Disclaimer: Pokemon and all characters related to the game and the show do not belong to me. I don’t make any money out of this, so please don’t even think about dialing 1-800 LAWYERS. ^_^* Categories: R for romance, D for dark, and LS for long-short story Rating: PG-13+ (for loads of bloody, graphic violence, and some language) Author’s notes: Well, this is a departure from the usual type of fics that I write, posted and unposted. This story contains lots of action and violence, devoid of almost all the humor that usually comes with my writing. So don’t say you weren’t warned. As with my previous stories, the starting age for pokemon trainers is twelve, not ten, and this one follows the timeline of the show all the way up to, but not including, Ash’s last match of the League. A lot of the background info, however, is based on the game. This includes the existence of the Cinnabar Pokemon Mansion and the Hidden Dungeon, Silph Co. being taken over by Team Rocket unbeknownst to the people, and a small bit about pokemon’s power levels (which they never seem to mention at all in the anime). And finally, yes, for the first time (FIRST time, which implies a second, and a third, and a fourth... ^_^*), I’m breaking my infamous one-fic-in-progress-at-a-time policy, which is really terrible of me. -_-* Ow. I deserved that. Anyway, I just really, really had to get this one over with before my head exploded... so sit back, relax, and enjoy! ======= Prologue ======= “Ash, don’t do it!” Misty cried, shaking with fear at the sight of the pokemon that faced them. Twelve-year-old Ash Ketchum, with the usual overconfident grin on his face, thought that she once again considered him too weak of a trainer to try. But this was Cinnabar Island, the best place to capture fire pokemon, and he just couldn’t let this one pokemon, unique as it was, go. Besides that perfectly sane reason, he also hadn’t caught a new pokemon in too long a time, while the despicable Gary Oak had almost completed his pokedex, and if Ash’s pride couldn’t be saved by the capture of one pokemon, then he hoped a new friend in that pokemon could. “But Misty, I have to capture it!” “I think she’s right about not capturing it, Ash,” Brock interrupted, shattering Ash’s concentration. “It’s at such a high level. Let it go, man!” If Misty alone had told him not to capture it, Ash would have brushed it off as a joke. But with the combined intuition of two very experienced gym leaders, he felt the fear tugging playfully at his heart. They weren’t talking to him as mischievous friends; they were talking to him as good, levelheaded pokemon trainers. Yet Ash, for once, decided not to back out against the obviously unfavorable odds, feeling the need to break loose of the bonds that held him down. This was his pokemon journey- not theirs. What say did they have in it? They were, after all, the ones tagging along, and therefore they should be the ones listening to him. So ignoring common sense and choosing pride as the better part of the deal, Ash took an empty ultra ball in one hand and the pokeball containing Squirtle in the other. “It’s a unique growlithe! I gotta catch it!” “No, Ash!” Misty protested, and this time, she threw her arms around him from behind to prevent him from stepping any closer to his target. Ash suddenly felt his heart thumping wildly inside his chest, experiencing, for the first time, what it felt like to have this beautiful girl, the one he’d had the world’s biggest crush on for the longest time, put her arms around him. It almost worked. It almost stopped him completely, but damn, Brock just had to unwittingly intervene again by clamping a firm hand on Ash’s already outstretched arm. Ash was in and out of crush mode in a snap. “That growlithe has blue flames and black fur! Any good pokemon master wouldn’t dare let it go free! And since my goal is to become the world’s greatest pokemon master, I just can’t pass this chance up!” Brock only tried harder to pull Ash back. “Don’t, man! Don’t! That growlithe has to be at least at a level over one hundred and fifty, and none of your pokemon, or anyone else’s, are at even half that power!” “But I have to!” Ash fought his way, almost reluctantly, out of Misty’s embrace, and even with Pikachu tugging at his leg, he distanced himself from his friends and sent out Squirtle. Squirtle appeared confused at the sight of the strange growlithe, but it positioned itself in its best turtle fighting stance. Squirtle didn’t get the chance to fight because Pikachu was shouting like all the ketchup in the world was being stolen, and the growlithe suddenly vanished from their view. “PIKAPI!” “Huh? Where did it go?” Ash asked, looking frantically around the room and wondering how he could have let such a great find slip away so easily. For a few moments, the three young adventurers and their pokemon scanned their silent surroundings. It was unnaturally quiet, and all of them knew that the danger hadn’t passed yet. A glowing bluish-black figure suddenly darted from behind one pillar of the pokemon mansion to the next, just as the skies darkened outside with the arrival of moody storm clouds. It was the perfect setting for a tragedy. Then, all the world seemed to come to a screeching halt. “Ash! Look out!” Brock yelled, finally seeing what Pikachu had been trying to tell them from the very beginning. “Ash! NO!!!” Misty cried, running toward her friend, willing to give her life for him if she could, but knowing that she wouldn’t reach him in time. Startled by the urgency in his friends’ voices, Ash looked up to see the growlithe- it was HUGE- emerge from its hiding place behind a stone pillar. It pounced straight for Ash’s neck, razor claws and sharp teeth bared, blue flames searing its target’s bare skin, roaring for all it was worth. The last thing Ash remembered was his skull landing with a bone-smashing crack on the tiled floor of the pokemon mansion, followed by a sharp, ripping pain in his throat. Anything after that was too unbearably painful for his senses to keep functioning properly. And it turned out that Ash hadn’t been hunting the growlithe all along. It had been the one hunting him. ------------------- Lord of Fire ------------------- by Nova Thirteen past midnight, and the inky black sky reflected a bright, flickering orange light. The ill-fated city below that sky was in flames. Literally. Firemen from all across the region finally had their hands full in the city that never burned, dousing one block of houses with water and saving nothing but melted stone, only to find the next one already decaying on the ground as a pile of ashes. Panicked people ran madly into and out of their homes, saving valuables, saving money, saving caged pidgeys and trapped pet weepinbells. Unbeknownst to them, Team Rocket looters took advantage of the unprecedented chaos, stealing what valuables were left unguarded outside the burning stone houses and making off with frightened little children to recruit them for their criminal organization. Still more houses burned to the ground, and even with the aid of water trainers awakened in the middle of sleep from the neighboring Cerulean City, the unfortunate Pewter City, plagued by midnight fires, was in a state of despair, with very little left to save in it as the flames raged on. The flames dutifully followed the trail of a mournful howl. First, the residential areas that first heard the woeful voice were incinerated, and then the heat steadily approached the office district, just as the howling did. Soon, solid steel melted easily under each powerful fire spin attack, weakening the foundations of tall, supposedly unbreakable skyscrapers, sending the majestic buildings crashing to the ground in a halo of hungry flames. More buildings embraced the cool earth, until the cause of the chaos reached the front steps of City Hall. Surrounded by Captain Jenny’s from different cities and legions of other officers on every side, the lights flashing in its eyes and emergency sirens screaming in its sensitive ears, the unique and extremely powerful growlithe, with its shiny, jet black fur coat and blue flames for its mane and tail, sat at the intersection and howled at the full moon, its voice haunting and melancholy. Its sadness was almost enough to make people forget about the devastation it had caused within the hour, but even so, a few felt their hearts soften for this beautiful, unusual creature. And while Wild Pokemon Control (WPC) officers poised themselves with tranquilizer guns behind the policemen’s open car doors, they made no move to capture the growlithe until a signal was given by the proper authorities. The proper authorities for this national state of emergency happened to be the eighteen-year-old water master of Cerulean and the twenty-year-old rock master of Pewter, both seemingly too young to handle such a desperate situation, but both more than competent enough. But had the League Champion been present, he, though younger than almost everyone else present, would have had complete control over the capture of the wild growlithe. The growlithe, knowing that it was cornered, abruptly ended its sorrowful howls, and suddenly, it directed its gaze to the water master. Everyone was mesmerized as it walked toward her for a few moments, wondering what that huge puppy pokemon would do. The water master, for her part, had a cautious hand held over her pokeballs, but she didn’t need to use any of them, because an abrupt shot from a WPC officer’s gun interrupted the peaceful moments. The growlithe howled once more, not so much from pain as from anger, and with one gigantic roar, it spun around to face the trembling man who had fired the shot. For a split second, there was absolute silence as everyone held his or her breath, then the infuriated fire pokemon exhaled, engulfing the poor, clumsy official with a powerful fire blast. Everyone else was frozen to a spot, horrified at the nauseating smell of rapidly roasting flesh, and the brief, agonized screams of that one man who, in two long seconds, was reduced to a mere pile of ashes. No one heard the water master and the rock master yelling frantically for everyone to fire at will. No one *wanted* to hear, until the growlithe had leaped gracefully on to the roof of City Hall, chuckled contemptuously down at them all, and vanished out of sight. ***** Nine months later... The young man sat in the comforting darkness that the trees had to offer, gazing up at the winking light of the full moon, and wondering how long he could keep this secret. He had been the champion for six years now, and his secret had been with him for just as long. For all those years, he had managed to control it, pushed it under wraps every time it surfaced, but the last time that it had made an appearance, he had lost what little control he’d kept over it. As champion, his life had already been publicized beyond the point of recognition, but even if cameras and tabloids had obliterated almost all of his privacy, there was still that one part of him that no one knew about. The part of him that no one could ever know about. Only his best friends, his pokemon, knew. Though it shamed him not to reveal his true self to his best human friends, he felt that he had no choice in the matter, that telling them would make no difference at all. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them- he knew that he had loved her since the very beginning, though he still hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask her out, and he had always considered his other best human friend as the older brother he never had. It was just that he felt no need to give them any more grief, any more pain, than what the lives that they were presently leading were hurling at them. He knew that her family, behind the scenes of fame and stardom, was slowly being blackmailed to death by Team Rocket, and that his “brother’s” family was gradually losing its youngest members, one youngest after the last, to the afterlife, because of Team Rocket’s newest virus. As for his own disastrous life cleverly hidden beneath masks of perfection, the worst of it was that his mother was simply dying of a heart failure. _A broken heart._ he corrected himself. His mother was dying of a broken heart, knowing that he knew about Team Rocket’s evil activities and did nothing to stop them. Two weeks ago, she had fallen into a coma, perhaps out of her own guilt for not saying anything either, and one of the best of the worst things in his life was that he was flat broke after trying to support her in that luxurious ICU ward. After all that sorrow, and the promise of more to come, any more pain would throw all three best friends over the edge of sanity. Any more fears would send the men in white coats running to them, with chains, for checks. He took a deep breath as he felt it begin, the familiar tingling in his fingers, the shivers running up and down his spine, the thickness in the backs of his eyes. But he ignored these signs, knowing that he needed to be prepared for the worst of all the horrors in the world. Fingering the thick scar that mockingly wrapped itself around his throat, he smiled grimly as he unsheathed his sword. “Once in a blue moon, it comes.” In quick succession, he released all his pokemon, one from his backpack, the rest from their pokeballs, and their instincts immediately told them what was happening. They watched, with tense muscles and tense hearts, as their master leaped up on top of a large boulder at the edge of Saffron City’s river, sword clutched tightly in his gloved hand. In the gentle, midnight breeze, his black trench coat billowed behind him like a cape, and his longish hair of a color that matched the black sky stubbornly fell over his almond eyes. But instead of the usual frustration and the comic acting that followed any discomfort he felt, there was only silent determination, as if he were on the verge of another great adventure. Most likely his last. “I want you all to help me stop it. We only have a few minutes left until it comes,” he announced. Then, he turned to one of the first pokemon he had ever caught, who, after countless trials and endless rigorous training, finally obeyed him when he won the championship years ago. “Charizard.” The fire pokemon, the biggest and strongest of his winning team, apprehensively looked up at its trainer with sadness in its eyes. The dark-haired pokemon master managed a small smile, and he tossed the sword at the surprised pokemon’s feet. “Char?,“ it rumbled, a questioning tone in its deep, rough voice. “I want you to kill it,” the trainer stated simply. “Pikapi!” the electric mouse was the first to protest, followed instantly by a chorus of the others’ voices. “No,” the trainer said quietly, refusing to listen to any more of their cries, for fear that it would shatter his own heart. “For some reason, it evolved. I know it did. It’s more powerful and more dangerous. We should have killed it when it was younger. Maybe we should have killed it before it had a chance to change...” “Pika!” the pikachu shook its head vigorously, beginning to glow with a faint, electrifying light. “I know. You couldn’t have done it back then, and you still can’t do that now,” the trainer sighed. “I would kill it on my own, but I can’t. It’ll just find somewhere else to stay. After it first evolved, I said I needed the time to do research, which I did, and I found out more than I ever wanted to know. Then I promised myself a chance to explain it all to my friends, and after all the time I spent procrastinating about it, I discovered that I couldn’t even do that much for them. So in a way, this makes up for all my past sins.” All six pokemon had tears in their eyes, knowing what would come next. “Saur, bulba, bulbasaur? (But what about Brock?)” the plant pokemon demanded angrily, trying to find a way to win this losing battle. “Bulba, saur? Bulbasaur, bulba, saur, bulbasaur? Saur, bulbasaur, bulbasaur... (And Misty? What are we going to tell her? You know she loves you...)” The pikachu clamped a paw over its teammate’s renegade mouth a second too late. The young trainer felt his heart literally stop for a split-second, and he nearly fell into the cold waters of Saffron City’s river in shock. He hadn’t intended to find out too late, in this manner, that she returned his feelings, and that his one shot at happiness had been obscured by his naivete and pure foolishness years ago. Even so, the knowledge only made his decision that much more difficult. He shook himself awake and carefully maintained his balance on the slippery boulder. In barely a whisper, he replied, “Just tell her that I love her. With all my heart and soul. No matter what happens.” For a few moments, there was nothing but silence as they all looked at each other for what could very well be the last time. The young trainer hated his life, the downhill path that it was presently taking to meet his inevitable fate, but he knew, and his pokemon knew, that he would never ever give up a moment of it to be someone else with a perfect life. “I’ll do everything in my power to slow it down, but it has to die,” he said with finality, “at the hands of a fire pokemon. Charizard, I’m counting on you. Everyone is.” Charizard merely grunted in response, trying to appear strong. Its facade failed miserably as the charizard picked up the antique sword in its claws, the reluctance flaring into anger and hostility in its eyes. “Pikapi, pika, pika, chuuu. .. (Ash, please don’t make us do this...)” Pikachu pleaded desperately, the tears streaming down its cheeks. Eighteen-year-old Ash Ketchum, a pokemon master, a legendary champion, a ruined man, shook his head gently at his best pokemon friend. “You know we can’t do that. Even if it’s just once in a blue moon, Pikachu.” For a few, last moments of peace, he looked up at the sky, dim with all the clouds of sadness that he felt in his heart, and he tried to convince himself that there would be no more pain. “Just this once in a blue moon.” ***** The bright lights of the living room suddenly flooded her senses, blinding her even through closed eyelids, and she promptly fell off the sofa with a groan. She opened her eyes, squinting up at the spiky-haired figure that chuckled lightly before her with an outstretched hand. Tossing the long, reddish-orange locks of hair out of her aqua eyes, she indignantly brushed off her so-called friend’s help and stood on her own shaky legs. “Brock, just what the hell are you doing in my house!?” she cried furiously, daring to sneak a glance at the wall clock nearby before turning back to her uninvited guest. “At twelve-thirty at night!? And how did you get in?” “Chill out! Quit yelling, Misty,” Brock said, dangling a spare set of Misty’s house keys in front of her face. “I just used the keys you gave me.” Misty sighed, already exasperated. “Those were given to you and Ash for emergencies. Not because you’re drunk and you got thrown out of your own house.” Brock shook his head defensively, and Misty arched an eyebrow. Upon closer inspection, she noted that he was completely sober, and suddenly her heart began hammering frantically in her chest. “Oh no. This is the real thing, isn’t it? What’s going on, Brock? Did something happen to Ash? I don’t see him anywhere...” “Calm down, Misty,” Brock said. “It’s not about Ash.” She settled down, realized that she had practically given away the fact that she was hopelessly in love with Ash, and blushed. Smoothly, so smoothly that anyone else other than Brock or Ash wouldn’t have noticed her discomfort, she changed the direction of their conversation. “Did you call him?” “Yeah, but I got his machine. I called you, but you didn’t pick up either, and since I was in the vicinity of Cerulean City, and a water master was what the present situation warrants the most, I decided to drop by and caught you sleeping,” the older gym leader said, glancing at the wrinkled sofa that Misty had been lying on. “Speaking of which, haven’t you heard of beds?” Misty frowned. “Yeah, of course I have. I guess I must have dozed off on the couch. I was kinda busy working all day, and it was exhausting, trying to make enough money...” _To pay off your illegal, non-existent debts to Team Rocket._ Brock added silently. She must have read his mind, because she quickly switched topics again. “So what’s up? What do you need the water master to do?” “Simple. Do as I say, and fast. Freshen up, get dressed, grab your best water-based team, and I’ll explain everything on the way to Saffron City.” “Saffron?” Misty asked, giving Brock a suspicious look. It was a fact that Brock and Sabrina had been unofficially *trying* to see each other without drawing any media attention, so if Brock wanted to go to Sabrina’s town with another girl in the middle of the night, it just had to be serious. “Why?” “Just do it.” Misty fought the urge to say Nike, and she quickly did as he said. Five minutes later, the two gym leaders, mere acquaintances at the beginning of Ash’s journey, presently sharing a friendship thick as blood, were riding in Brock's jeep, driving south on the freeway at very illegal speeds. Of course, there was very little traffic at that time of the night, and the highway patrol officers recognized Brock’s jeep and let him pass without incident. They already knew about the problem in Saffron, and they were only relieved not to be called in to help with it. “So tell me what’s going on, Brock,” Misty said, shooting a calculating look at her older friend out of the corner of her eye. “Something Sabrina did? Something Haunter did?” “No, nothing about Sabrina or Haunter,” Brock said softly, careful to maintain a neutral expression, but Misty caught the traces of a small, proud smile at the corners of his mouth. It dissipated as the tone of his voice went back to business. “Remember that super powerful growlithe in Pewter City that went on a rampage a few months back?” “Yeah,” Misty nodded, trying to clear the cobwebs in her mind about the entire disaster. It had been eerie, to say the least, because she remembered the other incident years ago that involved Ash trying to catch that very same, very dangerous fire pokemon. She smiled bitterly. “The papers said it was one of the police dogs that went rabid or something, but that growlithe had different coloring, and it was much too big to be any ordinary police dog. It was a growlithe all right, but it was even bigger than a full-grown arcanine. And we all saw it before.” “Right,” Brock nodded, never taking his eyes off the road, but replaying the awful scene in Cinnabar Island years ago in front of his eyes. He shook his head to clear it, fighting down the restless dinner trying to escape from his stomach. He did not want Sabrina’s city to suffer the same damage as his own hometown. “Well, these past few months, Professor Oak has been doing research on that strange pokemon, and the world of pokemon itself, with Bill. They discovered that the pokemon world is governed by much more complex laws, and a more organized hierarchy than what was previously believed and accepted.” Misty swallowed hard. “And this is significant because?” Brock seemed to skip around her question. “The pokemon world is actually structured very much like the old Middle Ages classes. There’s the monarchy, which is composed of the three legendary birds Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres, and a few elite of the other different types. There’s the nobility, which Professor Oak and Bill have dubbed the ‘lord pokemon.’ And then there’s the peasant class, which is basically all the other pokemon that don’t fall into the other categories.” “So what exactly is the difference between a lord pokemon and a peasant pokemon?” “The peasant pokemon class has two groups: the peasants, meaning, not in any degrading way, the pokemon living in the wild, and the knights, the pokemon who have trainers and do battle,” Brock explained hastily. “Now the lord pokemon- they have a different story. They’re very rare, and they’re assigned to protect a small region of the planet. Usually, they’re quite a few sizes bigger than the average pokemon of their species, and they’re much more powerful.” “Is there any concrete proof of this?” Misty asked, torn between taking Brock’s explanation seriously, and bursting into peals of laughter at the sheer outrageousness of his story. Brock took a moment to respond. “Other than the three legendary birds, Professor Oak has seen a legendary pokemon before, and so has Bill. And so have we.” “We have?” Misty’s eyebrow shot up in surprise. “Yeah, we have,” Brock said slowly, taking even more time. He turned sharply into an exit ramp, driving crazily into the heart of Saffron City. Misty shrieked in surprise, prompting a mischievous grin from her driver. “Remember the first time we visited Bill in his lighthouse? That giant we saw was more than a lord pokemon. It was most likely THE legendary dragon pokemon, Dragonite.” “Yeah, but an eyewitness account isn’t enough proof...“ Misty stated lamely. “Well, we’ll have our proof soon enough,” Brock said, ignoring a red light and breezing past it, much to Misty’s dismay. A few car horns blared angrily after them, followed by a few curses and fists and fingers shaking in the air, but Brock couldn’t care less. Making a mental note not to have him in the driver’s seat ever again during a crisis, Misty asked, “So what does the structure of the pokemon world have to do with anything? Do you think that the growlithe we saw a few months ago and a few years ago was also a lord pokemon? Do the professor and Bill think that?” “A fire lord pokemon,” Brock nodded solemnly. “Definitely. But it just got worse.” “Why?” “Well... it evolved.” A few seconds ticked away before Misty spoke again, this time with a trembling voice. “But doesn’t it need a fire stone? I’ve read up on this stuff, and I know that growlithes are among the pokemon that have stone-induced evolutions. Fire stones don’t just fall out of the sky, and growlithes can’t just dig it up out of the ground like some sort of lost bone.” “You’re right about that,” Brock responded, “but that isn’t any ordinary growlithe. Besides, that’s the least of our worries. Last time, the growlithe was just a baby-“ “A really big baby,” Misty muttered. Brock smiled wryly at her comment and continued, “-and it flamed virtually all of Pewter City to dust, even though a lot of the buildings were made of rock.” “Thanks to your influence,” Misty grinned. Brock shrugged. “Anyway, now that the growlithe evolved, it won’t take long for the new arcanine to turn Saffron City into an inferno, and melt every innocent person alive in that city with it.” Both of them recalled the gruesome death of the WPC officer, followed by the hundreds of scenes of dying people, innocent men and women and children with third-degree burns that resulted in amputated limbs and twisted features. They remembered the ashes and the smell of cooking human flesh drifting ominously in the air, thick with death, and they shuddered at the same time. Undoubtedly, they had been among the lucky ones in that terrifying night. “How do you expect to find the growlithe, er, arcanine?” Misty asked, trying to think of anything else but the horrid images flashing in her mind’s eye. “We follow the flames,” Brock answered dryly, nodding his head toward the burning buildings that dotted Saffron City and the fire trucks and ambulances that continuously alerted people of the coming danger. “I think it’s headed for City Hall again, and that’s where the police and the trainers are waiting.” Misty reddened. She *had* seen all this before, so she shouldn’t have bothered to ask. “Oh, that’s right. I’ll just, um, call all the Cerulean water trainers.” ***** The beautiful yet sinister-looking twenty-two-year-old young woman wore a beige, long-sleeved shirt and black slacks tucked into shiny black boots. Her silky black hair dropped well past her waist, and her bangs almost completely covered her dark, piercing eyes, now blazing bright with her unrestrained anger. She looked decidedly out of place in the crowd of uniformed WPC officials, police officers, and firemen, but she was the one controlling the entire operation. Despite her seemingly innocent outward appearance, her presence could flood any person with a sense of awe and great respect. So, with her arms confidently folded across her abdomen, she placidly watched the fire approaching her carefully organized trap. “Two catastrophes, and Ash Ketchum isn’t present to even witness either one of them, let alone take charge of the situations,” Sabrina, the famous psychic master, muttered to herself. “I wonder if he has a fear of dogs.” “Don’t worry,” Captain Jenny of Saffron City said reassuringly, coming up behind the renowned gym leader. “I’m pretty sure he’ll come. Brock and Misty are coming, and they’re his friends, so I’m certain he’ll show up.” “Yes, but still...” Sabrina’s voice trailed off as she stood before City Hall, deep in thought. Captain Jenny and everyone else knew to back away whenever any psychic, especially one as powerful as Sabrina, was thinking. “I wonder...” If their hypothesis was correct, and the arcanine followed the pattern of its previous appearance, then the arcanine would do the same as it had done in Pewter: destroy the houses, destroy the offices, and finally destroy City Hall, if that had been its ultimate intention nine months ago. But if they were wrong, and the arcanine simply wished to inflict pain and suffering... It had already succeeded. Sabrina shook her head, clearing it of any more disturbing thoughts and images, and, using her psychic powers, she began searching for the attacking pokemon’s mind through a sea of panicked Saffron City civilians’. Over the plains of consciousness, Sabrina searched, passing dying thoughts, reluctantly tasting the pain of those people who survived the devastating attacks. At last, Sabrina’s perfect concentration found the mind it had been aiming for, and her first impression was that the arcanine was familiar. Its mind seemed like no stranger to her. But as soon as the pokemon itself sensed her invading its thoughts, she was allowed no more time to try to identify it. Only emotions seeped through the mind link, and Sabrina was stunned by the ferocity and viciousness she felt when she looked through its hungry eyes- the eyes of a merciless killer. More burned buildings. More dying people and pokemon. Blood and ashes. She was startled out of the telepathic connection by a tap on her shoulder, and, dizzy from the amount energy her psychic abilities had consumed, she staggered, nearly fell, before a strong, welcoming pair of arms gently steadied her. She looked up at her savior to see Brock’s face observing her own thoughtfully, the concern and the love visible in his brown eyes as he spoke. “You looked like you were in great pain, Sabrina. Are you all right?” She smiled up at him, nodding in response. Brock was a couple of years younger than she, but he was tall, strong, charming, and quite handsome, so frankly, she couldn’t care less about their slight age difference. She could also tell that he didn’t care anymore about the fact that she had turned him into a doll so many years ago, because he was tightening his embrace around her. She only had an instant to relax into the safety of his warmth before someone reminded her of the task at hand. “Aw, you two are so cute together, you know that?” teased a new voice, and it instantly registered in Sabrina’s brain as Misty’s. Brock and Sabrina turned an interesting shade of red and quickly pulled away from each other, not wanting to be the focus of a pokemon master scandal that the media would have a field day with. They weren’t officially going out, and so if they valued their private lives, it wasn’t very prudent to be seen hugging in public, especially with a crowd of about one hundred people as witnesses. _Besides, we have a lord pokemon to take care of._ Sabrina thought to herself, trying not to stare at Brock as she brought her attention back to business. She remembered the first time she saw the growlithe, and at once, all the teachings that Alakazam had given her about the lord pokemon came back to her in a rush. Lord pokemon were extremely dangerous, Alakazam had told her, but they usually acted out of protectiveness for their kind and for their territory. This arcanine was entirely different; it acted out of pure evil. “We can’t hold it back much longer!” came a shout from somewhere in the long line of policemen and women. “It’s coming!” The noise of people aimlessly chatting and joking uncomfortably subsided, as everyone finally realized the gravity of the situation. “Water pokemon ready, Cerulean trainers!” Misty shouted, and a chorus of “aye” followed from the crowd that lay in wait for the arcanine. “Hoses ready, firemen!” Sabrina, snapping out of her reverie, called, and that, too, was answered by a collective shout from the firemen. “Tranquilizers ready, PC officers!” Brock yelled, and the WPC officers, fewer in numbers since the day the first officer was burnt alive, replied bravely. Last, but not least, the final line of defense that needed to be prepared was the Saffron City Police Department. Captain Jenny was scared, but she did not allow her officers to see that as she hollered commandingly, “Weapons ready, Saffron City!” “Yes, ma’am!” was the determined response. But Sabrina had the unshakable feeling that no one was going to need any of that, and the final showdown would be one between masters. “Damn it,” Sabrina whispered worriedly, looking away from City Hall to see a monstrous shadow approaching on the silent street. She had sensed that Ash was somehow the key to the whole problem, but if he wasn’t there, then how could they possibly solve it? Sabrina closed her eyes and felt the concern emanating from Misty’s soul, and then she knew that the problem was much worse than it appeared on the surface. Ash Ketchum could probably let all of Saffron City burn to the ground, but Misty? No way. Running a hand through her hair, damp from the sweat she had never before felt in her life, Sabrina took a deep, cleansing breath. “Ash, where are you?” ***** It was an awesome sight. Beautiful, electric blue flames in its tail and mane, too hot for any human to stand within fifteen feet of without burning, waved gently in the light breeze. Under that fiery mane, a flash of gold could be seen glittering around its neck, no doubt the mark of its unparalleled strength. Its glistening black fur nearly caused it to disappear against the background of night sky, but its continuous movement made its unwanted presence known to the world. It was powerful. If it had been deemed strong as a puppy, then by all rights it should have been called immortal as a grown pokemon. Misty, upon seeing the giant arcanine enter the plaza adjacent to City Hall, knew that even with the combined power of firemen around the world, its flames couldn’t be extinguished. Unless they threw it into the ocean. But the size of it would make transportation a nearly impossible task. Large buses barely topped the arcanine’s shoulders, and its weight was probably comparable to a plethora of snorlax. Still, though it would hurt to try, Misty firmly ordered all water pokemon trainers to send out their pokemon and fight the arcanine with a team hydro pump attack. The pokemon who hadn’t learned the ultimate water attack simply used bubblebeam to try to slow Arcanine down. Misty then heard Sabrina’s voice yell out a command beside her, and at once, all the firemen aimed their powerful hoses at the giant lord pokemon and fired. As they drenched the arcanine with thousands of gallons of water, Brock gave the final order and hundreds of tranquilizer darts sailed through the air, each one hitting its mark. Misty could almost feel the arcanine’s pain, and she was momentarily tempted to reach out to comfort it as it sank to the pavement. Just when its blue flames began to die away, it suddenly gave a thunderous roar, and the blue heat surrounding its body expanded and melted everything in a giant sphere around it. Forceful blasts of water instantly became harmless steam as they touched the arcanine’s impenetrable shield of fire, and people who got too close found out that they were burning, seconds before they died. Misty was so angry that she almost ran forward to slay the monster herself, until Sabrina stopped her in her tracks with a vice grip on her upper arm. Wide-eyed and staring straight at the arcanine, Sabrina shook her head, her eyes never straying from the arcanine, and she said, “No, Misty. You can’t kill it. That arcanine has flames hot enough to create plasma.” “I don’t care if it’s too dangerous!” Misty retorted, trying to shrug out of the motionless older woman’s grip. “I have to try to stop this!” “You can’t stop it,” Sabrina said in a monotonous voice. “Not this way.” Before Misty had a chance to question her, the arcanine suddenly turned around and ran past City Hall, jumping gracefully over the heads of the police officers who had created a useless vehicle barricade to try to trap it. “Where’s it going, Sabrina?” Brock, rushing to Sabrina’s side, asked. Only then did Misty realize that Sabrina had established another mind link with the arcanine, and apparently, she had succeeded. Misty could have slapped herself for not noticing the signs of the psychic connection sooner, but she kept her gaze on Sabrina, hoping her friend had found a solution. Sabrina suddenly broke out of the mindless haze she had been submerged in, and, thoroughly exhausted, she collapsed in Brock’s arms again with barely a shred of energy left to spare. She looked up at her friends, shivering in spite of herself, and she whispered, “Misty, you’re the one who can destroy that monster, once and for all.” “What?” Misty was taken aback. “Why me? What can I do?” Sabrina smiled weakly as she looked up at her friend. “You alone can free the soul trapped within. You’ll know what to do when you finally find it.” Brock shushed her gently, and, as a few paramedics arrived with a stretcher, he said, “Sabrina, it’s okay. Don’t move, and don’t even try to think. You’re too weak to be talking like this.” Sabrina felt a flash of pain in her mind as soon as he spoke those words, but it was gone in the next instant. Her smile widened a bit, touched by his concern for her, yet feeling a bit indignant that he didn’t believe in her abilities enough to know what she was truly capable of. A mind link with anything else would have caused no problem for her, since she was an experienced psychic, but this arcanine was just... different. She doubted that any other psychic who attempted a mind link with it would have survived at all, but even though she should have been proud, she felt that it wasn’t her talents that had saved her. The arcanine had *allowed* her to live. Brock gingerly lifted her on to the stretcher, and he held her hands in his as the EMTs rushed her toward the first aid center, where many more wounded already lay. She shook her head at him, at his protectiveness of her, and she spoke anyway. “Silph Co., Brock. Arcanine is going to destroy Silph Co.” It was Brock’s turn to look shocked. Not daring to release her cold hands from his, he asked softly, “Why?” Sabrina swallowed hard. “Because that’s Team Rocket Headquarters.” His hands fell limply back to his sides. ***** Rage. At first, it had felt nothing but pure rage, hot, uncontrolled, directed at anything and everything in its path. People died, property was destroyed, and though it should have cared, it didn’t. Then it felt pleasure as it slowly turned the massive chain of buildings in front of it to a blackened pile of melted rubble. Finally, it had discovered the cause of its fury, the purpose of its moonlit rampage. Finally, it had direction. Ember. A man in black uniform screamed in agony. Slash. Another helpless terrorist in black was cleaved in two neat, quivering halves. Dragon Rage. Someone’s limbs were torn from their sockets, black sleeves still intact. Flamethrower. A group of more black-clad figures left behind nothing but the echoes of their anguished cries. Fire Spin. Dust. Dust and ashes. Wonderful black ashes suspended in the foul air. The ashes of an evil talking cat pokemon and purple, red, aqua, blonde-haired humans alike. Fire Blast. The main skyscraper crashed to the ground, and the people who had been still working inside of it ran out like an army of homeless ants. With a low rumble of laughter in its throat, Arcanine spotted the leader of those little ants, scurrying about and hoping that his dark head blended in with his polished suit and hid him from the eyes of the executioner. What foolishness. Without a second thought, it performed the ultimate fire attack that it had been saving especially for that villainous leader. Fury Flame. Blood. Giovanni’s cold, wealthy, arrogant, black blood spilling on the concrete at its feet. Arcanine’s heart was torn between sadness and joy. It had lost a father, and it had lost a terrible foe, but which role of his victim had been the stronger of the two? Arcanine threw its head back and laughed joyously at the blue moon. ***** Brock and Misty reached Silph Co. a little too late. All they saw was a vast, empty lot covered by a huge pile of melted steel. This had been the site of the center of Silph’s growing empire, and now, there was nothing left but blood, and the distinct, awful smell that clung strangely to the air. Arcanine sat in the midst of the destruction, cruelly laughing as an insane pokemon would. Misty and Brock were stunned by the unpredictable fire pokemon’s actions, and so were the police officers who had bravely followed them. Now, in the face of evil, no one knew what move to make. The arcanine finally stopped laughing as it picked up the new, living scent in the air. Turning its head to meet Misty’s gaze head on, it approached them with a satisfied spring in its step. _What the hell is going on?_ Misty’s confused brain screamed angrily at her senses, just before one police officer opened fire, and the rest followed. But the arcanine was even faster than their weapons, and the fire shield around it deflected the bullets like insignificant bugs on a windshield. In a mock scolding manner, it shook its head at them, and Misty was suddenly very frightened. It was as intelligent as a human being... It had known which buildings to destroy, which people to kill, and it knew how sarcasm could work to its advantage. A whole brigade of men dropped their guns and ran away the second they saw that their bullets were ineffective. Three ambitious officers stayed with Brock and Misty, all three probably feeling untouchable at the moment with two masters on their side. But as the arcanine approached, all five left to confront the lord pokemon felt their knees shaking. “Ash, where are you?” Misty desperately murmured under her breath, so softly that only Brock, who stood beside her, heard it. Then the arcanine took a lungful of air and breathed. That was their cue to scram, and Brock and Misty dove to one side, while the other three officers chose to dodge in the other direction. The other direction was obviously wrong, because Arcanine swept its flames over the remaining three policemen, drawing back moments later to admire its handiwork of charred corpses. At long last, it turned to the water master and the rock master standing defiantly before it. It would be so amazingly easy to turn them to dust in the next instant, but it waited. It wanted to see them suffer. And just as the arcanine sucked in another breath of air, a familiar cry followed by a thousand lightning bolts stopped its attack. “PI-KA-CHUUUU!!!” Arcanine was forced back by the small, yellow electric mouse, and the bigger pokemon seemed disgusted to be disturbed by the puny little thing. Pikachu, crouched on all fours in front of Misty and Brock, had a determined look on its face and another electric shock rising in its red cheeks. “Pikachu?” Misty and Brock exclaimed in unison, recognizing their old friend instantly. Before Arcanine could advance once more, an unexpected red-orange blur suddenly flew past, in and out of the lord pokemon’s scorching fire shield, striking the arcanine in the nose and drawing blood. Arcanine roared in pain, stumbling backward, shaking its head to see what had attacked it. A charizard armed with a sword landed gracefully beside Pikachu, much to the two masters’ surprise. “Pikachu and Charizard!” Brock’s eyebrows shot up even higher. So that meant... “Where Ash’s pokemon go, Ash goes,” Misty stated, coming to the same conclusion as Brock. She knelt down, stroking Pikachu’s head gently, and she asked, “Where’s Ash, Pikachu?” Pikachu wearily shook its head, and, for the first time, Misty saw a hint of tears shimmering in its eyes. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t, accept what those tears meant. Misty scanned the area around them, knowing that he had to be here. If Ash’s pokemon were here, then where was Ash himself? “BULBA- SAUUR!!!” a familiar pokemon cried its name from atop the mass of twisted steel, and it deployed its razor leaves in hopes of actually hitting. The arcanine, caught off guard once more, staggered backwards from the sting of the leaves, its fury rising because it knew that grass pokemon were supposed to be no match for it. “PIDGEO!!!” a pidgeot dove out of the night, hitting Arcanine with a damaging sky attack before it flew back up to the safety of the air. On the roof of the building opposite the melted Silph headquarters, two shadows of water pokemon took shape. They emerged into the faint light of a street lamp, an obstinate squirtle and a determined lapras, and they attacked at the same time. Powerful, twin blasts of hydro pump were the final blows that sent the arcanine to the ground, whimpering. Misty found herself asking why a hundred hydro pumps had been useless against this arcanine, and now all of Ash’s main pokemon, one of a type weaker than the arcanine, actually inflicted damage on it. It gave her hope, and apparently, it gave Brock hope too. Before either had a chance to send out their best, however, a human-shaped figure dropped from the top of the building behind them, startling the two masters. Misty and Brock could tell that it was a man, but neither could see who he was through the fedora that covered his head and the black trench coat that he wore over his proud shoulders. “Ash!?” Brock blurted out. “Where in the world have you been, man!? We’ve been trying to call you all night!” The dark-haired young man didn’t respond, his steady gaze locked with the arcanine’s pained one. In one hand, he held three pokeballs marked with stars, and in the other, he clutched a blue pokedex. “No,” Misty whispered, suddenly recognizing the newcomer as he tilted his head slightly to glance back at them. Her anger soared to new heights. “RICHIE!!!” ***** Lying on a bed with a rush of emotions to feel and nothing but darkness to see, she feared for her friends’ lives. Of the people stretched out under the emergency tents, Sabrina seemed to be in the best physical condition. In fact, she looked like she didn’t even need to be lying there, wasting precious hospital bed space. She had no cuts, no burns, and no broken bones, and many wondered why Brock had brought her there at all. Very few of the medical staff rushing by realized that she had maintained her dangerous mind link with the arcanine even as it left, and that her condition was the most critical of all the victims. So when her eyes finally flew open with shock, no one was there to ask her why, or to comfort her in case the arcanine tried a psychic attack from a mile away. Breathing hard, she stared at the ceiling for a few moments before she sat up, nerves caught in an impossible skein, and she paled. _Damn it, Richie! You stuck-up, arrogant, foolish bastard!_ she cursed mentally. _Why couldn’t you just stay out of their business!?_ With the arrival of Ash’s pokemon, Misty and Brock were about to solve the whole puzzle. Sabrina could feel it from the waves of fear emanating from arcanine’s mind. So all that a stupid, thoughtless bounty hunter like Richie could really accomplish there was his own death. ***** Richie smirked at the astounded expressions on Misty’s and Brock’s faces, tempted, for a second, to beat both masters to a bloody pulp and ditch the arcanine’s blood money. Richie had once been their friend, but he had become insanely jealous when Ash beat him at Indigo Stadium. As a result of that loss, he had dropped his perfection act, and he had begun openly hating Ash, Misty, and Brock. After all, those meaningless words of “friendship” he had spoon-fed to Ash before their first and last match were just for the sake of giving them a good impression. The underlying meaning of all his cheesy, friendship speeches was always, “*When* I beat your sorry ass, don’t go crying to mommy.” He just hadn’t expected that Sparky, like the idiot of a pikachu that it was, would actually tackle Ash’s already dozing charizard. If Sparky hadn’t provoked the damn lazy fire pokemon, Richie would have surely won. Instead, Charizard woke up in a grumpy rage, flamed Sparky all the way to ICU, and Ash went on his merry way to win the League Championship. In his first, loser attempt. The youngest trainer ever to win. Unheard of in League history. Ash’s record-setting victories had been enough to make Richie’s blood boil for the rest of his life. Maybe he wouldn’t have minded if he had made it to the final round of the League in the year after that, but Gary Oak beat him, and then Ash beat Gary in turn. The year after that, some guy named AJ defeated Richie in the final round, only to be crushed at the challenger match by Ash. Damn Ash Ketchum, again and again, ruining people’s lives like the evil that he was. Ash and his goody-goody friends had been high on Richie’s enemies list for a long time, and now, with his hatred driving him to the end, Richie was going to show the world who he really was. Winning the prize on the arcanine’s head would show them all who was the better trainer. He would show the world what losers Ash and his friends truly were, and he would get the title he so richly deserved. Turning back to the dizzy-looking arcanine, Richie spotted the six other pokemon now gathered on the roof of the opposite building, looking at him in surprise, and he laughed at them scornfully. Turning to Misty, he sneered, “Where’s your perfect boyfriend now, water girl? Is he such a wimp that he would send out all his pokemon and stay home to watch the fireworks on TV? What a loser!” “We don’t have time for you stupidity, Richie!” Misty yelled back at him, pointing toward the recovering arcanine. “It’s getting up!” “I’ll take care of this,” Richie smirked once again, fiddling with one of the pokeballs in his hand. “I’ll show you two losers what a real trainer is made of. You and your worthless badges mean nothing without the true talent that only I have!” Brock, who was older, taller, and much burlier than Richie, almost pounded a fist or two into the younger man’s conceited face, but Misty held him back. “Wait, Brock. Richie’s actually a halfway decent trainer. If we let him fight, we could buy some time to discuss this with Ash’s pokemon and figure out how to stop that thing.” Brock nodded at her, not looking back at Richie as he jogged toward Ash’s pokemon. He knew that one glance back at Richie would be the end of the boastful trainer, and another murder, no matter how convenient and productive, wasn’t what Saffron City needed at the moment. “SPARKY!!! GO! And don’t fail, you little rat!” Misty and Brock cringed at the harshness in Richie’s voice, but they ignored the battle that raged on behind them as they caught up with Ash’s six, tired pokemon. They were all resting, trying to conserve their strength, because they had thrown all the energy they had into performing their most powerful attacks. “What’s going on, Pikachu?” Misty asked the electric pokemon worriedly. “Where’s Ash?” Pikachu surreptitiously sidestepped Misty’s second question as it answered the first. “Pika, pi, pikachu, pika, pika, pi, pi, pi, pikachu, pika, pikachu. (That arcanine is a demon lord pokemon, and we need to distract it enough so that Charizard can kill it.)” “A demon!?” Brock’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, which was a rare sight to see. “Where did it come from?” “Cinnabar Island,” Lapras spoke up, almost startling the two humans enough to make them jump. It had taken a while to get used to a pokemon communicating telepathically, and in flawless English, but even after all these years, they were still caught off guard by Lapras once in a while. “It came all the way from Cinnabar Island to wreak havoc on Pewter and Saffron City. I don’t see a pattern emerging here,” Misty mused aloud. “What does it want?” “It wants death and destruction,” Lapras shook her head sadly. “At a price...” “Squirtle, squirtle, squirtle, squirt. (It comes out once in a blue moon.)” “Saur, bulbasaur, bulba, bulbasaur. (And the only way to kill it is at the hand of a fire pokemon.)" “Charizard,” Brock finished. He turned to Misty, and caught her staring thoughtfully at the antique silver sword in Charizard’s claws. “What’s the matter, Misty?” “I remember Ash took a trip to the hidden dungeon near Cerulean City five months ago,” Misty murmured. “He said he was looking for a weapon, and I had just told him about the legend of the silver sword. The silver sword of the hidden dungeon.” Charizard nodded at her. “Char-i-zard. (This is it.)” “And that’s the only way to kill a demon pokemon...” Misty’s voice trailed off, and all the pieces of the giant puzzle fell together in a perfect fit. She looked down at Ash’s pokemon, who looked back up at her with concern in their mournful eyes. They were fighting, but they had known all along. Worst of all, *Ash* had known all along and didn’t tell her that... that... “Oh my god,” Misty paled. “Oh my god, Ash! You selfish piece of...” “Oh my god, what?” Brock asked, confused. Misty spun around and ran toward the weakened arcanine and the ambitious young trainer who was actually holding his own against it. “Richie!” Misty yelled, waving her hands at the bounty hunter, but Richie ignored her cries. “Richie! Don’t kill it!” Baffled even more by Misty’s outrageous request, Brock ran after her, Pikachu racing at his side, with the others trailing behind. The rock master glanced questioningly at Pikachu, who answered the question he didn’t know how to ask. “Pikachu, pi, pikachu. Pi, pika, pikachu, pi, pi, pi, pikachu, pika, pika, pika, pikachu. (Misty knows. She remembers the legend of demon pokemon and the bodies that they take possession of.)” It took a millisecond for everything to make sense to Brock. “Oh crap!” In the next instant, Onix, Graveler, Golem, Golbat, Ninetales, and Rhydon were slithering, rumbling, rolling, flying, running, and stampeding alongside Ash’s pokemon. ***** The final battle was a series hits, one powerful attack after the last. Arcanine was overwhelmed, but it couldn’t have been because of the number of pokemon fighting against it. True, there were twenty-four pokemon attacking it consecutively, but their numbers were no comparison to the huge team of Cerulean trainers and their pokemon back in front of City Hall. Coupled with firefighters’ hoses, it should have been an easy victory back there in contrast to now. “I’ll kill this arcanine, and I’ll mount its block head up on my wall,” Richie smugly declared, much to Misty’s and Brock’s irritation. “Shut up, Richie! The fight isn’t over yet,” Misty hissed. “I won’t let you kill him.” “Are you crazy, water girl?” Richie fumed. “That arcanine skin’s gonna be worth a ton of money, and I’m not letting you stop me from getting that money. This is the easiest ten million I’ll ever make!” Richie’s ego was almost bursting, his ill-founded beliefs in his talents as a pokemon trainer blinding him, until the arcanine shook its head and created the fire shield around it once more. That shield effectively stopped all special attacks from hitting, and that was enough reason to panic for the young bounty hunter. The blood drained from his face as the arcanine turned its steely glare on him. It was shaking with quiet rage, having heard everything that Richie had been gloating about, and Richie finally discerned that he was in way over his head. Arcanine drew in another lungful of air, its body glowing with a blue light, and the last thing Richie heard before the excruciating pain was Misty’s unexpected voice. “ASH!!! Don’t!!!” Charizard, with the silver sword glinting in the moonlight, flew in for the kill. ***** A frantic warning. “PIKAPI!!!” A glowing black blur. “Huh? Where did it go?” A deep, hungry growl. “Ash! Look out!” A flash of sharp teeth. “Ash! NO!!!” He knew that she would save him. ***** “You’re a very lucky young man. You can see that this is why we don’t have young trainers running around in Cinnabar Pokemon Mansion without official supervision. That strange growlithe almost completely bit off your throat. Luckily for you, your gym leader friends were there. If she hadn’t sent out her starmie, who knows just how unrecognizable you’d be today. And if he hadn’t carried you all the way here, you surely wouldn’t have survived.” ***** “Misty, thanks. I knew you’d save me.” “Ssh... it’s okay Ash,” she smiled at him, tenderly stroking his hair. “Don’t speak. You’re too weak to be talking like this.” “But Misty, I need to tell you. I need to say that... I lo...” “Not now. Not like this,” she interrupted gently, as if she knew where his words were leading, as if she knew that the drugs he had been given were clogging his mind. “Rest your voice, Ash. Just rest. I’ll watch over you. I’ll be here for you.” He gratefully closed his eyes, drifting in and out of slumber, feeling one of her hands holding his and the other stroking his unbruised cheek. Later, when she believed that he was fast asleep, he heard her quiet sobs and felt the shivers wracking her body. “I’m so sorry, Ash. I *will* be here for you.” He whispered her name, and she thought he was just dreaming. Her grip on his hand tightened protectively, trying to shield him in any way that she could from the nightmares she was sure he would have. “Always.” ***** “So Bill, are you saying that the evil counterpart to lord pokemon is a demon pokemon?” “I sure am, Ash. Lord pokemon used to be just about as rare as they come, and demon pokemon are fifty times rarer than that. We only have a few proven accounts in the history of the world about them. Supposedly demon pokemon want nothing more than death and destruction, as opposed to lord pokemon wanting life and the preservation of life. Lords stand for everything that is good and just, and demons represent all the evil in the world. Unfortuntely for everyone, demon pokemon are immortal, but their bodies are not, and so they need new hosts every one hundred years or so. And if you want to know, I believe they obtain possession of the new hosts by biting them.” “A la werewolf. So what’s this I hear about the blue moon?” “You read ahead in the diary, did you? Well, not only can demon pokemon take possession of other pokemon, they can actually take over humans as well. In pokemon, the metamorphosis is permanent, while in humans, the demon appears in its true form once every blue moon.” “Creepy. It’s too much like the old werewolf stories... The only difference is that demon pokemon transformations have longer rest periods in between, right?” “Exactly. Anyway, even if the host tries to commit suicide-“ “The spirit of the demon pokemon will just find another host within range.“ “Absolutely correct. I see that you’ve been reading more and more into these legends, haven’t you? Well, you should know that there is only one way to kill a demon pokemon, and that is by using the legendary weapons when the pokemon is in its true form.” There was a pause as the next question was carefully mulled over. “Bill?” “Yes, Ash?” “Is there a way to kill the demon without killing the host? At all?” “Not that I know of. But I’m quite sure you’ll find an answer in the diary I gave you to study. Ah, well, now look at the time. It’s almost lunch. Would you like to stay for some tofu? I’ve discovered this new recipe... absolutely marvelous...” ***** “Cut it out, Misty!” he laughed, trying to bat away her slender, amazingly resilient fingers. “But it’s fun to tickle you!” she replied, shrieking in laughter as he retaliated, and they promptly fell off their lounge chairs on the hard, tile floor. The moment he hit the ground, he began complaining about the pain of landing on his rear, and she took advantage of it. She seized the upper hand by pinning him on the cold floor with his arms stuck to his sides. Straddling his stomach and grinning maliciously down at him, she proceeded to tickle him even more. “Misty! Stop! No, come on, not there!” “Aha! So you’re ticklish on your neck too, aren’t you?” “Uncle! Uncle!” “Don’t say uncle! Say ‘Misty rules’ and bow down before me three times.” “All right! I will! Just not my neck!” “Well, considering the fact that both of you are seriously underdressed,” Brock grinned, strolling on the pool deck, “I’d call this extreme flirting.” Ash and Misty, noting for the first time that they *were* only wearing their very revealing swimming gear, reddened furiously. She almost jumped off him as he scrambled to his feet, and the color of their faces made Misty’s hair look dull. Suddenly, Ash felt pain sear through his skin, coming as waves from the thick scar on his neck. Clutching his throat as if he were choking, he fell to his knees, eyes closed, praying that the burning pain would pass. Misty and Brock were standing by him instantly, both keeping him steady with their hands on his trembling shoulders. “Ash, what’s wrong?” Misty asked, looking concerned. Fighting back unmanly, thirteen-year-old tears, Ash sighed as the pain mercifully deserted him, and he shook his head. “Nothing. My neck just... hurt for a couple of seconds there.” The tears seemed to leave his eyes as they welled up in hers. “Oh, Ash, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think, I mean, it was so long ago that I...” “It’s not your fault, Misty,” he said solemnly, gently cupping her face in his hands. “It wasn’t your fault back then, and it isn’t your fault now.” As he brushed away a couple of tears that escaped her eyes, Brock remarked casually, “I hear there’s a perfect full moon tonight. A special blue moon, too. It would be so romantic if you two went skygazing for your first date.” Two pairs of arms shoved the oldest teen into the pool, and the victim was still the one who ended up laughing. ***** “The Diary of a Demon Pokemon. The demon, although very powerful, is not invincible. It can be killed by a pokemon of the same type, as long as that pokemon uses one of three antique weapons- the silver sword, the golden axe, or the platinum spear. After the demon is slain, the soul of the host can be saved if-” “Hey Ash. Watcha reading?” The fifteen-year-old youth quickly shut the dusty, decaying notebook and smiled brightly at his friend. “Oh, um, nothing Misty.” “Come on, you can tell me what it is,” she grinned, trying to snatch the fragile old notebook out of his hands. “As long as it isn’t porno, it’s okay, isn’t it?” Ash gasped mockingly. “How dare you accuse me of such a terrible deed! I’m perfectly innocent!” Her grin widened. “So you have nothing to hide from me after all!” She tackled him to his bed. For a few moments, the two best friends fumbled teasingly for the notebook, and she ended up lying on top of him, trying to reach the prize he held in his extended arm. Finally, she gave up and slapped his arm. Unfortunately, he dropped the book- “OH CRAP!” -straight into the fireplace, where a fire was dutifully burning. “Ash, I’m sorry!” The two of them scrambled off the bed and pulled the blackened remains of the notebook off the burning wood. Ash could positively swear that she could see the desperate tears in his eyes, and she knew that the notebook hadn’t been something to be taken lightly. Forlornly, he stared at the charred pages, seeing few words that he could make sense of, and he sighed. “It’s okay, Misty. Really. I’ll just tell Bill that a wild ponyta breathed on this, and he won’t get mad about it.” “It looks like a really old book...“ “It is. The only copy of it in the world.” “Oh, Ash, I’m so sorry...” “It wasn’t your fault. I’m the stupid one who dropped it. For a League champ, I’m not exactly very graceful,” he smiled ruefully, and he remembered not to bring up the subject ever again. He thought for a moment, then, his eyes gleaming, he said, “Hey, I’ve been thinking about the hidden dungeon near Cerulean City. Only I’m allowed to enter, right?” “Yup, League Champions only,” Misty grinned, punching him lightly in the arm. “Rubbing in your high-and-mighty status now, aren’t you?” He winced in mock pain and pouted. “Well, I won’t enter unless there’s actually something good to see. Isn’t there some kind of weapon that some powerful warrior of long ago hid there?” She looked at him curiously. “Why, yes. It supposedly is the silver sword, one of the three legendary weapons that can slay demon pokemon. But you and I both know that demon pokemon are only a myth, right?” ***** The flashbacks ended for the arcanine as it dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, and Charizard, though successful in its mission to slit the arcanine’s throat, also fell, shedding salty tears like never before. The silver sword slipped out of its shivering claws and clattered noisily to the ground, the only sound that anyone could hear for a long time. Brock let a single tear travel down his cheek, wavering only a little in his role as the rock and the anchor. He quietly called back his pokemon, checking to see if any of Richie’s pokemon had survived, but he found none. Misty, too grief-stricken to think, simply fell to her knees and sobbed, and Brock had to retrieve her pokemon for her. The silence that followed was pierced only by Ash’s pokemon’s crying, and Pikachu, unable to withstand it any longer, finally broke down and yelled to the heavens above. “PIIII-KAA-PIIIII!!!” It was answered by a movement from the arcanine, scaring everyone so much that they all jumped. Brock could feel all his strength being filtered away. “What in the-“ “Ash?” Misty whispered hopefully. The arcanine staggered to its feet, bleeding profusely at the neck but refusing to let go of its immortal life. For the first time, Misty saw clearly what the gold line around the arcanine’s neck was- Ash’s scar. “Charizard, finish it,” the arcanine growled out, in a courageous imitation of a man’s voice. “Kill it now, before it’s too late. I can’t hold it back much longer.” Charizard picked up the silver sword once more, and, claws trembling, it flew up into the air with a mighty roar of anger. The injustice that it felt was beyond anything that anyone had ever experienced, and it infuriated the fire pokemon to have to do as its master commanded. Even if it was Ash’s last wish. As Charizard made the final dive toward the dying arcanine, Misty tried to run toward it, toward _Ash_, to save him from a death only the demon pokemon deserved. Brock unwillingly held his almost hysterical friend back, turning his face away from the scene before him, knowing that if he witnessed it, he would never be able to erase it from his memory. He had already lost five younger siblings and looked them all in the eye as they inhaled for the last time. Every one of their helpless faces was forever planted in his memory, and he didn’t want any more of that grief. Ash Ketchum had been closer to him as a brother than any of his true family, and if he was forced to see that, he didn’t know what he would do. Silver collided with melted steel. Charizard, forced to play executioner, finished the deed and dropped its weapon on what used to be Silph Co. It began to rain. Brock released Misty and watched as she ran tentatively to the fallen arcanine. She was two steps away from the arcanine when it slowly dematerialized, its body turning clearer and clearer, until nothing remained but the figure of a young man. Sprawled on his left side, spiky black hair damp from the rain and obscuring his closed eyes, the young man bled into the quiet street from a wound that had been closed far too long. “Ash,” Misty whispered, allowing her tears to flow and mingle with the rainwater staining her cheeks. Kneeling beside his broken body, still clad in black from head to toe, she sobbed. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell Brock? We knew about these legends. We could have helped you...” Gently, she turned him so that he was lying on his back, but there was nothing she knew about that could bring him back. He was gone, and she had never, ever told him. She never let him know how she felt, in all the time they spent together. It wasn’t about the stupid bike. It never had been. Taking a shuddering breath, Misty leaned closer to his face, so handsome even in death, and, despite her rational mind telling her that fairy tales never came true, she kissed him. To show how much she loved him. To say goodbye. It was the first time she had kissed anyone, but to Misty, it was better to kiss Ash Ketchum dead than to be touched by any other living man. What she totally didn’t expect was for Ash to return her embrace. She was so shocked that she pulled away from him and almost jumped back two feet. “Ash!?” everyone present had shocked looks on their faces as they all said his name, in their own languages. The fatal wound at his throat had mysteriously been sealed, leaving behind his old scar, and Ash Ketchum was as healthy as a rapidash. He sat up, with Misty’s help, and he glanced around at the destruction his other self had caused. He opened his mouth to speak, and everyone unknowingly leaned forward to hear his very important, very meaningful first words. “I’m hungry. Anyone for ice cream?” Tears of joy stung her eyes as Misty exuberantly flung her arms around him. “You’re back.” He tightened his arms around her, a bit confused, a bit saddened, but still grateful to be alive. "I'm sorry, Misty. I'm sorry." "For what?" she asked, holding back the urge to just cry into his shoulder. "For not telling you. For being an idiot. For becoming a demon of fire and destroying everything..." “But you fought it, Ash,” she told him gently. “You fought it, and you stopped it from killing us. You managed to restrain the arcanine’s powers when we were battling it, didn’t you? And that’s why we actually hit the arcanine when we were fighting here, and no one even scratched it at City Hall.” He nodded, closed his eyes, and leaned against her shoulder. “That still doesn’t change the fact that I killed all those people. I killed... my own father...” “That wasn’t you. It was the demon. Don’t you see?” she sighed. It was like Ash to take a guilt trip over something that he had almost no control over. “The goodness in your heart never made you a demon. You were a lord, Ash. No matter what you looked like outside, you were still a lord.” He smiled at her, virtually forgetting everyone else who now joined in the group bear hug. “Thanks.” ***** One week later... Today was the day. Over and over, Ash rehearsed the speech that he had written and rewritten for Misty, to tell her how much he cared for her. Pikachu sat in the corner of Ash’s sofa, sipping ketchup through a straw, and giggling uncontrollably at its master’s apparent confusion. “I love you, will you go out with me? No, that’s kinda lame. Will you take me to the movies? I’m kinda broke, er, I mean... Doh! What kind of an idiot would say that? What I meant was, would you go out with me to the movies, my treat cuz I’m richer and I love you. No, that’s not right either. Pikachu, tell me what you think of this next one, ‘kay? Pikachu?” Pikachu had fallen off the couch and was rolling around on the floor, laughing so much that the couch sizzling with unstable electricity. Ash gritted his teeth. “Pikachu...” The doorbell rang, and Ash, after stumbling a couple of times to the door, flung it open. He was met by Misty’s radiant smile, a warm hug, and a peck on the cheek. Ever since Ash’s miraculous return from the dead, he and Misty had been finding the weakest excuses to hug or be in contact with each other. Frankly, he was enjoying himself, but now he felt that the time had come for a little more. “Hey Ash! Where’s that new magazine you promised? Brock and Sabrina said they were going to grab it if I didn’t get to it first.” “Actually, I wanted to have a little talk,” Ash began, feeling his cheeks go red even before he had said something incriminating. “Oh?” she raised a knowing eyebrow as he led her into the living room. They sat down on the couch at the same time she asked her question, on cue. “What about?” Biting his lip, Ash shrugged. If it had been possible for his face to redden even more, he could have been mistaken for a giant, walking tomato. “Us, Misty. I want to talk about us.” A playful grin reached her lips, and she shook her head. “I don’t think we need to. I think we both know already.” “We do?” “Don’t you think last week proves it?” He sighed. “Why do you answer my questions with questions, Mist?” She smiled warmly, leaning ever so slightly into him. “Because I know it drives you crazy, Ash. Because I think you’re adorable when you’re mad. Because I know you so well. You’re my best friend. And that’s why-“ “I love you,” he finished for her, and he claimed her lips with his own. ***** Pikachu, finding human courting rituals a touch on the boring and nauseating side, left its trainer in search of adventure in Ash’s house. Life was too perfect at the moment, with Team Rocket out of the way. Pikachu was only thankful that Ash’s wrath for the Rockets, and not his anger for anything else, had carried into the arcanine. Otherwise, the arcanine would have kept on destroying innocent people’s lives and passed Silph Co. without a second glance. Pikachu was also glad that the Saffron City police force took forever to reach the remains of Silph, because then no one but Ash, Misty, Brock, and their pokemon knew about Ash’s devastating transformations. They had decided to keep it that way. A mystery still remained, however. All week, Pikachu had been trying to figure out how a kiss could bring its master back to life. It was strange, to say the least, and it was unlike anything it had ever heard of in reality. Fairy tales just didn’t come true like that. As Pikachu passed Ash’s room, it caught sight of the worn-out, half-burnt notebook that Ash seemed to always have his nose in. For the last few months, Ash hadn’t even given it a glance. Pikachu picked it up and saw that there really wasn’t much of the book left anyway. Still curious, the electric mouse leafed through the black pages, until it found one that had a lot of white space and writing intact. Pikachu stared at the page for a few moments, trying to make sense of the words from the little it knew of the human alphabet. It gave up quickly, knowing that there was no way it could decipher all that writing. But had it been able to read what was written, Pikachu would have instantly reported what it had found, for the writer of that diary had discovered a truly terrifying secret. ----- “After the demon is slain, the soul of the host can be saved if the host’s soulmate proves his or her love. However, this remedy is only temporary, and though it heals the host’s body, it only delays the cycles of metamorphosis for two blue moons. Note: This remedy may only work if the host’s soulmate is also a demon pokemon.” End Last Notes: I don’t think I’ve read a Pokemon fic that has the typical werewolf plot before (it’s been overdone to death in other fandoms, I think... ^_^) which is why I did it with a twist myself... I couldn’t resist. I hope you weren’t too disappointed/disgusted/annoyed with this story, and I’m sorry if I made it a little too cheesy near the end. ^_^* On Richie: Can you tell how much I hate him? To me, he was just a stupid ANC (Annoying New Character), except that he was “official.” I would have picked Gary Oak for the role of arrogant martyr, but I realized that I despised Richie more when I was writing that part. Please forgive me if you’re a Richie fan. On Team Rocket: I hope I didn’t infuriate the Rocket fans so much that you’d hate me for life. I love Team R as well, but I just had to kill them all off for this one fic... On Brock: Someone challenged me to find an unusual match for Brock, meaning that it wasn’t anyone Brock had gone crazy over (e.g. Lara L., Suzie, Erika, Cassandra, Aya, Florinda, Officer Jenny, Nurse Joy, etc.). I figured Sabrina would be the weirdest of all. ^_^ Other fic notes: If you’re reading “Destiny” at the moment, then you already knew something about the lord pokemon heavily discussed in this fic beforehand. Just watch out, because the demons might show up in “Destiny,” too. ^_^ That’s it! Happy New Year! (No, the new millennium starts 2001... -_-*) Please send all your wonderful comments/criticisms and/or flames to nova247@yahoo.com Thank you! Copyright (C) 2000 by Nova. All rights reserved. (AN: It felt good to type the year 2000!!! ^_^)