Chapter 13

	“One of you is the Pokemon Master that we seek.” The Seer’s words lanced into 
the ears of every captive trainer. “I have foreseen it. We had hoped that the outside world 
might believe you all dead. Unfortunately, many are still searching for you. The blinded 
do not concern us. They will never find us here . . . however, there are still a few trainers 
missing. A few stragglers left to apprehend. It will be more difficult to obtain them now, 
the authorities with their lights are searching every town. But, we cannot delay any 
longer. We must press forward.”
	The Seer lulled for a moment. His head moved back and forth from one row of 
trainers to the next.
	Misty felt terribly vulnerable; it was like he was scanning each one of them 
individually. . . peering inside their minds. An uncontrollable shudder racked throughout 
her body. 
	Gary felt her tiny fingers tremble within his grip. Like before, all he could manage 
was a reassuring squeeze. Only this time Misty returned the gesture, clasping his secure 
hand as tightly as she could. 
	She was not alone. 
	She felt stronger. *I’m NOT alone. NOT alone.* That feeling gave her sense of 
assurance . . . no matter how small.
	“We must press forward,” The Seer went on. “We must find out which one of you 
he seeks,” his tone was emotionless. “Tomorrow the battling will begin. Most of you 
have already been made to battle. It was important that we observe his selections, be 
certain they were precise. Ending each day of battling, those who cooperate will be 
rewarded with full medical attention, a hot shower, and a meal. Those who FAIL to 
comply will witness their own Pokemon die and then be rid of them self. We have no 
further time for resistance. Also: you will NOT be using your own Pokemon to battle. 
The Pokemon you battle with are ours, and will be given to you at random. We must 
evaluate your skills and knowledge together. The one I see can bring a Feraligatr down 
with a Magby. When the entirety of battling is over, and The Revival has been a success, 
those not chosen will be considered for release along with their Pokemon. But be warned: 
if we believe that anyone has lost on purpose they will be instantly slain. The fate of the 
winner will be a glorious one. . . The Revival!”
	Misty and Gary swapped frightened looks, their minds were throbbing with 
disorder. They were possibly more confused now then they had been before coming to 
this ‘meeting’.
	*What is this REVIVAL?! Who ARE these people?! What about that beast?!*
	Misty wanted to blare her questions out! To insist upon answers! Only . . . she 
didn’t dare to question this Seer -- not when he controlled the fates of her poor Pokemon.
	Abruptly, a row away, Lance the Dragon Master shook his head of blazing red 
hair. “No,” Lance’s voiced thundered with unrelenting rage. “You have not explained a 
damn thing to us. Who the hell are you people? Some sort of cult?! Look what you have 
done . . . there are children here! CHILDREN! Keep me if you want to, hold us adults, 
but let these children and these Pokemon go free. For God sake!”
	The Seer pointed a threatening finger at Lance. “Silence, you blind fool. We are 
doing this for Gods sake. You are not worthy of such answers. Prove yourself to be the 
one he seeks and then I shall regard your pitiful words.”
	*WHAT?*
	As though on cue to The Seers tidings, a shrouded man approached Lance and 
roughly tied a gag around his face which rendered him unable to speak.
	“When he sleeps, only when the sun goes down . . . his savage side will hunt for 
the one he seeks. We will serve his desires and control what he gives,” The Seers voice 
was almost joyful. “Tomorrow it begins. Battle with all your might, young trainers . . . for 
we have waited A LONG TIME for you.”
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	Following Ash’s ‘goodbyes’ to his Pokemon he had transported his reluctant 
Squirtle back to the Fire Rescue department. It was not easy commanding Squirtle to go 
back into his Pokeball . . . and it was far tougher knowing that this might be the last time 
he ever saw Squirtle again. Next to Pikachu, Squirtle was one of the dearest to his heart. 
Ash wished there were a way to guarantee that his Pokemon would remain safe in his 
presence -- but there wasn’t. If his Pokemon stayed with him they could very well be 
endorsing their own death warrants.
	Ash walked quickly into Professor Oak’s kitchen and began rummaging through 
his refrigerator. He had forgotten to pack food when he was hastily leaving his own 
home. Even though home was just down the road, Ash was not about to go back for food. 
Not now that he had finally gotten his mother to let him leave . . . and she finally believed 
how responsible he was. Going back for snacks would make him look like a baby. 
	Ash stood at the counter, clumsily preparing some peanut butter and jelly 
sandwiches. A mournful pang roamed about his heart. . . 
	*Brock makes really good sandwiches.*
	Brock had always taken care of him; from the moment they left Pewter City 
together four whole years ago. They had become immediate friends, bent over backwards 
for one another. Brock had always made great tasting, nutritious foods with ease. . . now 
Ash stood making a pathetic peanut butter and jelly sandwich. . . it was all he knew how 
to make.
	 To simply say that Ash missed Brock would be a grievous understatement. 
	Ash ached to hear Brock’s steady voice. He marveled at Brock’s consistently 
strategic mind . . . he desperately needed to know that, without a doubt, Brock would 
always have answers for him. Ash would give up all is badges to just watch Brock fall 
head-over-heels for a pretty girl again. 
	Brock had always encouraged him, genuinely cared for him . . . shared the losses 
with equal sadness, shared the victories with equal joy. Brock never hesitated to educate 
Ash about Pokemon -- sharing his own knowledge and experiences. *He’s my partner in 
crime,* Ash mused to himself, a grin tugging on his lips.*I never would have made it as 
far as I did in any of the league games without Brock . . . without his guidance . . . his 
confidence. He really believes in me.*
	Ash stared hard at his messy little sandwich . . .  *Funny how a little thing like a 
sandwich can bring back so many memories.*
	The merry sound of laughter rose from the next room. Professor Oak had 
accidentally left his television set on. He and Togepi were not yet home from Viridian 
City. 
	 Ash frowned bitterly as he wrapped his new sandwiches. He was not in the mood 
to listen to the cheerful events on the cartoon show. 
	Suddenly the laughter was sliced off (it was common these days) as news report 
interrupted the cartoon. 
	“This is Angi Porter reporting live from Cinnabar Island. . .”
	Though dreading the news, Ash automatically walked over to the television.
	*What now? Blaine was already kidnapped.*
	“It has been confirmed that Giovanni of Viridian City is now missing along with 
Whitney of Goldenrod. Jasmine, of Olivine City, is the one and only gym leader in all of 
Kanto and Johto who has not been abducted. . .”
	*At least as of yet,* Ash grumbled to himself.
	“Police have evacuated Jasmine to a maximum security facility on Cinnabar 
Island. Private investigators and special force units from around the globe have been 
called into action, standing guard. No one is permitted on the island; and all if its regular 
inhabitants have been vacated to the mainland. Police are certain that the kidnaper will 
come for Jasmine. When this occurs the police will no doubt apprehend the criminal at 
last.”
	Ash flicked the television off. . .  
	. . . He knew exactly what he was going to do.