fingers found their way back to the sunburst locket around her neck.   With a sad smile, she recalled the farewell message that the old scientist had left her before his untimely murder.  "It’s funny…" she commented offhandedly, "When Grampa gave this locket to me, he told me it was a light to guide my way.  Now, here in the dark, a light’s exactly what I need."   She undid the clasp, pulling it from her throat and considering it in the palm of her hand.  "Only now it’s useless to me." She lamented wistfully.

       The rusted gears in Ash’s mind began inadvertently whirring and clicking.  He thought back to all the times when Professor Oak had spoken in riddles to him, letting them mull at the back of the boy’s mind until he figured them out just in time to save his own butt or someone else’s.   The old man never spoke plainly, but instead planted the idea and let it develop on its own for Ash to discover when the time was right.  Looking down at the locket, Ash asked, "That locket…when did you say your grandfather gave it to you?"

       "Let me think." Dixie scratched her noggin.  "It was right after he finished the prototypes.  He was just heading out to make sure they were safe, ‘cause he knew Americorp was after them.  It was right before he…"

       "Dixie," Ash had to restrain himself from simply snatching the locket away.  "Can I see it?"  She nodded, handing it over to his eager hands.  He immediately ran his fingernail around the circumference of the accessory, searching for something-anything-that he could think of.   Pikachu and Dixie watched on with silent confusion until at last Ash cried out in triumph.  He grabbed a small, pointy pebble and began digging into the edge of the locket, scratching its delicate surface as he did so.

       "Hey!" Dixie cried out until the locket snapped in two, swinging open on a hidden hinge.  Ash could barely contain his excitement as he revealed a small black dot within the hidden compartment of the locket, a tiny, secret microchip of mystery.   Wondering if she dared hope it, Dixie grabbed at the discarded HM, pulling away the circuitry casing to peer at the myriad of technology within.  Sure enough, there was a tiny flat empty space, sized just right for the circular microchip.  She looked up at Ash, dumbfounded and astonished.   "H-how’d you know?"

       "These scientist types," Ash shrugged with a grin, "They always like to leave a card up their sleeves.  Your grandfather probably thought it would be safer with you, especially if you didn’t even know you had it."

       Dixie shook the tiny microchip from the locket with shaking hands, dropping it into the palm of her hand.  She could barely contain her excitement as she plugged the tiny chip into its place, comforted by the tiny click as it snapped into its slot.   Closing the HM’s case, she placed it back into the Accelerator, flicking the machine’s power switch with her thumb.  "Okay…we just need to test it, now."

       "Pi!" Pikachu bounded up, standing in front of her expectantly.  Dixie glanced over at Ash, who merely nodded.  Taking a deep breath, she separated its component halves and placed it on either side of Pikachu’s tiny head.   The soft light of Ash’s waning flashlight was drown out by the white radiance released by the Accelerator as Pikachu’s mind was bombarded by countless gigabytes of information.  The surge of power caused the tiny mouse’s eyes to glow white.  Pikachu strained at first, clenching its tiny fists as if it were fighting the new ability.

       In the end, though, the fight proved too much, and Pikachu accepted the gift.  The Accelerator’s process wound down and its light faded, leaving them in the relative blackness of the flashlight.  Pikachu’s tiny black eyes blinked slowly as it shook itself out of its stupor.

       Ash watched with anticipation as Dixie folded the Accelerator back together and placed it in her pack.  "Did it work?" he asked hesitantly.

       "Let’s find out." She took another deep breath, looking down at the Electric type.  "Okay Pikachu," she nodded to him, "Flash."

       Pikachu’s cheeks began to glow with home-brewed thunder.  The power began spreading all across its body, arcing across its bristling fur in focused packets of lightning.  The energy soaked into Pikachu’s fur like water into a sponge and disappeared all at once.   For a split second they were left in total darkness.

       A soft golden light began eating away at the dark, radiating from Pikachu’s charged fur and bathing Ash and Dixie in an amber glow.  Pikachu rose upon its hind legs, its eyes glowing white with new power as the brightness increased.   The light spread to every nook and cranny as though it had a life and mind of its own.  The cavern became completely visible as quickly as the eye could follow.

       Ash looked down at his Pikachu, who had become a being of pure light.  Though the cavernous chamber was as bright as daylight, he could still look upon the Pokémon without undue discomfort.  "Pikachu?"  The tiny, living light bulb gave him a claws-up, though he was hard-pressed to see it.

       "This is incredible…" Dixie reached out hesitantly, stroking Pikachu’s fur.  "There’s no temperature increase or anything.  This is incredible!" She kept repeating it, jumping up and down.  A sudden rumbling shook the cavern, knocking stalactites from the ceiling.   One nearly split Ash from skull to toes, scaring the bejesus out of him and tearing his backpack apart.  "What’s going on?" Dixie stuttered against the ground’s quaking.

       An echoing snarl was her answer as the living earthquake traveled through the ceiling.  Ash looked up, catching a glimpse of flashing red eyes before they disappeared into the rock.  "It’s the monster!" Ash shouted, shielding his head.   "C’mon, we have to get out of here!"  He began running back towards the exit.

       "What about Spike and Shades?" Dixie yelled, joining Pikachu’s chase of its trainer.  "We can’t just-"

       Another rumbling knocked several tons of rock onto the floor behind them, spurring on their escape.  "Trust me," Ash yelled back, "Anything they do to us is ten times better than staying here!"
       * * *

       Misty kicked off the large, uncomfortable loafers, cooling her heels in the cell that she and Brock had been placed in.  It seemed that perjury and fraud were serious crimes in any legal system, and the courthouse had more than adequate facilities for taking care of those guilty of such crimes.   She loosened the tatters of Ash’s suit, leaning back against the cold cement that comprised three-fourths of their cell as she sat atop one of the two wooden planks that served as bunks.

       "I wonder how Ash is doing…" Brock’s ceaseless pacing was beginning to drive her nuts, but he didn’t seem to notice.  He had shucked his own suit coat, letting it lay uselessly on his bunk as he walked the length of their cell next to the bars.   "Hope he’s all right."

       Part of Misty agreed, but another, more selfish part hoped that he was having problems much worse than their own.  That way, when he came back and found out that she had blown their little scheme, he wouldn’t be as angry.   ‘Why am I worried about what he thinks, anyway?’ she thought to herself.  ‘He’s the one that came up with this stupid plan!’  But like so many other times, Misty’s head and heart just couldn’t come to an agreement.

       The sound of a door halted Brock in his tracks, echoing from down the long row of empty cells.  Footsteps followed as the door closed, coming closer, unseen but not unheard.  He exchanged a curious glance with Misty, but she merely shrugged, conveying her own confusion.   After Evans had read them the riot act and thrown the book at them, she didn’t think they were going to let the two of them out until their bones had been picked clean by rats in the distant future.  However, the new arrival brought Brock and Misty little comfort…

       "Oak!" Misty spat, leaping from her seat and slamming against the segmented door in a fit of rage.  Gary, standing only thanks to the safety of the cell, was wearing his favorite blue long-sleeve with his lucky pendant and blue jeans, Pokéballs strapped to his waist and hands on his hips.   The metal rang out against her palms as she pressed her snarling face against the space in the bars.  "You rotten little-"

He bent down, examining the lock.  "Just shut up for a few seconds and let me think, will you?" he retorted, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a pair of small metal slivers.  He jammed them into the archaic lock, jiggling them around with a series of clicks.   "Ash needs help, and I can’t do this on my own."

"What?" It was Brock’s turn to move forward, forgetting his disgust momentarily.  "You heard from Ash?"

"No," Gary grunted, concentrating on the job at hand, "That dippy swordsman of yours called about fifteen minutes ago.  I had to make a side trip to grab your gear and Pokémon.  They’re waiting outside, along with the Pokégear and that obnoxious Pokédex of yours.   They’re waiting outside in my pack…ah!" he cried out with success, pulling the picks back and swinging the door open.  "C’mon, there isn’t much time."

"What’s the-" Brock stepped forward, ready to go out the door to freedom when Misty stopped him with an outstretched arm.  "Huh?"

"We aren’t going anywhere until I get some answers!" Misty declared.  She grabbed the cell door and slammed it shut with a clang of defiance.  "Why are you helping us?"

"What are you, crazy?" Gary demanded.  He grabbed the door and swung it open again, jabbing a finger for them to get out.  "Let’s go!  Samurai said something about-"

"No!" Misty reached out, snagging the bars and tugging it closed again.  "Why are you helping us?  What’s in this for you?"

"I think Gary’s right, you are crazy!" Brock tried to push the door open, but Misty’s rage-fueled strength proved too much to overcome.  "Look, Ash is in trouble, we’re already legal toast, Gary’s got the door open, so let’s go already!"   He tugged at his jagged hair, grinding his teeth.

Misty’s eyes flashed as she growled in the Indigo Champion’s direction.  "You," she snarled, "Are a liar, you are a cheat, you’re a jerk, and I don’t trust you.  Why.  Are.  You.  Helping.  Us."

He trembled with impotent rage, but Misty held her defiance (and the door) firmly in place.  Eventually, she won out, and his shoulders sagged.  "Look," he mumbled, "I owe him."

"You what?" she scoffed.  "Since when have you-"

"Shut up!" He growled fiercely enough to cut her off.  "Do you have any idea what kind of hell I’ve been through?  The one thing I’ve accomplished in my life, and the only reason I got it was because I double-crossed someone I used to call a friend.   How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I have to admit," Brock sided with Misty, his arms folded across his broad chest, "You didn’t seem so broken up about it after the Games…"

"It isn’t the kind of thing you realize right away, you know?"  Gary let go of the bars, striding over to the other side of the hall and leaning against the door of the opposite cell.  His back slid against cold metal as he found his way to the floor, clutching his knees to his chest.   "Every day since that match, I’ve woken up with a bitter taste in my mouth…And when Bruno came forward…"  He sighed, burying his face in shame.  "Lance was furious…he wanted to kick me out right there and then…He wanted…But Agatha…Lorelei…they saw this as their chance.   If they got me in on this case…"

"Bruno…" Misty was confused.  Then, all at once, it hit her; Ash had tossed away a disc illuminating Gary’s "Special Kinesis" at the changeover ceremony.  Bruno must have picked it up, and… "Wait, why didn’t Lance-"

"Indigo isn’t as squeaky clean as you might believe, you know."  Gary looked up, his eyes suddenly cold and empty.  "You Ketchum Kids didn’t get a full taste of it ‘cause you were running around like Farfetch’d with your heads cut off…"   He sighed.  "Lance disapproved, but he didn’t have much choice when they threatened him with his own skeletons.  I didn’t have a choice."  He looked at them pleadingly.  "I don’t care if you hate me or not, but I want you to understand…I didn’t have…"

Misty kicked the door open, striding forth and grabbing Gary by the collar.  She hauled him up with a grunt, slamming him up against the bars.  "Double-cross us," she warned him, "And I promise you won’t have enough time to regret it."

Brock pulled her off of him, separating them.  "Save it.  What’s the situation?" he asked Gary.

The direct question seemed to snap Gary out of his revere.  "He said something about Team Rocket," the would-be champ informed them, leading the way down the hall.  "Something about a man named Omega."  Brock and Misty exchanged glances before breaking into a run, passing Gary with ease.   "Hey, wait a minute!" he shouted.

"Can’t." Misty panted, pushing herself harder.  "Every second is gonna count now."  She prayed that they weren’t too late to help him.  "If we don’t hurry," she added morbidly, "There won’t be anything left…"
* * *

Ash led the way up the cable of the broken-down elevator, hauling himself up with a grunt at each tug as he rose higher, slowly but surely.  It was a much longer climb up than he remembered going down, and the added weight of Pikachu and his pack didn’t help his spirits or his progress.

Because he was ahead of Dixie by a handful of meters, he was the first to be greeted by a pair of poised pistols held at his head.  Grudgingly, he swung himself over to the edge of the abyss, landing awkwardly and nearly losing his balance.  Luckily for him (as well as the young girl below him), Spike reached out with his free hand, hauling him back from the edge and tossing him and his Pokémon roughly onto the ground.   Dixie quickly followed, rolling gracelessly onto the dirt beside him.

"Now," Shades said through gritted teeth, "As I was saying earlier-"

"Wait a minute." Spike cut him off with a raised hand.  He tossed a conspiratorial look around the cavern.  "Why ain’t that Team Rocket guy back yet?"

Shades shrugged, unable to answer and not particularly caring.  "Does it matter?"

"Suppose not." Spike admitted begrudgingly.  His gun clacked once more as he pointed it right at Dixie’s head, smiling for the first time in nearly an hour.  "Now why don’t you start coughing up those little machines, huh?" He sneered.   "Or maybe we’ll just toss you back into that hole instead."

Dixie and Ash exchanged glances.  She reached into her pack, silent as a tomb and wearing an unreadable expression as she drew out five tiny chips.  The plastic and metal data chips clattered against one another in her palm as she held them out.   "Here they are," she snarled with tears in her eyes, "The Hidden Machines.  Now let us go."

"Just a moment." Shades scooped the devices up, pocketing them with his off hand while keeping his gun trained on the teens.  "I’m afraid that won’t be possible."

"See," Spike illuminated, "You little snots are potential witnesses…"  The gleam in his eye told them everything else they needed to know as his gun strayed up and down their bodies, anxious to put a bullet into both of them, unsure of where to start.   He trembled with excitement at the mere thought of doing away with them.  "No hard feelings," he lied.

"Just business."  Shades prepared his own gun, picking his target just as Spike was doing.

Ash’s sharp eyes caught a slight movement in the shadows above them, a dark crimson flash just behind the mercenaries.  Unbeknownst to the two hired guns, the ceiling above them had begun to shift and change, morphing into a dusty brown shape.   The sediments pooled together as if made of water, defying all laws of physics and all rationality as a large, inhuman arm began to grow from the stone above them.  A hand emerged first, with three massive fingers off-set with a large, blocky thumb.   The hand stretched from the ceiling downward upon a thick stalk, reaching down silently toward the mercenaries.

"Look out behind you!" Ash screamed, his eyes wide with shock and gut cold with fear.  Dixie had noticed the hand as well, and was shrieking incoherently, pointing behind Spike and Shades.  Pikachu could only stand by, frozen with terror as the unbelievable hand loomed over them.

"Oh please," Spike snorted, rolling his eyes.  "Like we’re going to fall for that one a-" he was cut off as the hand shot down, snagging him about the waist and hauling him upward.  He let out a yell, looking upward with gun already firing in the direction of his would-be attacker.   However, there was only solid stone to be found.  "Wha-AAAAAAAA!" he screamed as the hand tightened, crushing his ribs and rupturing the organs beneath.

"Spike!" Shades was already firing into the shadowy arm to no avail, trying to free his partner without hitting him with a stray shot.  "Spike, NO!"

The life draining from him, Spike looked up in a daze.  The ceiling had begun to shift again, this time to the side of the arm.  A pair of crimson points emerged, blinking into angular eyes as the rock bulged and grew outward.  The growth split open into a gaping maw before the dying man’s eyes as the red points sunk inward, forming a crude, ugly face.   Spike was permitted one last, horrified scream before the hand shoved him into the open mouth, devouring him with a sickening crunch and a spray of blood.  As the red splattered to the floor, the face and hand retracted into the rock, leaving no mark of their passage.

"Spike…" Shades whispered.  He dropped to his knees, his gun clattering to the ground.  "S…Spike…"

"Pikachu, Thunderbolt!" Ash commanded quickly, coming to his senses faster than the others.  Pikachu shook off its horror and launched a fearsome bolt of lightning at the remaining merc, lighting him up like a Christmas tree.  The teens bounded forward as Shades slumped over, snagging his gun and tossing it into the shaft below.

Dixie, still very green about the gills, searched hopefully through Shades’ pockets before pulling her HMs.  She gave them the once over, relieved that they were still intact.  "They must be insulated against electrical shock." She remarked, trying to forget the gruesome display only moments ago."

"Forget it." Ash shot, eyeing the ceiling warily.  "We have to get out of here, and fast-"

"Prepare for trouble…"

"And make it double…"

The pair of familiar voices echoed hauntingly through the cavern, originating from sources unknown and halting Ash and Pikachu in their tracks so quickly that Dixie’s face plowed into Ash’s shoulder blades.  "Oh, crap." He groaned, massaging the bridge of his nose.   "Not now…"

"To protect the world from devastation..." The feminine voice of the pair cut in once more as the floor of the mine began to fill with a layer of crimson smoke.  It quickly rose, like water running into a pool, until it filled the teens’ vision and left everything obscured in a red haze.

"To unite all peoples within our nation..."

"To denounce the evils of truth and love…"

"To extend our reach to the stars above…"

Ash instinctively drew a pair of Pokéballs from his belt.  His right thumb found its way to the activation trigger, holding it down until it clicked.  He hurled the ball high into the air, calling his avian titan Pidgeot into the fold.  "Pidgeot, Gust away this stupid smoke!"

As Pidgeot trilled and began to cook up its own whirlwind, the unseen duo finished their rhyme.  "Team Rocket blast off at the speed of light!"

Pidgeot’s wings blasted the wind from the mine, revealing Jessie and James caught in mid-strut next to a small smoke-billowing cube of machinery.  Meowth leapt from the controls of the smoke generator, finishing the motto with "Meowth, dat’s right!"

"I have a Charizard right here with your name on it, Team Rocket!" Ash called out venomously as Pidgeot was recalled into its ball.  He was in no mood to play games with those two, and he wanted the point to get across clearly.  "And unless you two have been bulking up your team lately, I know you don’t have anything that can take him."

"Oh, but we do, twerp!" Jessie assured him with a haughty flip of her hair.

James snickered, stepping aside as if drawing back a curtain.  "Presenting, for the first time anywhere…"

"The magnificent…" Jessie added, mimicking James…

"ROBO-ROCKET OMEGA!"

For a moment, there was complete silence, save for the whistling of the winds as they blew through the entrance of the mine.  The stillness was soon split by the thunderous metallic slam of metal on rock.  It came again before their ears’ ringing ceased from the first explosion, and again, and again, each time drawing closer and setting off greater vibrations.

The cavernous entrance, a circlet of pure white light in the dimness of the mine, became darkened with an enormous silhouette.  The shape was that of a man, if a man were forty feet tall and composed of bulletproof alloys.  The shape drew closer and became bathed in the dim light of the electric lamps, revealing the pristine white alloy with red trim, broad shoulders, bristling with menace and sporting a pair of massive cannons on each wrist.

"Miss me, Ketchum?" Omega’s voice possessed a synthesized twang as the red visor of the mech loomed down to face Ash.  "Oh, I found a friend of yours that was dying to see you…"

The mech’s metal fist uncurled, revealing a brutally battered lump of flesh and armor scraps.  Ash rushed to Samurai’s aid as the mech allowed the boy to roll to the floor, catching the warrior in his arms and dropping to his knees.

"Oh man," Ash swore, lowering Samurai to the ground.  "Samurai," he cupped the boy’s face, shaking him gently.  "Samurai, can you hear me?"  Though his chest rose and fell steadily, his breathing was still shallow, his pulse weak and erratic.   Ash glared up at Omega, trying to push aside his anger.  "Omega, listen to me: something bad is in this cavern.  Something really bad.  We have to get out of here, now!  All of us!"

Omega peered down at the children through the suit’s red visor, feeling a small smile grow on his lips.  Double-checking to make sure his mech was transmitting its telemetry to Team Rocket Headquarters, he armed the twin wrist-mounted plasma cannons, feeling the feedback work its way through the neural connectors hooked up to his body.   "Nice try, boy," he called through the external speakers, "But nothing will save you now.  No speeches, no tricks, no gloating…"  The cannon shifted, zeroing in on Ash and his little friends.  He and Pikachu were positioned to take the brunt of the blast, with Samurai and Dixie easily in range to be secondary casualties.   "Just this."

The entire cave shifted, quaking violently just as his finger descended onto the trigger button.  As a result, the shot went wild, striking the wall behind his intended targets with an enormous bolt of glowing green power.  His mech’s gyros were unable to handle the sudden shift, and the metallic goliath fell onto its armored hindquarters with a deafening clang.   No one was left standing during the massive quake; even Pikachu, with its natural agility and balance, was toppled as the very ground it stood upon.

"What in the name of…" Omega swore, sweeping his suit’s scanners across the chamber.  There were strange anomalies, seismic and electromagnetic, emanating from almost the exact spot his shot had struck.  It was as if the rock were alive, shifting and molding like sentient gelatin.   Limbs grew from the rock, followed quickly by a thick, massive torso.  The outgrowth separated from the cavern wall, gaining detail by the second.  An anatomy of muscles formed; trapezoidal pectorals, rough, cubic biceps, gridline abdominals all rose from the stone.   A thick bulge grew from the neck, splitting into a wide, gaping maw as it shifted into a rectangular, serpentine head.  The gleaming red eyes that had haunted Ash since entering the mine blinked into existence, growing sharp and angular with frightening rage.

"Ecks…" the monster growled, stretching its newly formed fingers, which were little more than stubby blocks on the ends of its massive hands.  The creature easily dwarfed the Omega Red mech by a good ten feet, and was twice as wide.  "Ecks-hiiiiiiilllleee…"

"Oh, sweet Goddess…" Ash breathed, gathering Samurai into his arms.

"Ex-hillle…"

"A…A-a-a-ash-sh-sh-sh…" Dixie stuttered.  She was rooted to the spot, clutching her beloved pendent as he eyes traveled up the hulking leviathan.  Though her mouth opened and closed, her voice was gone, little more than a squeak and lost in the monster’s rolling rumble.   The monster seemed disoriented, as if unsure of its new body.  Faint traces of smoke and dust escaped from its grinding joints in thin, ghostly wisps as it took its first steps, quaking the ground with each footfall.

Ash whistled for Pikachu, heaving Samurai off of the ground.  "Dixie." He looked at her, but her eyes were glued to the monster.  "Dixie!"  His voice, filled with greater urgency this time, finally cut through her haze.  She looked at him, and yet not at him, with dull, senseless eyes.   He prayed that she still had enough of her senses to follow him, for he wasn’t sure if he could save them all otherwise.  "We have to run.  Dixie, run!  Run!"  His shoulder dug into hers as he nudged her along, practically shoving her away from the scene of the monstrous birth and towards the bright salvation beyond through the mine’s exit.

Jessie had found a nice, quiet spot with James and Meowth on the sidelines from which they could witness the twerp’s gruesome death.  Now, however, it looked as though it would be their final resting place as the beast’s scarlet scowl swung ‘round to fall on them.

"Mmmmmm." The monster grumbled eagerly, taking a few gigantic strides in their direction.  "Squishys…"

"N-not da brightest bulb, is h-he?" Meowth’s teeth chattered as he backed up flat against the wall.  James could only scream, and he did so; long, loudly, and at an octave far too high for a male to normally achieve.  "So, I guess dis is how it ends…funny," Meowth sobbed as he clung to James’ leg in terror, "I never would’a guessed it would end like dis…"

Jessie too clung to James, squeezing her eyes shut.  "I guess Team Rocket won’t be blasting off again…" she whispered.  Uncharacteristic tears ran down her cheeks as she pressed her face to his, taking solace in her only true friend’s arms.   "Goodbye, James."

"Goodbye, Jessie," he murmured in her ear, holding her tightly.

The monster completely ignored Omega’s robot, zeroing in on the soft flesh of the Rocket trio.  Just as it reached them, it stopped; the beast’s hand frozen in mid-snatch, it began to sniff the air.  Its head swiveled unnaturally, peering at another trio as they ran for the exit.   The monster murmured a single word, practically pounding it into the three stooges with rotting breath.  Then, forgetting its current quarry, it turned away and began lumbering towards the exit.

Omega finally got his mecha to stabilize once more, guiding it back onto its feet.  He first checked up on his three assistants, watching in amazement as the rock creature chased after the retreating teenagers.  "Are you three all right?" he asked.   "What was it?  What did it say?"

"A…A…" Jessie tried to form coherent words, finding it difficult after such a close brush with death.  "It...It s-said…"

"A-ashura." James finished for her, still clinging tightly.  Under normal circumstances, she may have objected, but her own grip was still strong and unbreakable as well.  "I-it said ‘Ashura’, and then walked away."

Omega seemed taken aback.  Ashura?  The names were similar, but that wasn’t Ketchum’s name.  So why was the beast taking such an interest in the boy?  "Who in blazes is Ashura?"
* * *

Misty squinted as they flew into the setting sun, suspended high above the frosty peaks of Alaska in a helicopter that she, Brock and Gary had ‘borrowed’ from Snowfort’s tiny airport.  With Gary at the helm, they had followed the route that Samurai had given to him via phone, covering ground far faster than they could have on foot.

"Are you sure you know how to fly this thing?" Brock clung to the edges of his seat as the ‘copter lurched to one side, zipping a mere hundred feet above the ground.

Gary shrugged.  "I’ve been working towards my pilot’s license for a while now.  You know, something to do in my spare time."

"I really hope you’ve had a lot of spare time, then." Brock prayed silently, biting his lower lip as his stomach went through another flip-flop.

Misty thoughts, by contrast, were far from their own safety.  She scanned the ground below, searching for any clue, any sign of Ash or the others.  It wasn’t easy in the waning daylight; she doubted they would have more than another twenty minutes before the sun set completely.   It was rather ironic, actually; during this time of year in Alaska, the sun would only be down for a few hours.  Of all the times for a daring rescue…

"We’re closing in on the coordinates," Gary informed her, pulling her from her own thoughts.  She could see the ravine that the Indigo Champion had described to them up ahead, though no sign of their friends was forthcoming.  Her face pressed up against the glass as they flew over.   Even from this height, she spied two tiny, dark shapes darting out of some kind of opening in the rock, followed quickly by an even tinier yellow blur.

"There they are!  Land!  Land!" she cried, jabbing her finger.  She was about ready to yank the controls from the Oak boy and crash them herself, but managed to hold her patience as he put them into a terrifying dive that nearly gave Brock a heart attack.   Misty had dislodged her door before the runners ever touched down, halfway out of the helicopter as Gary shut the rotors off and killed the engine.

"Ash!" Her new black hair streamed out behind her as she ran out to meet him.  He was carrying someone, but she couldn’t tell who, and she didn’t care all that much.  All that mattered was that he was all right.  "Ash, you’re okay!"

"BACK IN THE CHOPPER!" he screamed, sprinting as fast as he could with his burden.  "Start the motor.  Go!  GO!"

Her feet skidded on the rough, loose rock as she tried to stop, shocked at the ferocity of his words.  "Ash, what is-"

"ASHURA!" an inhuman roar erupted from the mouth of the mine, chilling her to the bone and stopping her words in-throat.  Her eyes grew wide with fear as the monstrous golem sprung out, moving impossibly fast for a creature of its size.  It bore down on them, making the earth tremble with every tread it took.   "Exile smash Ashura!" it cried, slurring its speech through stony lips.

Ash swore, sliding to a halt not far from Misty.  He handed Samurai off to Dixie, ripping a Pokéball from his belt and tossing it back at the beast.  "Wartortle, I choose you!"

Wartortle, Ash’s strongest Water type, came screaming into existence with a flash and a pop.  The tiny turtle titan was instantly on the alert, but cowed as it saw the massive monster of living rock heading straight towards them.  "War…W-wartortle!?" it shivered, backing up several steps.

"Wartortle, we need you to buy us a few seconds!" Ash swallowed, hoping that his hunch was right.  "Start off with a Bubblebeam, but don’t get too close to it."

Ash closed the gap between himself and Misty as his Pokémon obeyed with a blast of silvery bubbles.  "Misty," he looked to her, trying to shake her from her stupor.  A small part of him wondered how and why she was here, but it wasn’t important at the moment.   "Misty, I need my Pokédex…and Wartortle could use some back-up."

"Wh…what is that thing?" she murmured.

"Misty, it’s made of rock!" Ash grabbed her by the shoulders.  "You’re always telling me what a master of Water you are!  I need your help.  Misty!"

"R…right…" she shook off the trance that had settled over her brain, pulling several Pokéballs from her bag.  "Staryu, Starmie, Seadra…I choose you!"  Her hand swept out, tossing a trio of balls at once into the fold.  They disgorged their combatants into the fray, and with a quick command from their trainer, began aiding Wartortle in the hopeless battle.   The monster, whatever it was, apparently did not appreciate the impromptu bath.  It writhed in agony, trying to fend off the multiple streams of water with enormous hands, swiping too slowly at the smaller, faster opponents.

"Where’s Dexter?" Ash demanded, keeping one eye on the battle.

Brock pulled the red device from his pocket, tossing it to his friend.  "Right here, buddy."  He held up his wrist, showing Ash that he had the Pokégear as well, should they need it.

Ash gave him a quick nod as he booted Dexter up.  The ‘Dex’s sensors came on-line in a flash, scanning their surroundings and becoming instantly aware of the rocky titan as Ash pointed him in its direction.  "Good morning, every-YOW!  What the jiggity is that?"

"Dexter," Ash said through gritted teeth, hoping that his flaky device could focus for a moment, "You remember the information that you downloaded back at Mount Moon last year?"

"Sure, but-"

"Access it.  Now.  I need to know what we’re facing, and fast!"

Had Dexter the shoulders to do so, he would have shrugged.  "I can try, but remember," he informed his user, "The information is incomplete…I may not have-"

"Dexter!"

"Right, right." Dexter hummed, scanning through the sketchy translations of Professor Oak’s ancient Pokémopolitan texts.  "Okay, I’m getting something…compiling…annnnnnnnnd…there!"  He beeped, switching over to his monotone info-retrieval mode: "Exile, the Forbidden Demon of Earth."

"So," Dixie breathed, peering over Ash’s shoulder as the others gathered about him to watch, "His name ‘is’ Exile…"

Dexter continued, working with what little information he had.  "Exile, like the other Dark Ones, gains power through the absorption of raw human spirit.  Upon collecting enough power, the creature is able to stand direct sunlight, and move about freely during the day."

"Okay," Ash muttered, "So Spike gave him enough SPF to come out and play…How do we beat him?"

"Actually," Dexter lamented with an electronic cough, "That’s all I’ve got…"

Exile’s fearsome roar stole Dexter’s thunder as it caught hold of Seadra, grasping it in its massive hand.  The aquatic dragon screeched in terror as the forbidden demon raised it to its massive lips, ready to bite the head from the Water type.   The other Pokémon tried to desperately to save their comrade, but their blasts of water went unnoticed.

"Seadra, NO!" Misty screamed, sprinting forward.  Ash, Brock, Dixie and Gary weren’t far behind, each reaching for a Pokémon to aid in the fight and save the captive meal.

"Ivysaur!"

"Onix, go!"

"Go, Croconaw!"

"I choose you, Poliwrath!"

The new additions leapt into the fray the instant their molecules re-stabilized, blasting at the golem with streams of water, flurries of razor leaves or good-old-fashioned rocks.  The combined blasts were enough to dislodge Seadra from Exile’s grasp.   Onix, taking the forefront of the charge, wrapped itself around Exile’s midsection, catching one arm and trapping it in the hold as it put the squeeze on the demon.

Gary wiped beads of terror sweat from his brow, shouting intermittent orders to his combatant.  "This isn’t going to work for long!" he shouted, even as Exile began prying itself free of Onix’s grasp with its free arm.  "Doesn’t anything work against this thing?"

Exile burst free even as Gary asked the question, and snagged the enormous rock snake’s tail as it fell.  With a twist and a pivot, it brought the tail up and over its shoulder, smashing Onix against the ground so hard as to actually make the nigh-impervious Rock type’s skin to crack against the unforgiving earth.   He swept at the ground, knocking Wartortle and Starmie aside and into a rock outcropping.

"Exile eat tiny squishys!  Exile smash!  Exile…huh?"  A sharp blast of liquid green energy slammed into Exile’s back, causing as much disruption in its attention as a gnat buzzing about its head.  "Wha-?"

Omega’s mech streaked out of the mine’s entrance, a red and black blur against the shimmering twilight reflecting on the rocks.  He shouldered into Exile, hoping to knock the demon to the ground, but the machine’s shoulder joint wasn’t up to the task.   The Omega Red mech crumpled at the arm, bouncing off of the rock titan and falling to the ground.  

Ash was struck dumbfound as he collected Wartortle, returning the injured Pokémon to its ball.  "What, you’re helping us?" He shouted with hands cupped to his lips.  "All right!"

"Dream on, Ketchum!" Omega scoffed, raising his good arm and blasting Exile in the face with a double-barrel full of plasma.  This seemed to phase the demon, knocking it onto the ground and giving Omega enough time to rise again.  "I’m not about to let anyone else kill you.   Once I’ve taken care of this little problem…" His voice trailed off as Exile rose once more, unscathed and enraged at Omega’s last attack.  "I could use a little artillery support here!"

"Dat’s us!"  Jessie, James and Meowth sprinted from the cave with cannons in hand, taking aim and firing wildly in Exile’s general direction.  Of course, nearly every shot missed, and the teens were forced to scramble to avoid the bazooka blasts that peppered the ground.   "Fiiiiiiirreee!"

"Time to hit the gravel pile, ugly!" James called, catching Exile right between the eyes with a well-placed explosive round.

Jessie nailed the demon in the shin, driving it to the ground.  "We may be lousy assassins," she snarled, keeping her eye glued to the targeting reticule in her sight, "But we’re dynamite shots!"

Brock ducked as another shot singed the topmost spikes on his scalp.  "Just make sure the dynamite goes off where it’s supposed to!" he screamed, calling Onix back into its Pokéball.

Ash gritted his teeth, watching as Team Rocket joined their unified front against the ancient demon.  Powerful as the Omega Mech was, it would prove little more than a drop in the bucket.  Already, Exile was back on his monstrous feet, grappling with the titanic armored suit…and winning.

"This isn’t working…" he muttered, even as the last licking tendrils of the sunlight vanished behind snowcapped peaks.  "We need a plan, we need…something, anything!"

"Ash," Misty shouted, keeping her attention divided between the battle and Ash’s sudden introspection, "Get your head back in the game!"

Misty’s shrill reprimand seemed to catch Exile’s attention.  His bloody gaze shifted while he still was locked hand-for-hand with the ‘bot.  "Hnh?" He grumbled, shoving the mech aside violently.  A wave of recognition crossed his rough-hewn features, followed by a deep scowl.   "Two Ashuras?  That not right!  Exile squish both Ashuras!"

Ash was struck with terrified puzzlement.  Why did the beast keep calling him ‘Ashura?’  And what was that ‘two’ business.  He looked over at Misty, preparing to grab her and make a run for it as Exile started his thunderous charge.   "What’s he talking-"

Misty tossed a glance his way, "What’s wrong?"  She noticed him staring at her, and brushed a lock of black hair from her eyes, which had a set of carefully drawn Z’s resting beneath them on each cheek.  "What?"

‘He thinks she’s a disciple, like me!’ Ash’s mind screamed at him.  "Misty, run!" He cried, snagging her arm and dragging her along.  "Run!"

Dizzy from his fall, Omega pulled his mech up onto its knees, raising his undamaged arm and priming the plasma cannons.  "Heads up, chump!" he growled, loosing a flurry of green blasts.  However, his weapon had suffered a misalignment during the fight, causing the shots to fly wildly above the monster’s head.   They crashed into the rock face that Exile was stomping towards…

The one that Ash and Misty were standing in front of.

The mountain crumbled beneath Omega’s onslaught, bringing tons of rock down around Ash and Misty.  Pikachu escaped harm with a burst of electro-kinetic Agility, trailing sparks from his lightning bolt tail as he darted between the deadly dounpour.   Ash looked all about him as boulders rained down, looking for an opening.  "Misty, get ready to-"

"Ash, LOOK OUT!" Misty screamed.  Her hands slammed into his shoulders as she shoved him forward.  He tucked and rolled, barely avoiding an enormous boulder that still managed to rattle his teeth on the way down.

Omega’s next shot compensated for the crooked sight, nailing Exile in the shoulder and bringing the beast down momentarily as Ash leapt back to his feet.  "Misty?"  His eyes searched the mound of rubble, darting back and forth.  "Misty?   Misty!?"  Suddenly, his eye caught a flash of red and white; it was Misty’s empty Pokéball, still clutched in her limp hand and poking out of a small opening in the boulder pile.  "MISTY!"

"PIKA!"

He rushed forward, slamming into the rock pile at nearly full force as he knelt down to dig at the rubble.  Rocks flew to either side with a strength Ash never knew he had.  Pikachu was hot on his heels, tugging at boulders far too large for the tiny Pokémon to move.   "Misty!" Ash screamed again, doing all he could to hold on to the tiny voice of control that remained steadfast in his mind.  He cleared away what he could, revealing the bruised and bloodied upper half of his oldest, dearest friend.  "Misty, can you hear me?"

Her face was covered in blood, seeping from a half-dozen cuts and tears in her perfect ivory skin.  Hair that had been recently dyed black now turned red again as the thick crimson liquid matted its way into her locks.  Her clothing was torn in several places, and the skin beneath was already turning a dark purple far more quickly than any bruising could do, which probably meant that she was bleeding internally.

One eye was nearly swollen shut, blackened by a stray rock.  The other fluttered open shakily.  Her pupil danced, telling Ash that she probably had a hard time focusing.  "A…Ash?" she gurgled.  Thin streams of blood escaped her lips at the word, breaking Ash’s tenuous heart.

"Misty!" he grabbed the sides of her face, cupping her head gently.  "Hold on, Misty.  Listen to me!  You’re gonna be-"

"I love you…" the words escaped her lips in a rattle as her one good eye slowly closed.  Her chest ceased to rise and fall, even as one last gasp puffed a small cloud of warm air onto Ash’s knuckles.

"Misty!  MISTY!"

Exile was up again, oblivious to the drama unfolding in front of him.  He ignored the bolts of pure plasma that Omega was unloading into his back.  He ignored the pitiful blows from the Rocket Trio.  He ignored the gang’s Water Pokémon as they pumped gallon after gallon at him with incredible pressure.   Digging his fingers into the earth, he seemed to concentrate for a moment.  Through sheer will, he created a gigantic wave that traveled the ground, rolling at his attackers and knocking them all back and out of the way.  "Little warrior going to die, now!" Exile promised Ash, rising to loom over the hysterical boy and his Pokémon.

Ash gritted his teeth, lowering his forehead to rest against Misty’s.  His lips found their way to hers for one brief second, giving her a peck before standing.  Hatless, he was forced to lift the stray triangular locks out of his eyes as he glared up at the titanic golem.   "I don’t know what you are," he told the beast with a ferocity his voice had never known, "But I swear, you’ll pay."

"Small words." Exile chortled thickly.  He seemed to be enjoying the moment, like so many others who had gained the upper hand over Ash Ketchum.  "Little Goddess-Warrior sad that Exile squish other?  Then little warrior going to be very sad."   There was pure malice glowing from his red eyes as he reached down, ready to pluck the very head from Ash’s shoulders and pop it in his mouth like a grape.

Something within Ash broke; a dam that had blocked something inside of him, something very potent, gave way as all of Ash’s anger, all of his sadness, his rage and fear, came together in a single point.  It focused inside of him with such power that the excess seeped out from his eyes, giving them a blinding white glow.   Even Pikachu was touched by the power, alighting with a brilliance that even its most powerful electrical attacks could not hope to produce.

"NO!"

The power expanded, forming a nimbus of pure white around the three that blinded anyone who looked upon it.  Exile screeched in pain as the radiance burned into him, forcing him back lest his earthy skin crumble away.  The power spread, forming a sphere of protection that encompassed Ash, Misty, and Pikachu.   Wind and thunder swirled about the shield as Pikachu added its own power into the mix.  Together, the two created an impenetrable forcefield with an explosive gale howling and blasting away rock and sand.

Brock, Gary and Dixie stood together, gathering their fallen Pokémon.  Gary’s arms reflexively gathered in front of his eyes as he shielded himself from the dazzling display.  "What’s going on?!" he shouted to be heard above the roar of the barrier.

"I don’t know!" Brock shouted back, wincing as the dust was blown into his eyes.  He had never seen anything like this before.  "Something’s happened to Ash!"

"Ash!" Dixie screamed.  "Ash, stop it!  Stop it!" she begged to deaf ears.  "Brock, what’s going on?  What’s wrong with him?"

"MISTY!" Ash’s scream rose above the din, seemingly answering Dixie’s question.  "MISTY!"

Brock drew in a sharp breath.  Misty…the rockslide…  "Oh god, no…" he murmured.  "Ash, NO!" he screamed.  Ash was beyond pain, and he had more power than any of them could have guessed.  "Ash!"
* * *

The world had dissolved into a field of white before Ash’s eyes even as he screamed.  Everything vanished; Pikachu, the rockslide, Exile…even Misty.  He fell to his knees, racked with sobs.  "Misty," he choked.  How had everything gotten so out of hand?   Why couldn’t he have protected her?  He was the one fighting this stupid battle against evil, not her.

"Disciple?"

Ash looked up, spying a familiar figure lurking in the mists.  The white haze parted to allow the graceful, beautiful form of the Pokégoddess through.  "Wha?"

"Disciple," the Goddess seemed confused as she approached her mortal servant, "How did you-"

Ash leapt forward, grabbing hold of the edge of her wispy gown.  "Goddess!" he cried, "Please, help me!"

The pulled the edge of her gown away, taking several steps back.  After a millennia of solitude, she was uncomfortable with the idea of physical contact.  "I cannot help, Disciple," she told him, "I can only observe-"

"No!" he was down on his knees, crawling forward.  "Please, save my friend!  I know you can, I know you-"

"I cannot." She said again, this time more firmly.  "I am forbidden from interfering from the mortal realm."

"You saved me!" he sobbed, with tears streaming from his eyes.  "The first time I met you, you saved me!"  His voice became lost in his bawling as he collapsed.  "I know you can save her.  I’m begging you, I…"

A flash of light blinded him momentarily.  When he could see again, he gasped at the sight of Misty’s injured form floating in front of him.  She hung there with a look of supreme peace on her battered features.  A thin stream of light seeped from her chest, trailing off into the ether high above them.

"Look upon the one you hold dear, my child," the Goddess instructed him, "And listen."  Ash slowly rose to his feet, wiping his forgotten tears away as his mouth hung in shock.  He reached out, passing his hand through the haze of light that bled from Misty.   It felt warm and tingled like electricity.  "The light you perceive is your friend’s life-force…her very essence.  Even if I were to repair the physical damage to her body, that that she has already lost is far too much.  She is gone."

"No…" he whispered, resting his hand on her stomach.  She still felt warm to the touch, but cooling rapidly.

"I am truly sorry, my child." The Goddess overrode her distaste, laying a hand on Ash’s shoulder to try and comfort the boy.  "Your loss is terrible, but-"

He tossed her arm off, driving her away so forcefully, she could not help but be shocked at such audacity from a mortal.  "I.  Said.  No." he growled, turning on her.

"You have none but yourself to blame, Disciple." The Goddess warned him, regaining her regal composure in an instant.  "Had you heeded your mission that you began at the Mountain of the Moon, none of this would have happened.  Instead, you neglected-"

"You don’t listen very well, do you?" Ash snarled.  He did not attack, but instead walked around Misty, letting the girl separate the two of them to add emphasis to what he was about to say.  "I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer here."   His eyes narrowed as that famous Ketchum determination came into play.  "I know you have the power to bring her back.  Do it.  Now."

"There is no-"

He wasn’t about to hear it.  "I swear to you," he spoke in low, dangerous words, "If she goes, she won’t be the only one."

The Goddess thought for a moment that he was threatening her.  Then the look in his eye told her differently, setting her aback.  "You wouldn’t…"  

       For the first time since their meeting, Ash saw fear in the Goddess; pure, irrational, and uncertain.  "You see this ‘loss’ right here?"  He looked down into Misty’s face, tenderly brushing his fingers against her cheek.   "She means everything to me.  I…I can’t imagine life without her."  Even he was surprised at the force of his words.  Looking back up at the Goddess, he added, "For six years, she’s been right by my side.  I’m not about to try going on without her."

       The Goddess said nothing for several seconds, matching Ash’s stare with hers.  Ash, however, was unwavering, and at last, her shoulders sagged with a sigh.  "There is one way…" she admitted finally.

       "How?"

       She gestured to Misty’s insensate form, letting it rotate slowly in mid-air.  "There is no way of replacing the life-force that she has lost.  However…" she hesitated, checking Ash’s resolve once more.  His eyes were as iron.   "We can replace it with another’s."

       Ash’s jaw clenched as he set his chin defiantly in the air.  "Fine.  Take mine."

       "It is not that simple."  She considered the situation.  "We cannot simply take another’s essence and transfer it thusly.  We can, however, create a link."

       "A link?" He asked.  "You mean, she’ll have some of my life-thingie?"

She nodded once more, moving to lay a slender, gentle hand on Misty’s midsection.  "Your life energy will be directly connected to hers.  It will no longer be yours, or hers…rather, both of you will share a portion of-"

       "Just do it!" he leapt forward, thumping his chest as if there were simply some outlet she could plug into for the procedure.  "Save her.  Now!"

       "A word of caution, Disciple."  Her voice became low, startling Ash more than any outburst could have.  "Like all decisions, this too will have consequences.  You may feel differently afterwards."

       "I’m not changing my mind." Ash told her flatly.  "Now let’s do this."

       "Very well."  The Goddess’ eyes closed for a moment as she gathered her focus.  When they opened again, they were pure white, pulsing with a hidden power far greater than anything Ash had ever experienced.  Reaching out, her hand brushed against his chest, and he felt a surge of warmth enter into him, spreading even as her other hand rested against the source of Misty’s waning life-force.   For a moment, everything was fine.  Then the world began to spin, swirling in a dizzy display of pristine fog that swallowed the world around him.  Even as everything vanished, he could still hear the Goddess’ last words lingering in his ears…

       *Remember your destiny…*
       * * *

       Brock was down on the ground, shielding Dixie as best he could from the maelstrom as it continued to rage on, with Ash, Misty and Pikachu at the epicenter.  Gary as next to him, covering Samurai in much the same way.

"Look!" Gary’s voice rose above the howling winds.  Brock looked up just in time to see the nimbus of white energy collapse around his friend.  In the distance he could see Ash fall to the ground, planting his face into the dirt.  He could hardly see Misty, and Pikachu was nowhere to be found.   Gary launched himself back onto his feet even as Exile and Team Rocket’s metal leviathan were lumbering back into a fray of their own.  "What happened?"

"I don’t know," Brock helped Dixie up, re-shouldering his own pack, "C’mon!"  He led the charge across the scorched battlefield as the Omega Mech and Exile slugged it out.  "Ash!  ASH!" His feet skidded against loose rock as he reached his fallen friends, dropping to his knees and cradling Ash in his arms.   He slapped the boy’s face a few times, trying to revive him.  Other than a few cuts and bruises, Ash was completely unharmed.  "I don’t get it..." he muttered hysterically, "He just fainted."

"Oh my God!" Dixie knelt by Misty’s exposed torso, checking over her.  "It looks like she’s been through a wringer!  Her pulse is really weak, Brock!"

Gary watched as Exile took the upper hand in his fight against Omega, terrified with each blow that the demon threw.  "We need to get back to the chopper," he insisted, eyeing their ticket out of there and praying that Exile took no notice of it.   "We can get out of here, we can call the Army or something-"

"No," Brock shook his head, lifting Ash’s unresponsive eyelids and checking his pupils.  "You can’t stop these things like that…"  On a hunch, he searched through Ash’s jacket, coming up with a familiar black sphere.  It was cold to the touch, and tingled faintly against his clammy hands.   "I remember these things…"

AUGH!

A short, tinny scream was all Omega could manage as Exile tore into the mech’s cold steel frame.  By the looks of things, the demon had grown tired of the fight; he ripped the robot’s arm straight from its socket and plunged it, hand first, straight into its chest.   Then, reaching up, Exile gripped the mech’s cockpit on either side and crushed it as easily as if it were an egg.  Streams of hydraulic fluid and coolant spurted like blood, flowing freely down the ruined armor and dripping from Exile’s massive hands as he let the ruined, useless machine fall to the ground.

Jessie turned to James, lowering her empty bazooka.  "I think it’s time Team Rocket blasted off again…" she said wide-eyed.  "What do you think?"  James wasn’t there; his and Meowth’s weapons lay discarded on the ground, the only evidence of their ever being there.   "James?  Meowth?"

"We’re three steps ahead of you!" James called out from halfway up the ridge.  "Hurry up!  Meowth already has the balloon ready to go up top!"

"You could have WAITED for me!" Jessie screeched, rushing to catch up and struggling in her knee-high heeled boots.

* * *

Dixie’s stomach did its third flip-flop as she watched Omega’s mech fall motionless onto the ground.  She bit her lip, wrapping her arms around Ash’s torso and preparing to move him as best as she could while Brock tried to dig Misty from the rock slide.   "We aren’t going to make it, are we?" she whispered, glancing over at Brock.

       He looked up, risking a glance towards Gary’s helicopter.  The other boy had already made a break for it, stopping just long enough for a detour to collect Samurai and toss him into the back hatch.  The rotors were beginning to spin lazily, kicking up a cyclone of dust, but they wouldn’t reach full speed in time.   "Just make sure you get Pikachu, too."  The Pokémon, like its trainer, still had not woken up.  If the situation came to it, Brock would have to make sure that his friends got away.  "Dixie, I want you to do something for me: Take my Pokémon out of my pack, and make sure they get out okay."

       "No Brock!" Dixie protested, tugging harder on Ash.  She only managed to drag him a few feet further, and was certain that she couldn’t get him there alone.  "I’m not leaving-"

       "Don’t argue!" Brock could hear Exile’s stomping footsteps growing closer.  In another few seconds, he would be upon them for certain.  "I’ll lead him away.  Have Gary swing around and-"

       "Brock."

       Ash’s sudden revival scared Dixie so badly that she dropped him like a sack of flour, cracking his head on the hard ground below.  He hardly seemed to notice, keeping his tone low and even.  "Get to the chopper," he instructed his surrogate big brother, "Just in case."

       "Ash!" Brock helped his friend to his feet, thankful that he was all right.  "We have to-"

       "Get to the chopper." Ash said again.  His voice was eerily calm, his eyes unwavering and cold.  When Dixie looked into them, it was as if she was looking at a different person.  "Both of you." He added at her questioning glance.   "I know what to do."

       "Ash, I-"

       He ignored Brock’s insistence, looking to his insensate partner.  "Pikachu." His voice clipped crisply.  The Pokémon’s eyes snapped open as if awakening from a strange dream.  It sat up slowly, rising to its haunches as it looked up to Ash.   "Let’s go."

       Dixie tugged at his arm.  "Ash, you can’t just-" She stopped, shocked at his cold shoulder treatment; he never even acknowledged her.  Instead, his other hand raised, aimed at the Demon Ball Brock had discovered and discarded from his jacket.   It rose into the air, trailing a fine streamer of dust before it snapped into his waiting hand as if by magic.  Eyes wide with amazement, Dixie could only watch as Ash began walking towards the approaching Exile.

       "Ash…" she whispered, starting after him.

       A strong hand on her shoulder stopped her.  She looked back to Brock, who shook his head.  "For better or worse," Brock sighed, "This is something he has to do."

       "I don’t understand…" Dixie wailed.  Hot tears of anger and fear trickled down her cheeks.  "Brock, I-"

       He pulled her aside, drawing her close to Misty so that he could do his best to keep both girls safe.  "I don’t either, Dixie." He assured her, wiping the tears away as they watched Ash go off into battle, "But I believe in him."
       * * *

       Each step that Exile took shook the ground, sending loose rocks and dust flying into the air.  It made Ash glad, for the quaking hid his own nervous knocking knees and trembling fists locked down at his side.  His hand squeezed around the Demon Ball so hard, he was certain his fingerprints were pressed into its smooth obsidian surface.   "Pikachu," he intoned as the titanic beast drew near, "Are you ready?"

       "Pika.  Pika-pi."  Ash didn’t need to see his partner to know his take on the situation, and he agreed one hundred percent; they were in serious trouble if this didn’t work.

       Exile looked down at his miniscule opponents, chortling with a booming voice that shook Ash to his very core and washed over him in festering waves of rancid breath.  "So," Exile laughed, "Little Ashura squishy want to be first to die?"

       "No," Ash retorted calmly, keeping his fear in check as he raised the Demon Ball for Exile to see.  Like Missingno’s had a year before, it began to glow in the presence of its former prisoner with a hellish crimson aura.   "Little squishy is going to kick the crap out of you.  Then I’m going to stuff your titanic butt back in its cage."

       "Haw!  Ashura-born make Exile laugh." Exile guffawed, leaning over so that its massive face was only a few feet from Ash’s.  "Exile can squish tiny’s head like grape.  What squishy going do about it?"

       Ash traded a calm glance with Pikachu, who nodded in response.  "Pikachu," Ash intoned as he looked back to Exile.  "Flash."

       Electricity began splaying across Pikachu’s skin, just as it had before, but at a much higher rate.  Several stray bolts charged the air around them, snapping around so wildly that even the mighty demon pulled back in surprise.   Even as Ash’s hair began to stand on end, Pikachu brought the charge back within itself.  A split second later, its skin exploded in a dazzling burst of light, a hundred times brighter than it had used in the cave.  Ash stood there, surrounded in light, an angel squared off against the darkness.   The sight filled Dixie with tears before she couldn’t stand to look anymore, forced away by Pikachu’s brilliance.  The light forced Gary back to the ground, lest he crash their only means of escape.  It drowned out the aurora borealis, turning dusk into day for everyone within half a mile of the thundermouse.

       Exile found himself at the heart of the luminous maelstrom, bathed in pure white light.  It seared his stony features, burning away at the armored rock on his hide and striking deep within him.  There was no part of him that the light couldn’t touch, and every inch of it burned like no other pain the creature had ever faced.   He roared  in agony.  He screamed, begged Pikachu to stop.  He struck around blindly, trying to find the source of his pain and end it.  He cursed Ash’s bones, promising to eat them as soon as he could find them.  But try as he might, he could not stop the light.

       Ash clutched the ball to his chest, feeling a power within him stir once more.  With skill he never knew he had, he released the power into the ball, feeling the energies enter the sphere and charge it with an even greater power.   Its red aura began to challenge Pikachu’s blinding radiance, piercing the pure white so that Exile could see.  The flash of red struck fear into his cold empty core as he recoiled from the light.  He scrambled backwards as quickly as he could, but Ash was already in motion.

       "Dark one!" Ash shouted, his voice taking on an unnatural bass resonance, "Your time here is at an end.  Return to thy urn and thy imprisonment!"  For an instant, if anyone could have seen Ash’s eyes through the dust, the dirt and the light, they might have caught the flash of gold alighting his dark amber irises as the ball’s radiance grew, surrounding the boy in a fearsome red glow.   "Exile," he shouted, drawing his arm back, "Return!"

       The ball flew forward in a practiced pitch, one that Ash had spent years honing carefully in his travels and training.  It streaked forward, propelled unnaturally by the nimbus of energy surrounding it, and struck Exile square in the forehead.   Exile’s tortured howl echoed across the landscape as the Demon Ball began drawing his spirit from the rock, peeling away the layers of earth and stone and sucking the dark core within.  Black energies flowed into the ball like a thousand miniscule vortices.   An eternity later, the ball dropped to the ground, and Pikachu at last ceased its light show.

       The canyon became eerily quiet as Ash slowly approached the ball.  His friends and comrades collected themselves on the sidelines, rubbing the stars from their eyes as the unwitting hero stepped closer and closer.  A thin wisp of smoke trailed from the ball, which sat quietly on the ground.   Slowly, carefully, Ash reached down and picked it up, gripping it firmly.

       Dixie was the first to approach him.  She came from behind, watching him stare at the ball as if hypnotized by its strange beauty.  "A…Ash?" she advanced cautiously, laying a hand on his shoulder.

       The touch seemed to snap him out of his trance.  He dropped the ball and flew like the wind toward his fallen friend.  "Misty!" he cried, brushing past Dixie as if she weren’t there and rushing to Misty’s side.   "MISTY!"

       Misty’s eyes were open, gazing up at the sky with a glazed, unfocused look.  "Ash," she murmured… "I think I hear Ash…"

       "Misty," he pushed everyone else aside, dropping down and clutching her hand in his own.  "Misty, c’mon, it’s me.  Speak to me, Misty!"

       She looked up at him with a goofy smile spreading across her cracked, bleeding lips.  "Hey, there he is…" she giggled thickly.  "Hi Ash…" She seemed to consider his features for a moment, reaching up to his dirt-encrusted brow.   "You’re filthy…and your hat is gone."

       Despite the seriousness of her injuries, he chuckled.  "You don’t look so good yourself, Aqua Girl."  He informed her, nuzzling her hand to his face.  "You gave us quite the scare, there."

       Misty sobered instantly as the cogs in her foggy mind began to turn.  "Did we win?" she asked.  "Did we beat the bad guys?"

       Ash considered everything that had happened in the last few hours; How his destiny had come roaring back at him with a vengeance, how Team Rocket had almost killed the people that he loved…how close he had come to losing her.   "Yeah," he lied, stroking her cheek.  "We won."

       He stayed by her side until the rescue choppers were called in, and even after.  The entire time, Brock and Gary attended to Samurai as best they could, leaving Dixie to her own devices.  Through it all, neither Ash nor Misty noticed a hurt pair of eyes glaring jealously at them…they were in their own world for as long as life would allow them the quiet pause.
       * * *

       A chime sounded deep within the headquarters of Team Rocket, the most feared of the world’s organized crime syndicates.  It emanated from a small intercom sitting atop a highly polished oak desk, distracting the furniture’s owner from his stacks and stacks of reports.   An unwanted interruption would most certainly have been unwanted, and may have resulted in the death of a careless underling.  However, he had been expecting a visit to his underground, fortified office, and a quick check in his hidden video monitor told him that his appointment was right on time.

       "Enter," he called gruffly as he released the seventeen different locks on his door.  As the last locking bar slid away, the door opened to allow a youthful blonde clad in a black jumpsuit.  He entered quickly and q quietly, standing at attention in front of the man’s desk.

       "Delta, reporting as ordered, Mister Giovanni." The assassin snapped a crisp salute before returning to parade rest.

       "Sit down." Giovanni offered the chair on the other side, double-checking that the booby traps hidden within the seat were deactivated.  He pulled out the proper file, tossing it to the young man.  "I want a progress report on the status of Omega Red."

       "Of course, sir." Delta nodded.  He knew that the report Giovanni wanted was the one that he had just tossed to Delta, and he knew very well that they both knew what it said.  However, if Team Rocket’s commander wanted you to dress like Charlie Chaplin and tap dance, well, you’d be wise to find a black bowler and moustache.   "Alpha is currently on assignment in Rome.  I expect him back in three days or so, depending on the target’s security measures.  Tau has made a full recovery, and our scientists report that her new pseudomuscular system is at least fifty percent stronger than the last model."

       Giovanni nodded.  "What about that ugly business with Psi?"

       Delta couldn’t help but grimace.  "His regen treatments are complete.  He’s on vacation right now, and very seriously considering retirement."

       "Do whatever it takes to convince him otherwise.  I can’t afford to lose my disguise master, after all."

       "Yes sir."  Giovanni returned to his work, paying Delta no further attention.  The assassin hesitated only a moment before clearing his throat.  "Um, sir."

       "What is it?"

       "I doubt you would have called me down here to recite a report to you…"

       It was exactly what Giovanni had been waiting for; Delta was obedient, but not afraid to speak his mind, even to one as fearsome as he.  He flipped a switch behind his desk and pivoted to face the left wall.  In response, one of his portraits slid aside to reveal a video monitor.   "Quite right.  Tell me what you make of this."

       Images began flashing on the screen; the interior of a cave, dank and lit by artificial means, with people looking up at the camera.  One glowering, cherubic face in particular caught Delta’s eye.  "That’s the Ketchum boy." He blurted before remembering his place.

       Giovanni nodded.  "This is the telemetry taken from Omega’s vehicle shortly before his demise.

       Delta was floored.  "Commander Omega is dead?" he breathed.

       "Yes.  And I want you to be his replacement."  

       "I…I would be honored." Delta managed to eek out.  He cleared his throat, regaining his composure in an instant.  He wasn’t about to prove Giovanni’s choice a foolish one only moments after it was made.  "Shall I organize a team strike against the target, sir?   I won’t fail you where my predecessor did."

       "Keep watching." Was all that Giovanni said, pointing back at the monitor.  The scene continued to play out, including the battle with the fantastic creature that seemed to be made out of rock..  Then, without warning, something happened to the boy; he seemed to be engulfed in a blinding light, one that even Omega’s equipment had not been able to make sense of.   At first, Delta wrote it off as a flash bang, or perhaps some kind of electric shield generated by his Pikachu.  The more he watched, however, the more it became apparent that the nimbus of energy was emanating from him, that he was somehow producing the shield.   "I…I don’t understand."

       "You don’t have to." Giovanni told him flatly, handing him another manila folder.  "Here are your orders for the time being.  I’m reassigning Jessie and James to the Ketchum boy’s case.  Observation only.   In the meantime, Ash Ketchum is not to be harmed.  Understood?"

       "Yes sir."

       "Dismissed."

       Delta stood to leave, making for the door.  He paused as he was reaching for the knob, turning about.  "Sir?"  At Giovanni’s inquiring glance, he said, "I’d like to bring in a fifth man to round out the team roster."

       "Do you have someone in mind?"

       With a small smile, Delta replied, "I just might, sir."  That said, he left quickly, ready to attend to his new duties as Omega’s successor.  In the meantime, Giovanni had rewound the telemetry tape, freezing it at the point where Ash had begun to glow with the strange white aura.

       "So, Satoshi," he murmured, leaning his chin against his fists as he pondered his next move.  "You never told me you had a son.  Small wonder….It seems he inherited your ‘talents’, didn’t he?  Well," his face split into a bemused grin, "Where we failed with the father, we shall succeed with the son…won’t we, old partner?"
       * * *

       For the second time in as many days, Ash found himself standing in a courtroom, ready to defend his way of life against a system he had left behind months ago.  This time, however, he was dressed not as a defendant, but as a trainer; his tattered blue jeans, faded black T-shirt, black Silph jacket and half-demolished League hat.   His friends sat at the back, silent but supportive as he stood opposite Gary, Lorelei and Agatha in front of Judge Evans and his bulky bailiff.

       "Mr. Ketchum…" Judge Evans sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  "You’ve been a particularly aggravating case, young man.  You have very interesting, very loyal, and," he added with a glare towards the rear of the room, "Very foolish friends."

       "No objection here, your honor." Ash smiled, possibly for the only time that day.

       "I’m willing to drop the charges of fraud against your companions, Mr. Ketchum," Evans continued, "Assuming that you are willing to abide by the defense they concocted for you."  He saw Ash nod once, and rubbed his jaw in thought.   "Very well.  Would you like to make a closing statement?"

       "No, I don’t think so." Ash told him, standing with unnatural calm in his poise and voice.  "Considering the fact that I wasn’t here for the actual case, I don’t think it would be appropriate."

       Evans merely turned to Gary.  "Counselor?  Your closing statement."

       Gary strode to the front of the room with purpose in each step, never taking his eyes off of the judge.  "Your honor," he began, "It is in the opinion of the prosecution that the charges against Mr. Ashlan T. Ketchum be dropped immediately."

       "NO!" Lorelei practically leapt from her seat, but Evans’ banging gavel soon brought her under control.  She was told in no uncertain terms that she was to remain quiet, or suffer the consequences.

       "You honor," Gary continued, "I’ve seen more than my share of adventure and amazement in my lifetime.  I’ve seen creatures that would take your breath away, or make your blood run cold.  But it’s only a tenth of what this man has seen."   He gestured to Ash, still looking to Evans as he spoke.  "Ash Ketchum has helped people all over the world, in any way he can, without a single thought towards his own well-being.  With every person he meets, I truly believe that the first thing that runs through his mind is ‘How can I help this person?   How can I make their life better?’  Your honor, Ash Ketchum is a hero, a champion, and…a comrade."  At this, he gave a glance in Ash’s direction.  His old rival was astonished at the poetry of Gary’s words, but gave him an encouraging nod nonetheless.   "If you take away his license, you won’t just be doing him a disservice...You’ll be taking something away from everyone."

       Evans seemed to consider these words as everyone took their seats, waiting with bated breath.  "Very stirring words, Mr. Oak.  I take it that you’re advocating the dismissal of all charges, then?"

       Despite Agatha and Lorelei’s caustic glares, Gary answered, "Yes sir."

       "Well," Evans picked up a few sheets of paper, looking through them.  "You make quite a convincing argument, Mr. Oak.  Unfortunately," he peered over the rims of his spectacles, "Your first argument was far more powerful than this last-minute change of heart."

       "No!"

       It was Gary’s turn for an outburst, but Evans pushed on through as if he had never spoken.  Instead, his gaze fell on Ash, stern and icy.  "Mr. Ketchum, you may be a fine trainer…you may have even garnered the respect and admiration of some of this League’s finest competitors…but that does not change the fact that you, young man, have a blatant and utter disregard for the rules and regulations of the Indigo League."   He pulled up a rubber stamp, bringing it down on an officious-looking document.  "Your trainer’s license is hereby revoked.  You have ten days in which to transfer registration and ownership to a licensed trainer or breeder, and are forbidden from reapplying for an Indigo license for no less than five years.   I hope, for your sake and for the sake of your Pokémon, that you learn some responsibility and respect for the rules."  He hefted his gavel, pounding it on the bench before rising.  "Case dismissed."

       Agatha and Lorelei tossed Ash a smug glare before sauntering out of the room, leaving only Ash and Gary standing near the front.  Gary approached Ash slowly, unsure of where to begin.  Ash’s eyes were down, covered by a mess of black hair and the bill of his hat.   "Ash, I…I’m so sorry.  I never wanted it to be like this, Ash, I swear…"

       "Thanks Gary."  The voice escaped in an instant, cutting Gary off at the knees.  There was no sarcasm to it, no bitterness.  As he looked up, with tears threatening the edges of his vision, Gary could see honest thanks in his eyes.   "Thank you."

       With a swallow, Gary tried to sum up what he had wanted to say to Ash for the past year.  There was so much he had to say, so many apologies he needed to get out, but in the end, he summed it up best; "I’ve always been your rival, Ash.   But I’m tired of being your enemy.  I…I’d like to be your friend."

       "You were never my enemy, Gary." Ash’s hand thrust between the two, which Gary gladly took.  "My enemies try to kill me.  Last I checked, you never did that."

       The humor brought a sardonic chuckle between the two as Brock, Dixie and Pikachu approached, pushing Misty ahead of them.  She had raised fire and brimstone when the hospital had insisted that she remain confined in a wheelchair until the regeneration treatments were completed, but the forceful nurses had won out in the end.   "Looks like you two have patched things up," the now raven-haired redhead smirked.

       "’Bout time, too." Brock added.  Dixie was unusually quiet, which worried Ash a bit.  She had been so ever since the battle the day before, but he chalked it up to the oddity of the situation.  After all, he had been given a year to get used to the idea.   She had gotten less than twenty-four hours so far.  "So," Brock asked, "What’s the plan?"

       "I’m heading back to the island with the Elite Two there." Gary piped in, gathering his files and tucking them under his arm.  "There are some things I can look into, some people I can get in contact with."  His jaw set tightly as he looked to Ash.   "After seeing something like that, I can’t just stand around and do nothing.  I want to help."  At Ash’s nod, he added, "Oh, but first things first, I need to set up a press conference."

       "A what?" Misty asked, confused as the rest of them.

       "Everyone deserves to know the truth." Gary reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, yellow and black badge with the stylized league ‘L’ in the center.  "I didn’t do anything to deserve this.  Here."  He tossed it back to Ash.   Though his mannerisms were casual, they could hear the strain in his voice.  "You keep it.  It was never mine to begin with."

       Ash caught the badge, turning it over in his fingers as Gary left the scene.  Things were changing so fast that his head couldn’t help.  But at the same time, he was glad; some of the changes were more than welcome.   "C’mon, guys," he said, tucking the badge into his jacket before pushing Misty in her wheelchair, "We’ve got-"

       "Ash," Gear interjected his heroic walk-into-the-sunset mood, "I hate to interrupt, but Dixie has received an e-mail."

       The trivial comment caught Ash off-guard.  "Huh?  Oh, hang on."  He began working Gear loose from his wrist.  "We’ll give you some privacy, and-"

       "Ash, you…" Gear seemed almost apologetic, as much so as a watch could.  "You may want to see it as well."  Before he could say anything else, Gear activated her screen, playing the message Dixie had received.   The image flickered for a moment before coalescing into a familiar young man with sandy brown hair and large, sad eyes.

       "To Ms. Mason," the boy spoke softly.  "In response to your message yesterday."

       "Richie?" Ash, Misty and Brock gasped in unison.  They hadn’t heard anything from him since he had been taken by the paramedics at Mount Moon, and suddenly he was calling Dixie.  The even bigger shock, though, was Dixie’s reaction.   She looked at the tiny screen with watering eyes, hardly recognizing the person on the other end.

       "Ricky?" she sniffed.
       * * *

       "So, you have failed in your mission."

       Shades ignored the comment, standing before the Americorp council once again.  This time, though, he was alone.  With a sickening feeling, he realized just how alone he was.

       Spike was dead.

       "You realize, of course," The shadowy speaker continued, "That none of your standard fees will be honored.  In addition, we will disavow any prior dealings with you.  Any attempt to force the matter will be met with most ‘unpleasant’ reactions.   On a personal note," he added darkly, "We are deeply disappointed with the way you and your partner handled this particular case.  I do not believe Americorp will be calling upon your particular services again, Mr. Shades."

       "So it’s the pink slip, huh?" Shades growled.

       "You are dismissed." The entire room blacked out, leaving Shades standing in just enough light to find the door.  He strode out, filled with bitterness and blinding anger.  Exiting the meeting room, he was forced to walk the long corridor by himself, with only his thoughts to comfort him.

       Those children.

       Those BLASTED children!

       "Kind of makes you mad, doesn’t it?"

       The unexpected voice stopped Shades in his tracks.  His gun was drawn even before he turned to meet the stranger, wondering if Americorp had decided to ensure his silence the old fashioned way.  Instead, he found a blonde, tall man with sparkling blue eyes and a red-and-black jumpsuit leaning against the wall.   He wore a bemused grin on his face and a sidearm strapped to his hip that his crossed arms couldn’t reach if Shades so decided.

       Shades regarded the man, never letting his pistol drift off-target.  His eyes narrowed behind his trademark glasses as he pressed gently on the trigger, hovering a few ounces away from firing.  "And you are?"

       "Delta.  A pleasure, Mr. Shades."  He indicated the gun.  "I’d shake your hand, but something tells me you aren’t happy to see me."

       "You Team Rocket types screwed the mission up.  You cost me my partner."

       He shrugged.  "I could say the same for you, Shades.  But we both know who’s really responsible."

       "The children."

       "That’s the way I see it."  Delta had lamented his hesitation to kill Ash for months now, and he intended on rectifying the decision.  Honor or no honor, debt or no debt, orders or no, the boy would die.  "Now, I’m a hand short, and you…well, it looks like you could use a career change."

       Shades eyeballed the assassin carefully.  At last, he lowered his gun, keeping it close at his side.  "How do I know I can trust you?" he finally asked.

       "You can’t.  But what do you have to lose?"

       Shades’ thoughts drifted back to his departed partner.  Spike had been the only person he could confide in, the only one he had trusted.  With him gone, where did he go now?  "What indeed?" he finally admitted, offering up the handshake Delta had been unable to give.

       Delta took his olive hand, shaking it briskly with a warm smile.  "Welcome to the team," he greeted the newest Omega Red, "Agent Sigma."
End

-Quiet Hindsight-
And thus concludes an epic chapter in the BadgeQuest saga!  Yes, I know I’m full of myself, but that’s okay once in a while, isn’t it?



I’ll assume that your deadpanned silence is a rousing agreement.  Anywho, coming up next time is the season finale of BadgeQuest Season Two.  So stay tuned, same Pika-time, same Pika-channel!

Next: BadgeQuest: The America Chronicles #7
The Big Goodbye