Having made it through Henna Villa, Kenta and Valtor now continued along the dirt path leading east. Kenta pointed up ahead for his to see brother, where the terrain took a steep dive downwards. “That’s where it happened. Right on that spot.”

“So did you win?”

“Win? Oh, no.” Kenta waved his hand, as if brushing off a stupid question. “Boris was too out of it, and Bolt failed to learn the move on time. The Magneton swarmed over us, and everyone except Boris’s Pupitar got zapped to death where we stood.”

“Oh.” Valtor lowered his head, horrified at what he’d just heard. Then his mind caught up with Kenta’s statement.

“ . . . You ass.”

Kenta snickered, grinning from ear to ear with a rogue smirk. “Ha, ha, you actually believed me for a second! See, this is why I like having you around.”

“Not cool,” grumbled Valtor. “What really happened?”

“Heh, heh, heh.” Kenta took a moment to compose himself, then cleared his throat. “Sorry. In the end, Bolt learned the super move, and every Magneton coming at us did a U-turn after feeling the force of a Salamence’s strength. It’s like Champion Lance always says: you don’t mess with a dragon. Oh, and speak of the devil-”

Valtor was amazed at how fast Bolt returned. One moment he was a speck in the distant sky, and the next, he was right on top of the two trainers. With a great flap of his wings, Bolt halted his forward momentum, and Valtor was nearly blown off his feet from the resulting blast of wind.

Kenta’s former smile was gone, and his body tensed as he readied for action. “What’d you spot, Bolt?” he asked sharply. “Is there some sort of trouble up ahead?”

The Salamence nodded. Kenta’s eyes narrowed. “Can we afford a head-on? Or do we go covert?”

Bolt lowered his head and flattened his wings. Kenta nodded and faced Valtor, who wore the same wide-eyed look he always did when his brother surprised him. “Break’s over, Valtor. Keep low. We’re going to move forward, quickly and stealthily, until we can see what we’re up against. Time to move.”

Without another word, he knelt into a crouching posture and shot forward, moving quickly over the slope and downhill into the grassy valley below. Valtor followed him, feeling highly uncomfortable at the idea of rushing straight into danger. He didn’t speak until the two of them had planted themselves behind a nearby boulder a few seconds later, when Kenta had waved him over.

“Kenta! What if we run into a crazed Magneton in the grass or som-”

“Ssh! Keep your voice down.” Kenta pointed around the side of their boulder. “Check that out. We won’t be going into the tall grass.”

Valtor looked. The dirt road ran down the incline and into the valley, but it curved to the left just before reaching the tall grass. Parked around the spot of the curve were three patrol cars and one enormous sixteen-wheeler truck. Standing a few feet away, a group of police officers were pointing and shouting at someone standing opposite of them; a young man with spiked gray hair. Even as Valtor watched, the officers threw pokéballs out in front of them, and the young man did the same. From the cops’ side, pokémon emerged from their capsules, which Valtor recognized as a Sandslash, Growlithe, Graveler, another Sandslash, a Dugtrio, and another Growlithe. The young man’s opposing pokémon was a metallic bird with sharp wings, which Valtor identified as a Skarmory.

“Looks like a scuffle between the police and some college-age kid,” whispered Valtor, glancing up at Kenta. “But why would he challenge six officers like that? He can’t possibly hope to win against those numbers!”

Valtor was about to say something else, but he forgot everything as he noticed Kenta’s expression. He was standing stock-still, eyes wide and staring, mouth slightly ajar with bewilderment. “Maybe he can,” Kenta barely whispered. “I can’t believe it. Do you know who that man is?”

Valtor shook his head slowly.

“He championed the Hoenn League until about three years ago. He was a prodigy with Steel-type pokémon! What’s he doing all the way out here?”

Steven Stone.

In a moment, Kenta darted out from behind their boulder and was charging straight down the slope before Valtor knew it. “Stay there!” he called to Valtor as he went, putting two fingers in his mouth. Valtor heard him whistle, and an overhead draft suddenly pushed his body down with its force. Bolt’s shadow swept under his feet, and Valtor watched in fear and helplessness as trainer and pokémon rushed to Steven’s side.

Kenta skidded to a halt between the two parties about to battle, his hands up in a gesture to keep anyone from doing anything. “Hold up!” he panted, as the wind from his sprint vanished from his gut. “What’s . . . going on?”

So much for going covert.

Nobody spoke for a second, then one of the officers pointed at Kenta. “Look at that. Did he have reinforcements?”

“Brendan!” cried Steven, looking stunned. “What are . . . what are you doing here?!”

Kenta leaped backwards so that he was at Steven’s side, and looked him full in the face. “Quickly,” he said hurriedly, “I need to know what you’re doing here first!”

Steven stared at him. “Wait . . . you’re not Brendan Birch.”

“There’ll be time for that later. Why are you fighting them?”

“Hey! You!” One of the police officers pointed angrily at Kenta. “Get out of here! Celebrity or not, that man is interfering with official business. Stand down at once!”

“They’re burning the wild Magneton out here!” Steven shouted back furiously. “After already fighting them unconscious! It’s euthanasia!”

Kenta lost feeling in his body. For a moment, all he could feel was a dull tingle running up and down his arms and legs.

No . . .

“These creatures are a hazard to the lives of every citizen in Henna Villa!” barked another officer. “For as long as they live, these Magneton will continue to return and wreak havoc. This is the only way to stop them for good!”

“Just because they don’t look like other animals doesn’t make them any less of living things!” cried Steven in return. “Steel-types have always been looked at without pity, because they resemble machines. I’ve seen it all! I know the cruelty of you people!”

“Enough of this,” snapped the first officer. “Graveler. Use Rock Throw on his Skarmory!”

“Sandslash, Slash attack!”

“Dugtrio, Rock Slide!”

In a moment’s time, three attacks were shooting straight at Steven’s pokémon, and that’s when Kenta regained himself.

“BOLT!”

Skarmory wheeled and dodged to avoid its enemy’s offenses, but Kenta could hear scrapes and clangs as claws and rocks smashed against the bird’s steel flesh. They were loud at first, but in a second, they were considerably softer. It was as if the enemy was holding back for some reason.

Steven turned his head, looking astonished at Kenta’s action. “What in the . . . ?”

Bolt was hovering right over Kenta’s head, wings fully extended, bearing claws and fangs, and uttering a deep-throated growl full of threat. His Intimidate ability had kicked in, and on the opposite side, the Ground-type pokémon cowered back in fright at their immense new foe.

“I see you’ve got friendly intentions,” muttered Steven from beside Kenta, shooting him a quick smile. “I’ll take the offensive, then.” He turned his attention back to the battle. “Aim for the Graveler, Skarmory! Steel Wing!”

Kenta didn’t see the attack hit. Skarmory was suddenly gone, and the boulder pokémon on the opposite side was flung backwards by seemingly nothing, with chips of stone flying from its hide. Just like that, Graveler was down, and the officer recalled his beaten pokémon with a grunt of fury.

“No matter,” said another of the uniformed men, pointing at Skarmory. “We don’t need physical attacks. Growlithe, Flamethrower!”

“Growlithe, Overheat!”

Time to unleash that special move . . .

“Do it, Bolt!” Kenta shouted, bracing himself. “Earthquake!”

Even as the flames licked from the Growlithes’ mouths, Bolt shot up high into the sky, then bulleted down with all the force of a five-ton bomb. Skarmory wheeled around the Flamethrower attack, but the other Overheat struck it full on, lighting the bird in an orange glow from the absolute heat. That was when Bolt smashed the ground on all fours, sending a shockwave through the earth that rattled everything within a fifty-foot diameter. Kenta jumped as high as he could to avoid the tremor, and waved his arms frantically as he came back down and felt the ground continue to quake. When it had ceased after about ten seconds, he looked up from his feet to see what damage had been caused. Last time it had been devastating; about sixty or seventy Magneton were jumbled so badly by the tremor that they’d disassembled from relentless rattling.

This time, the results were lesser, but still deadly. Both Growlithe were lying on their sides, their tongues hanging out, shaken into submission. The enemy Dugtrio was also down; its three heads were slumped to the ground, and swirls of defeat were present in all six eyes. Still standing, but on all fours with shaking limbs, were the two Sandslash.

Kenta checked beside him, concerned for Steven’s Skarmory. The metallic bird was still up in the air, glowing from its last devastating attack, but holding on with a grimace. Kenta let himself relax momentarily. It’s good my teammate was using a Flying- type, he thought grimly. He’s taken enough damage without Earthquake’s raw power tacked on.

The officers made shouts of angry exclamation, and Kenta heard one mutter something to the effect of “this is why they shouldn’t have taken our guns.” One of the Growlithe trainers pulled out his pokéball and recalled his fallen canine, then looked to his colleagues. “Fall back,” he instructed. “Guard the package.” The others nodded and recalled their beaten pokémon, then turned and raced for their patrol cars.

Steven turned hastily to Kenta, looking alarmed. “They must mean that truck!” he exclaimed, pointing as the entire squad of cars gunned their engines almost synchronously. “That’s where they’ve thrown all the Magneton they slaughtered. They must have over a hundred in there!”

So that’s how we beat them so easily, thought Kenta. They were fighting Magneton before I got here. They must be low on pokémon power!

“Skarmory, return.” Steven held out a pokéball and withdrew his scalded bird into a beam of red light. He glared furiously as the squad cars took off, with three in front of the holding truck and three behind. “Damn it. All I’ve got left is my Aggron, and he’s not fast enough to catch them. They’re going to get away!”

“The hell they are,” gritted Kenta, thinking quickly. I can’t just have Bolt bust open that truck, because what’ll we do then? Knock out six cops and the truck driver? Never . . . I will NOT stoop to criminal actions! There has to be a better way!

His eyes turned to Steven, and suddenly- an epiphany struck him.

“Say . . . does your Aggron happen to know Dig?”

***

The police truck driver noticed that all three cars in front of him were slowing down. He strained his eyes and searched ahead, wondering what could be the problem. He soon saw for himself; something was in the dirt road, taking up the whole driving space and then some. It was black and white, and absolutely enormous; possibly one of the biggest land animals he’d ever seen in his life. But why would there be one here of all places? And why now, of all times?

Kenta and Valtor watched from behind a rocky outcrop as the squadron of police vehicles inched to a complete halt. Valtor glanced down at the Everstone in his hand, which until a few minutes ago, had been strung around his Munchlax’s neck. He looked uncertainly at Kenta, who was still watching the dirt road with intense interest.

“Bro?”

“Yeah?”

“I understand that it couldn’t be helped, when Bolt evolved, but . . . but we removed an Everstone deliberately, this time. We’re lawbreakers, no matter how you look at it.”

Kenta shook his head, watching as the police blared their horns in an attempt to scare his brother’s new Snorlax off the road. “The law should be for the benefit of all the people under it,” he answered adamantly. “Not for the few people with the power. Ah, right on time-”

Valtor looked. The six police officers and the truck driver had gotten out of their cars to go push Snorlax out of the way. Below the truck, out of sight to anyone not looking, the ground pushed up and a metallic horned head appeared. Valtor watched as Steven’s Aggron raked the underside of the truck with its Metal Claw attack, easily cutting through the softer metal with its power. The steel behemoth of a pokémon hastily began hauling limp Magneton from the hole and pulling each and every one underground. So far, Kenta’s plan was going amazingly smooth. The police apparently hadn’t even noticed the single loud scrape of Metal Claw, from all their yelling to move Snorlax. Feeling he could relax for the moment, Valtor looked back at Kenta, wanting to return to the issue of being a lawbreaker.

“Even if you say that . . .”

“I know. I know.” Kenta looked at Valtor sadly, with a defeated expression on his face. He heaved a sigh. “Alright. This is the last time we make exceptions. From here on out, we go straight.” His eyes hardened. “But I have my priorities. When the time comes, I WILL choose the Greater Law.”

“The Greater Law?” echoed Valtor, curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Love.” Kenta’s eyes burned passionately as he spoke the one word. “No law is higher than a loving relationship. The bond shared between a pokémon and its trainer is exactly that; a love with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. It’s what allows us to endure in battles, when strategy has been stretched to its limit. It’s what makes us do things that the rest of the world may deem strange, such as sacrificing your own life for another.”

Kenta lowered his head. “That’s what Baku was willing to do for me, up to the very last time we saw one another,” he whispered, his eyes brimming. “He threw himself in front of an exploding Electrode, to make sure I wouldn’t get hurt. Greater love has no one than that. I don’t deserve him. I really hope they’re treating him well, right now.”

Valtor had never seen his brother shed tears before. This in itself was no great surprise, since Kenta probably believed that letting Valtor see him like this would destroy his macho image. But right now, thought it might have been because of the pressure that Kenta was under, Valtor still felt distinctly moved by his brother’s show of tenderness. Over their past few hours together, Kenta had seemed little other than cold and formal with his pokémon. For Valtor, it was good to know that he wasn’t really like this at heart.

The brothers took a moment to glance down at Aggron’s hole, but where the steel beast had been working before, there was now only a cover of overturned soil. Kenta sniffed loudly, hastily wiped an arm across his face, then stood up with a set expression. “Right,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “time to move Snorlax out of their path. Valtor, remind me to make more pokéblocks after this.” He tossed the red candy cube as hard as he could, and it landed and rolled a dozen or so yards away from Snorlax. Noticing the brightly-colored snack, Snorlax hefted himself to his feet with a deep grunt and pounded eagerly towards the pokéblock, sending the officers and pokémon who’d been pushing him toppling into the dirt. The policemen looked at each other, baffled, and one shrugged. “Looks like he’s distracted. Let’s move quickly, in case he comes back.”

Not wasting another minute, the cops hurried back into their patrol cars and gunned the engines, all taking off at once in a great dust cloud. Kenta and Valtor watched them until they had become specks in the distance, and only then did they crawl out of hiding. Kenta strode to the road-spot of freshly dug-up soil and stomped his foot beside the hole cover. “It’s okay,” he called into the ground, “they’re gone, open up.” They waited for a couple of seconds, and then Aggron’s horns popped out from below the road, followed by his head. The gray-haired head of Steven Stone also appeared a moment later, turned the wrong way. He twisted around, looking up at Kenta and Valtor with a somber expression.

“No survivors. I couldn’t even spark one of them back to life.”

“I’m sorry,” said Valtor softly, and Kenta lowered his head in respect for the dead. Steven’s expression turned slightly colder. “So, ‘Brendan,’ I did what you told me,” he said in a flat voice. “Now that we have them all lumped together in this grave down here, tell me what we’ve gained from this. No-” He put out his hand as Kenta opened his mouth. “First, before anything else, tell me who you really are.”

Valtor looked at Kenta, wondering what he was going to do. He’d need to make a habit out of lying if he planned on staying alive, but this was different. Steven had helped them. Feeling his head nod, Valtor realized he was subconsciously urging his brother to do the right thing. Kenta glanced at him, sighed softly, and looked back at Steven.

“My name is Sergeant Kenta Daitan. I was last in service two months ago during the Silph Incident, and the only police officer reported dead. Only a handful of people know that I’m alive right now, including you as of this moment.”

Steven’s lips stretched into an oval shape as his eyes widened, and he muttered a quiet “oh.” Kenta proceeded to explain everything else to him, leaving out the sentimental bits and staying as practical as he could. From the reason he was dressed like Brendan Birch, to the password for getting to Kurt, to the Master Ball replication plan, Kenta explained in as short an order as he knew how. Valtor listened closely, having heard it all before, but still finding merit in how everything was steadily coming together.

“So that’s why we need these Magneton,” Kenta finished, putting out his arms in a reasoning gesture. “Since they’re dead anyway, Kurt can examine them to see if they’re Master Ball material. If it turns out they are, well . . .” He looked away, sadly. “The plan isn’t ruined, but it’ll be hindered.”

Steven and Aggron sat across from him, rapt with attention, looking horrified. Kenta swallowed with difficulty, knowing the next question would be painful to ask. Taking a deep breath, he forced it out. “Steven, please . . . seeing as to how these Magneton have all passed on, won’t you let us turn them into Master Balls if they are the right material?”

The former Hoenn champion stared at him with a look of mingled disbelief and suspicion. Kenta cringed on the inside. “I don’t like doing it,” he continued determinedly, “but it’s essential. And I swear, even if it’s not enough, I will never kill a Magneton or any other pokémon to harvest its power.”

Steven closed his eyes, and Kenta could hear a gurgle in his throat. It was clear that the other man was experiencing some inner moral struggle. “Why,” he finally asked, “should I believe you?”

“Please.”

Kenta and Steven turned and looked at Valtor, who was kneeling before the former champ. “You saw what those policemen were doing to the Magneton,” he pleaded. “They won’t even reason with you. In today’s world, you can’t put faith in your own government anymore. Where are your other pokémon?” He pointed to the hulking Aggron, and Skarmory’s pokéball on Steven’s belt. “Or are those your only two?”

Steven said nothing for a minute. When he spoke again, it was without looking at the Daitan brothers. “They’re going back to the wild,” he muttered halfheartedly. “Cradily, Armaldo, and Claydol. They’re going to be free.”

“That may or may not be,” stated Kenta, softly. “Either way, I notice you left one out. Tell me, what about your world-renowned Metagross? I hear Brendan was one of the only two people to ever beat it in battle.”

“They say he’s in good hands,” replied Steven, refusing to make eye contact. Kenta and Valtor exchanged glances. “Can you be sure of that?” asked Kenta, praying he wasn’t sounding pushy or paranoid. “If you saw him again, would you two even recognize each other?”

“Of course I’d recognize him!” barked Steven angrily. “He has a vertical scar down his left eye. It’s his proudest battle wound.”

“No, no. I mean, by behavior.” Kenta addressed Steven grimly. “Team Rocket and Cipher both tried- and succeeded- in making their pokémon artificially more aggressive than they could ever naturally be. Have you ever seen the movie, Jacob’s Ladder? I’m not saying our own government would do that, but think about it. Why would they suddenly decide to collect a massive amount of powerful animals, which are trained to follow orders without question? Forget what they said about trainer safety for a moment. Our pokémon trainers are safe- now what? Where is all this power going? How will it be channeled?”

“You say it like I haven’t already thought it through,” accused Steven. “I’ve been to pokémon rehabilitation before. I know it works. Every powerful pokémon released to the wild doesn’t forget its trainer. They won’t hurt any other humans. They’ll act as ambassadors between us and untamed pokémon. That is how their power will be used.”

Silence elapsed for another minute. Valtor looked at Kenta; the latter appeared to be doing some deep thinking, by his distant expression. Steven didn’t wait long, but stood up and turned to his Aggron. “Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s go home.”

“After everything I’ve told you, is that all you have to say?” Kenta asked, feeling stunned and a little hurt at Steven’s lack of empathy. Steven recalled his Aggron into its ball, still not looking at either of them. “I will not reveal to anyone, who you are,” he declared firmly. “If you get caught and punished for treason because of me, it’ll feel like your blood is on my hands. And I don’t want that, in case you happen to be right.” Steven shook his head. “I hope you’re wrong. But after what I’ve seen and heard today, I need to be by myself to think.”

“It seems to me like you already made up your mind earlier,” said Kenta, as Skarmory reappeared out of Steven’s other pokéball. “I can only wonder how you knew that the police would be coming here today to attack the Magneton of the Henna Villa area. You were certainly prepared to oppose them then.”

“For all I know, you could’ve been there for the same reason they were,” Steven shot back, mounting his metallic bird. “I don’t know whose side to take anymore. But in any case, do what you want with the Magneton buried here. Desecrate their bodies. I can’t stop you in my present condition. Your Salamence knows Earthquake.”

“I’m not your enemy!” called Kenta insistently, as Steven and his Skarmory lifted off the ground. “I promise I have your best interests at heart. I know how you feel!”

But Steven was off, soaring away from the roadside scene at forty miles an hour. Kenta and Valtor stood in silence and watched him go, until they could no longer see him. Heaving a sigh, Kenta reached into his pocket and drew out his green cell phone. “Well, in spite of all that, this still turned out better than I dared hope,” he said sadly, dialing Kurt’s number.

“How?” asked Valtor, watching him press the buttons.

“How? Valtor, we now know those police were shipping dead Magneton. It might not be proof to anyone else, but it’s proof to us that they’re using these creatures for their bodies. If all goes well, this might completely vindicate us later . . . hello, my friend.”

As Kenta spoke to the old apricorn craftsman over the phone, Valtor pulled out his Heavy Ball and recalled his new Snorlax. Kenta’s Salamence knew how to hide, but if anyone saw Snorlax hanging out with him, Valtor feared getting busted. They were in up to their necks as it was.

“Yeah,” Kenta was saying, “I’ll take a picture and send it to you now. You’ll have to come here to get them, so be sure to bring plenty of apricorn balls with you.” He stopped. “I think about a hundred. Yes, I know it’s insane . . . do you even have that many balls made? . . . Oh, I see. Well, I don’t like to burst your confidence, but you’ll still have nothing left over after the tide of trainers that’ll be coming through your door. Never mind though, we’ll worry about that later. For now, can Curtis come and get them? . . . Good, he’ll need to bring a shovel. And another thing, you should hurry. We’ve only got so long before those cops realize their luggage is gone. I hope you’ve got a darn good flying pokémon ready . . . okay, yeah, that works.”

A minute later, Kenta snapped his phone shut and looked at Valtor. “Curtis coming on his Fearow,” he explained, “but we won’t be around to greet him when he gets here. We have to hurry up and get to our next destination.” At the sound of the news, Valtor’s shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Kenta walked up and put a concerned arm around him, sensing it was time to be a responsible big brother. “I know you’re tired of being on the go all the time,” he said in as soothing a voice as he knew how. “But we can’t wait to do this. Every hour we wait, the outrage diminishes. Nothing but a strong willpower can win us this fight.”

Valtor nodded slowly. Kenta returned the nod, looking him in the eyes. “We’ll take a vacation after this. A long one. But for now, we have to get some soldiers on our side.”

“ . . . Where will we find them?”

“First, we go to the nearest pokémon fan club.” Kenta pointed in the direction of the sun, which was slowly beginning its descent. “We’re heading southwest. To Vermilion City.”