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58.33% Pokémon : An Unexpected Odyssey / Chapter 28: Chapter no.28 Hunter and Hunted

Chapter 28: Chapter no.28 Hunter and Hunted

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The night sky stretched endlessly above, a dark canopy speckled with stars that seemed indifferent to the chaos below. The faint outline of Mt. Moon loomed in the distance, its shadowy ridges sharp and foreboding. Austin stood at the base of a jagged cliff, his breaths visible in the chill air. His legs felt like lead, his muscles burned, and the weight of the bicycle strapped to his back was a cruel reminder of his predicament. But this wasn't the time to complain. Arianna and her grunts would be scouring the forest floor for him, their numbers growing as they spread like a plague.

The forest wasn't safe anymore, but the cliffs? A cave carved into the side of the rock face—that might be.

His eyes tracked upward, where Spearow circled the cliff. The bird Pokémon let out a sharp cry, swooping down and landing on the narrow ledge beside Austin. Its talons clinked against the metal of the climbing gear strapped to his chest, tugging at one of the carabiners with a sense of urgency.

"All right, all right, I get it," Austin muttered under his breath, wiping sweat from his brow. He reached into his bag, retrieving a coil of rope. Spearow hopped closer, its sharp eyes tracking his every move.

"You're really into this, huh?"

Spearow let out an impatient squawk and gripped the rope in its talons, flapping its wings for balance as it tugged it free from Austin's pack. The bird darted up to the first ledge, finding a secure rock outcrop to anchor the line. It looped the rope with precision, its sharp beak working like a tool as it tightened the knot.

"Not bad," Austin muttered. "Maybe I should let you do all the hard work."

Spearow gave him an annoyed glare before fluttering back down to Austin, landing lightly on his shoulder.

"All right, partner," Austin said, securing the other end of the rope to his harness. He tested the tension with a few experimental pulls, the rope holding firm. "Let's do this."

He grabbed hold of the first handhold, his fingers digging into the rough stone as he began the ascent. The climb was slow, each movement deliberate as he adjusted his weight to account for the heavy bicycle strapped to his back. Spearow hovered nearby, darting ahead to scout for better grips and footholds, chirping directions when needed.

"Yeah, yeah, I see it," Austin said through gritted teeth as Spearow screeched and pointed its beak toward a sturdier ledge to his left. He shifted his weight carefully, reaching for it with trembling fingers.

At one point, his foot slipped on a patch of loose gravel, sending small rocks skittering down the cliffside. His stomach dropped as he clung desperately to the ledge, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

In an instant, Spearow swooped down, grabbing hold of the bicycle's frame with its talons. The bird flapped its wings furiously, easing the strain on Austin's back just enough for him to regain his footing.

"Thanks," he rasped, pressing himself flat against the rock face for a moment to steady his nerves.

Spearow chirped sharply, as if to say, Stop messing around and focus.

"I'm trying, okay?!" Austin shot back. "You're not the one carrying half a bike shop on your back."

The climb continued, the muscles in Austin's arms and legs screaming in protest. Spearow remained vigilant, darting between him and the higher ledges to secure the rope and scout the best path forward. At one point, it even tugged on the straps of Austin's pack to shift the weight, making the climb just a little more bearable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Austin hauled himself over the last ledge and into the narrow mouth of a cave. He collapsed onto the dirt floor, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Spearow fluttered down beside him, its feathers ruffled but its eyes sharp and alert.

"You… are officially the MVP," Austin panted, giving the bird a weak thumbs-up.

Austin sat up slowly, wiping the sweat from his brow as he glanced around the small space. It wasn't much, just a shallow cave carved into the side of the cliff, but it would do for now.

Before he could fully relax, a sharp cry echoed from deeper within the cave. Spearow immediately shot forward, a blur of motion as it used Quick Attack to strike at whatever had made the noise. A soft thud followed, and Austin quickly reached into his bag for his flashlight. He flicked it on, the beam cutting through the darkness to reveal the creature Spearow had intercepted.

It was a Sandslash.

The bipedal, spiny Pokémon stood its ground, claws extended and glinting in the light. Its quills bristled with tension, and its almond-shaped blue eyes burned with fierce protectiveness. Behind it, two smaller forms huddled—a pair of Sandshrew, trembling as they pressed against the walls of the cave.

"Whoa, whoa," Austin said, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "Easy there."

The Sandslash didn't move, its sharp claws scraping the ground as it shifted into a defensive stance.

Austin reached for his belt and released Rattata, the small Pokémon landing on the ground with a soft thud.

"Rattata," he said softly, keeping his voice calm, "tell them we mean no harm. We just need a place to rest, and then we'll leave."

Rattata gave him a nod, her tail flicking as she cautiously approached the Sandslash. She squeaked and chattered, her tone soothing as she communicated with the wary Pokémon.

Austin, meanwhile, dug into his bag and pulled out the small meal he had packed for the morning. He opened the container, letting the aroma of cooked rice and berries waft through the air.

"Tell them they can have this," Austin said to Rattata, his voice steady but soft. "If they'll let us stay for a while."

The Sandslash's eyes darted between the food and Austin, its quills slowly lowering as Rattata continued to squeak. After a tense moment, the Sandslash relaxed slightly, giving a small grunt of approval.

"Thank you," Austin murmured, carefully setting the container down on the cave floor before backing away.

With the immediate threat neutralized, Austin turned his attention to Pikachu. The electric mouse lay motionless, its small chest rising and falling in shallow intervals. A lump formed in his throat as he pulled out a clean cloth, a bottle of water, some antiseptic, and a Full Heal. His hands trembled as he knelt beside his injured partner.

The injuries were worse than he'd let himself admit.

Pikachu's fur was matted with blood, deep cuts crisscrossing its body like a grim map of the battle they had barely survived. The sight made his chest tighten, guilt twisting in his gut.

"This shouldn't have happened," he muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry, buddy. I'm so sorry."

Gritting his teeth, Austin poured water onto the cloth and began cleaning the wounds with slow, deliberate care. Each wipe felt like an eternity, the stench of blood and antiseptic mixing in the cold, stale air of the cave. Pikachu's body twitched faintly with every touch, and Austin flinched, his heart aching with every sign of pain.

Once the wounds were clean, he sprayed the Full Heal over them, watching as its restorative properties took effect. The cuts began to close, leaving faint scars in their place. It was almost miraculous, but the process was slow, each passing second stretching the weight of his guilt.

Finally, Austin cradled Pikachu against his chest, resting his head against the small, battered body. He closed his eyes, letting the soft rhythm of Pikachu's breathing ground him.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

The sound was steady. Reassuring. For now.

A soft tap on his arm broke the silence. He opened his eyes to find one of the Sandshrew standing beside him, holding a smooth rock in its tiny claws. The little Pokémon placed the stone in his hand, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Austin felt a lump rise in his throat as he clutched the rock tightly against his chest. "Thank you," he whispered.

The Sandshrew chirped happily before scurrying back to its family, who had begun cautiously nibbling on the food he'd offered.

Rattata returned to his side, nudging his cheek with her nose and letting out a soft squeak.

"Sorry for not calling you out earlier," Austin said, stroking her fur gently. "I was planning to use you for a sneak attack, but... she was too strong."

Rattata squeaked again, her tone a mix of frustration and reassurance.

"I know," he murmured. "We'll figure something out. We always do."

Leaning back against his backpack, he let his exhaustion catch up with him. The cold, hard floor of the cave pressed against his back, but he was too tired to care. Spearow perched at the cave entrance, sharp eyes scanning the darkness beyond, while Rattata curled up beside him, her presence a small comfort.

For now, they were safe. But the question loomed in his mind, heavy and unrelenting: What do we do next?

A faint hiss broke through the silence—a Pokéball opening. The sound was familiar, enough to rouse him from his shallow rest. Instinctively, he kept his body still, listening for any further movement. He didn't need to look to know who it was.

Vee had released itself.

There was no noise, no movement after that. Just... silence. Curiosity overtook his need for stillness. Opening one eye, he caught sight of Vee sitting a few feet away, motionless. The Pokémon stared blankly at Pikachu, its ears drooped low, its entire posture heavy with an emotion Austin recognized but didn't know how to address.

"Don't worry, Pikachu is fine," Austin said softly. The words were as much for himself as they were for Vee. In truth, he didn't know if Pikachu was fine. He could only hope. The little electric mouse hadn't stirred much since their harrowing escape from Arianna.

"Eve..." Vee's voice was low, almost a whisper, but its body betrayed the sound. Its fur bristled, and its gaze flicked sharply toward the forest beyond the cave's entrance. A low growl rumbled in its throat.

"Angry?" Austin asked gently.

Vee turned its head to meet his gaze, and the unrelenting, burning anger in the Pokémon's eyes was unmistakable. It wasn't just anger born of frustration. It was an anger steeped in helplessness, in the pain of witnessing things it couldn't control.

Austin felt something different. His anger wasn't a wildfire like Vee's—it was cold, sharp, and calculating. But it burned all the same, smoldering beneath his skin.

"I'm scared," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. The confession drew every eye in the cave—Vee, Rattata, Spearow. Even Pikachu, unconscious as it had been, stirred faintly at the sound.

"I'm angry too," Austin continued, his voice growing stronger, steadier. "But I know those feelings won't help us right now. We're in a bad situation, and I don't know about you, but I'm not going down without a fight."

The cave fell silent, save for the faint rustle of the wind outside. For a moment, Austin wondered if his words had even reached them.

Then, softly, a weak voice broke through the quiet: "Pika..."

Everyone turned, eyes widening as Pikachu stirred, barely able to lift its head. Its eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but the flicker of determination within them refused to die.

Austin placed a gentle hand on Pikachu's back, careful not to touch its still-tender wounds. "Don't push yourself too hard, buddy."

Vee growled low in its throat. Spearow gave a sharp cry, and Rattata squeaked, her tail flicking with energy.

Austin looked around at his team, a small smile spreading across his face. "Good to see everyone on board."

Turning his gaze to the Sandslash family, he bowed his head slightly in respect. The mother Sandslash stood protectively in front of her babies, her sharp claws glinting in the dim light.

"Miss Sandslash," Austin began, his tone calm and measured. "How would you like some extra food for your babies? In exchange, you could help us with something."

----

2:00 AM – Somewhere in the forest

Christopher Hayes trudged through the dark forest with a scowl that could curdle milk.

"You want the damn kid so bad? Go find him yourself, you psychotic harpy!" Christopher muttered, just loud enough for himself to hear. It was the only outlet he had. He would never dare say it to her face. Arianna was like a storm—beautiful and terrible all at once. And terrifying. Let's not forget terrifying.

Adjusting his flashlight, the beam sliced through the thick underbrush. He hated this assignment. He hated the forest. But most of all, he hated that trainer for making his life more difficult.

Christopher sighed, his boots crunching against the forest floor. His hand hovered near his Pokéball, ready to defend himself if something jumped out. He was already imagining the tongue-lashing he'd get from Arianna if he came back empty-handed, when suddenly, the bushes ahead rustled.

"Finally," he muttered, his fingers closing around the Pokéball. His heart raced as the bushes shook again. He braced himself for some wild Pokémon or—if he was lucky—the kid himself.

Instead, a small Rattata burst out, darting straight toward him.

Christopher exhaled sharply, relaxing his grip on the Pokéball. "Just a stupid Rattata," he grumbled, stepping aside to let it pass.

But the Rattata didn't pass.

The moonlight glinted off the Quick Claw necklace, and Christopher's instincts screamed at him—a moment too late. The Rattata lunged, its body a blur as it slammed into him with Quick Attack, knocking the air from his lungs.

White-hot pain exploded in his head as he hit the ground hard, his vision swimming. The world tilted and spun, a nauseating whirlpool of shadows and light. His ears rang, and blood trickled from his temple where he'd struck a rock.

He groaned, trying to push himself up, but his arms felt like jelly. Through blurry vision, he saw a figure step out of the shadows.

A boy.

No, not just a boy. A boy wearing a paper bag over his head. The crude disguise only made him more unsettling in the moonlight.

Christopher's breath hitched as realization dawned, cold and sharp as a knife. This was Arianna's target.

And he was screwed.

----

When Christopher came to, the first thing he noticed was the sensation of water being sprinkled on his face. It was cold and irritating, snapping him out of his daze.

He blinked groggily, only to find himself in a horrifying predicament. His body was buried in a shallow hole, dirt packed tightly around him. Only his head stuck out, leaving him completely immobile.

"Someone help me!" Christopher yelled, panic overtaking him as he struggled futilely against the packed earth.

A sharp slap across his face silenced him.

"Quiet," the boy with the paper bag said, crouching down to his level. His voice was calm, almost eerily so. "I'd suggest you take a moment to assess the situation before you start yelling again."

Christopher's breath hitched as he locked eyes with the boy—or rather, the two crude eyeholes in the bag. The sheer absurdity of it only made the fear worse.

Swallowing hard, Christopher forced himself to calm down, his mind racing. The boy could have killed him. He hadn't. That meant there was a reason. A way out.

He plastered on a nervous smile, his survival instincts kicking in. "Alright, boss," he said, his voice shaky but trying to sound cooperative. "What do you need?"

"Name?"

"Christopher Hayes," he replied immediately, forcing the smile to stay.

"Do you know why you're here?" Austin asked, his fingers absently drumming on the thermos by his side.

The question was deceptively simple, and Christopher's mind scrambled to form an answer that wouldn't land him in more trouble. His throat was dry, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

"We were ordered to capture a special Eevee. That's it!" he blurted out.

Austin gave a low hum, nodding slightly. His demeanor was casual, almost indifferent, but every movement and word was deliberate. The way he tapped the thermos wasn't idle—it was a subtle distraction, drawing Christopher's focus toward the container and making him wonder what it held. Keeping his enemy guessing was part of the game.

"Interesting," Austin said after a pause. He motioned toward Vee, who gracefully shifted into its Vaporeon form. Its liquid body shimmered in the moonlight as it slipped into the thermos. The sight was mesmerizing, and Austin let the silence stretch, giving Christopher time to let his imagination run wild.

"And do you know who created this special Eevee?"

"I—I don't know. Please, just let me go."

The grunt's voice cracked, panic seeping through every word. Exactly what Austin wanted—fear made people malleable, desperate to escape the nightmare they thought they were trapped in.

Austin didn't respond immediately. Instead, he rummaged through his backpack, his movements deliberate and calm. To Christopher, the nonchalance conveyed authority—Austin was in control here, and Christopher was powerless.

"I'll tell you who made him," Austin said finally, pulling out a small syringe. "I did."

Christopher blinked, stunned. The absurdity of the claim threw him off balance, which was precisely the point.

"That's impossible. You're just a kid."

Austin's head snapped toward him, his tone shifting to sharp indignation.

"I have Benjamin Button's disease."

The unexpected statement left Christopher speechless, his mind reeling. It didn't make sense, but the conviction in Austin's voice made him hesitate. Doubt was a powerful tool, after all.

Austin shook his head, muttering as he tore the syringe's packaging open and placed it beside the thermos, carefully keeping both out of Christopher's view. The placement was deliberate, creating a connection in Christopher's mind between the syringe and the mysterious contents of the thermos.

"You don't find it a little too convenient that an Eevee experimented on by Team Rocket just happened to trust a trainer it met in Viridian Forest?" Austin's tone carried a mocking edge, as if Christopher should have figured it out already.

Christopher's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. The sheer absurdity of the situation scrambled his thoughts. Exactly what Austin needed—an overwhelmed mind was easier to manipulate.

"What do you want from me?"

"Open your mouth," Austin said, his tone chillingly casual.

Christopher clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head.

Pikachu trotted up, slapped him hard across the face, and let its cheeks spark menacingly.

Left with no choice, Christopher yelped and opened his mouth.

In one smooth motion, Austin squirted water from the syringe into the grunt's mouth.

Christopher coughed and gagged, panic rising with every breath.

"What—what was that?"

"Vaporeon's liquid form," Austin said evenly, motioning toward the thermos.

Christopher froze, his face draining of color. The calm, matter-of-fact way Austin spoke made it impossible to dismiss.

"No… I—"

"Do you feel it?" Austin interrupted, his voice low. "Or do I need to inject some into your jugular for you to really understand what's happening?"

Christopher's breath hitched. He could almost feel something moving inside him. His stomach churned as the power of suggestion took hold, the placebo effect amplifying his fear into physical sensations.

"I—I feel it! I feel it!" Christopher cried, nodding frantically, tears streaming down his face.

"Good," Austin said. "You see, Vee can hold its liquid form for a long time. But here's the catch: if it decides to stop maintaining that form… well." He paused, letting the silence stretch unbearably. "Imagine every molecule of that liquid solidifying inside you. Spikes, claws, an explosion of tissue, organs… Gone in an instant."

Christopher's lip quivered, his mind conjuring the horrifying image Austin had painted. The mental picture was vivid, gruesome, and utterly believable.

"You understand now, don't you?" Austin continued, his voice dropping lower. "You're alive because I'm letting you be. And that's not something I do lightly."

Christopher broke. His sobs were uncontrollable as tears streamed down his face.

"Please! I have a sick mother who needs surgery. Please, I'll do anything!"

Austin stood back, arms crossed, letting the man's cries echo in the night. He didn't interrupt, didn't mock. The silence was part of the strategy, letting Christopher's imagination run rampant, filling the void with dread.

Finally, when Christopher's sobs dulled into pathetic sniffles, Austin spoke. His tone softened, almost kind.

"Anything?"

"Yes, yes!" Christopher nodded rapidly.

"Good." Austin's voice hardened again. "Then all you need to do is what you've done your entire life."

"What?"

"Obey," Austin said simply.

"Obey..."

"Exactly," Austin said, snapping his fingers. "Sandslash!"

The mother Sandslash, who had been watching the exchange from a distance, stepped forward. With practiced ease, she began digging Christopher out of his makeshift prison.

"What Pokémon do you have?"

"Oddish and Venonat," Christopher mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Austin's mind raced. Those Pokémon weren't powerhouses, but they had utility. He could work with that.

"Great," Austin said with a nod. "You're going to help me. And if you try anything stupid, remember..." He motioned toward the thermos.

Vee, still maintaining its liquid form, rippled faintly, its body shimmering ominously in the dim light.

Christopher nodded fervently, his thoughts too clouded with fear to question anything.

"I'll do whatever you say."

"Good." Austin straightened, his tone commanding. "Let's get started."

----

The forest was cloaked in the stillness of night, shadows stretching long across the uneven ground. A faint wind rustled the branches, carrying with it the distant sound of scurrying Pokémon and soft hoots. The grunt moved cautiously, his flashlight cutting through the dark as he scanned the underbrush. His hand rested on his PokéBall, ready for anything—or so he thought.

The sound of digging shattered the eerie calm, sharp and abrupt. The grunt flinched, spinning toward the noise with his heart racing.

"Who's there?" he barked, trying to mask the fear creeping into his voice.

Before he could react further, twin bolts of electricity streaked through the air, slamming into him. His body seized as the thundershocks coursed through him, sending him crashing to the ground in a heap. Paralysis locked his limbs, and his breath came in shallow gasps.

From the shadows, Austin stepped forward, his paper bag tilting slightly as he looked down at the prone grunt. Venonat skittered to his side, its radar-like eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

"Good job, everyone," Austin said, his tone calm, almost disconcertingly casual. He crouched beside the grunt, yanking the PokéBalls from his belt and tossing them into his bag.

Christopher emerged from the trees a moment later, his shoulders hunched and his head down, just as he had been for the past hour. He glanced at the unconscious grunt, then at Austin, who was already stripping the man of his uniform.

"Good job, boss," Christopher muttered, his tone flat but not without a hint of admiration. For the past hour, he had been helping Austin systematically take down Rocket grunts across the forest, one by one. With Venonat's radar vision, they had managed to sneak up on each of them undetected, incapacitating them before they could alert others.

Each time, the routine was the same: Austin would disable the grunt, strip them of their belongings, lock their PokéBalls, and tie them to a tree in nothing but their underwear. It was efficient, ruthless, and oddly precise—everything a Team Rocket operation wasn't. Christopher didn't comment on it anymore; he'd learned quickly to keep his head down and follow orders. It was easier that way.

"Fifteen-minute rest before we move on to Mt. Moon," Austin announced, shaking the satchel to dump its contents onto the ground.

"So, how many grunts are there?"

Christopher sighed inwardly. This was the fifth time Austin had asked, and he wasn't sure if the kid didn't trust him or just liked to double-check everything.

"Fourteen grunts, two captains, one executive."

"Good," Austin said. "We've already taken out four grunts in the forest. That leaves a captain at the front entrance, another at the exit, and about ten grunts inside. Half of them should be asleep by now, right?"

Christopher gave a dry laugh. "Yeah, we do shifts. Half the grunts sleep while the other half pretend to be useful. It's the Team Rocket way."

Austin didn't react to the joke, his focus fixed on the map. "Perfect. That means we only have to deal with one captain and five grunts. Should be easy."

"Easy," Christopher echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. Austin spoke as though destroying an entire Team Rocket operation was just another errand to run.

Austin sifted through the satchel's contents, pausing when he pulled out a gleaming Boulder Badge. He held it up, turning it over in his fingers. "Mind telling me how he got this?"

"Poker night," Christopher said. "This Eevee mission was supposed to be a quick job—two days tops. But it's been dragging on for a week or so now. Trainers keep coming through Mt. Moon, so we've been capturing them to check their Pokémon and supplies, seeing if they've got anything worth taking. When we didn't find the Eevee… well, all that loot had to go somewhere."

"Loot?"

Christopher shifted uncomfortably, as if realizing how bad it sounded. "Yeah, we started using the stuff we confiscated—Pokéballs, money, TMs—as prizes for poker nights. You know, to keep morale up."

"Morale. How noble."

"It wasn't my idea," Christopher muttered defensively. "I just… played along. I even won a TM for Flash during one of the games."

"Convenient," Austin said, his tone flat. "So how exactly are you dealing with the rangers inside Mt. Moon?"

Christopher sighed, his hand brushing through his hair as if trying to smooth out the growing tension.

"There are only four of them stationed there. Not exactly an army. We dealt with them pretty quickly."

"Four rangers?" Austin asked. "Must have been such a challenge."

"You're underestimating how annoying they can be," Christopher said. "But their main job is to make sure normal people don't wander into Pokémon territories. I'm sure you know why."

"I do," Austin said, the paper bag shifting as he nodded. "But I like to let my 'goons'—" he stressed the word—"explain things. Makes them feel important."

Christopher chose to ignore Austin's earlier jab, though his face tightened. "Mt. Moon's huge," he continued. "There are tons of Pokémon colonies hidden inside. The public trail is set up so it avoids those territories completely. The rangers are there to make sure people stick to it. Because if someone wanders off and ends up in a colony..."

"They don't come back."

"Exactly," Christopher muttered, casting a glance toward the shadowy forest around them. "Most people don't get how dangerous it is. They think wild Pokémon are just obstacles, not predators."

Austin was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on the map in his hands. Then, without looking up, he asked, "And the trainers you've captured? What's happening to them?"

Christopher hesitated, sensing the weight of the question. He had to tread carefully. "We haven't... done anything to them," he said. "By executive orders, they're fed once a day, given water when they ask. Sure, it's not comfortable, but we're not torturing them or anything."

"No assault?"

Christopher shook his head quickly. "None. That kind of thing would bring way too much heat on us. Think about it—if it got out that Team Rocket was assaulting trainers, whether physically or..." He paused, swallowing hard, "...or worse, it'd be all over the news, and we don't want that kind of attention."

"Whose attention are you so afraid of?"

"The Pokémon League," Christopher said immediately. "You think they're just a sports league? They're way more than that."

"Enlighten me."

Christopher exhaled heavily. "Sure, they run tournaments, but that's just the public face. The League's a pipeline for talent—trainers who win get recruited into all kinds of organizations: the military, the Rangers, G-Force, even private security firms. That's why the League's top members are people you don't mess with."

"The Elite Four," Austin said flatly.

Christopher nodded. "Exactly. Those guys aren't just celebrities—they're powerhouses. If even one of them got wind of what we were doing here, it'd be over. They'd rip through our operations like tissue paper."

The conversation lifted a small weight off Austin's chest. Knowing that Team Rocket hadn't crossed certain lines—at least not here on Mt. Moon—was a relief. If someone had been subjected to something truly heinous because of their hunt for Vee, because of him, Austin knew he would never forgive himself.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice calm but pointed. "Do you know Sird?"

"Yeah, I've met her."

"She killed some Beedrill in Viridian Forest," Austin said evenly. "Why not avoid that kind of mess?"

"Pokémon die in the wild all the time. A few dead Beedrill don't raise any red flags. But humans? That's a whole different story. You kill a person, and suddenly the League, the government, and the media are all over us. Pokémon deaths can be swept under the rug. Human deaths can't."

Austin hummed, the sound low and thoughtful. "Convenient," he said, the word heavy with unspoken judgment.

Christopher stayed quiet, unsure of how to respond. The conversation had veered into uncomfortable territory, and he didn't trust himself not to say something stupid.

Austin held out his hand. "Hand it over."

Christopher hesitated for a split second before pulling the TM from his pocket and placing it in Austin's hand. He didn't need to ask why—he already knew the answer. The boy wasn't leaving anything to chance.

"Is this, like, a justice thing?" Christopher asked after a moment, his tone edging on awe. "You're gonna return all this stuff to the trainers it belongs to?"

Austin snorted. "Hell no. Finders keepers. I'm gonna use it."

"Oh." Christopher blinked. "And the uniforms?"

Austin glanced at the pile of black fabric and shrugged. "Free fabric. I'll use it to make new clothes."

Christopher raised an eyebrow. "You know those uniforms are military-grade, right? Pretty durable stuff."

Austin's hand paused mid-motion. He hadn't known that, but he wasn't about to admit it. "Exactly," he said, as if it had been his plan all along.

Austin checked his watch and folded up the map. "Okay, break's over. Let's move. We have to take down Team Rocket before sunrise."

Christopher glanced at Venonat, then at the unconscious grunt tied to a tree. "You're crazy, you know that?"

Austin tilted his head, the paper bag rustling slightly. "Maybe. But crazy gets results."

"Fair enough."

----

The entrance to Mt. Moon was as foreboding as the rumors suggested. Slate stood there in the uniform of a Pokémon Ranger. The ground was a coarse mixture of gravel and dirt, littered with faint tracks from trainers who had passed through earlier in the day. The massive cave mouth yawned before him, its interior pitch black except for the faint flicker of a dim, oil-fed lantern hanging from a rusty hook. The flickering light barely illuminated the craggy edges of the entrance, casting shadows that danced ominously in the night.

Around Slate, the air was cold and still, with only the occasional whisper of wind threading through the pine trees dotting the rocky terrain. Beside him, another grunt—a woman with short, dark hair tied back into a ponytail—was watching the mountain's path with mild disinterest. Both were on guard duty, but neither expected much trouble. After all, who would be foolish enough to come here at 4 o'clock in the morning?

The stillness was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Christopher stumbled into view, dragging what appeared to be an unconscious Austin behind him. The boy's face was obscured by a scarf, his limp body slung over Christopher's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Boss," Christopher called out. "I captured the trainer Executive Arianna was talking about!"

Slate straightened up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well, well," he said, his voice deep and gravelly as he sauntered toward Christopher. "Looks like you might've actually done something useful for once, grunt."

Christopher flinched at the condescending tone but forced a sheepish grin. "Yeah, boss. Lucky break, right?"

Slate chuckled. "You're lucky Arianna isn't here to see this pathetic excuse of a haul. You think dragging a kid in like this is impressive? She'd eat you alive."

Christopher unceremoniously threw Austin off his shoulder, letting the unconscious boy hit the ground with a dull thud.

"Hey, easy there."

"I'll do what I want," Christopher snapped, rolling his shoulder as if Austin had been some unbearable burden.

"Oi, the grunt's grown himself a pair of brass ones now, huh?" Slate mockingly patted Christopher's face, his fingers tapping just enough to be irritating.

Christopher slapped Slate's hand away, glaring. "Of course I've got balls. I just captured Arianna's target and the Eevee the big boss has been searching for. You know what that means? Sweet promotion. Maybe even a transfer out of this backwater assignment. So, maybe you should show me some respect, bitch." He blew a raspberry.

Slate's smirk dropped like a stone. His jaw tightened, and a vein pulsed in his temple as he stepped forward, grabbing Christopher by the collar and yanking him close. "Watch it—"

But before Slate could finish his threat, Austin's body shifted—too fast for an unconscious man. In one fluid motion, he twisted and drove a taser straight into Slate's thigh.

The electric crackle filled the air as Slate's eyes went wide with shock. His body seized up, muscles locking as he let out a guttural growl of pain, yet surprisingly, he stood up. Unfortunately for the man, Spearow threw something toward him from the sky. Just as he reached for his Pokéball, a flash of color exploded above him. The Oddish unleashed a cloud of Sleep Powder that blanketed Slate, the shimmering particles clinging to his body. His eyes fluttered shut, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, the female grunt barely had time to react before Pikachu appeared in front of her. The electric mouse unleashed a point-blank Flash, blinding her completely. She stumbled backward, hands clawing at her eyes, just as Rattata leapt forward and delivered a powerful Iron Tail to her stomach. She hit the ground with a heavy thud, unmoving.

Austin dusted himself off, motioning for his team to regroup.

"Good job, everyone." He crouched down, quickly stripping Slate of his Pokéballs, satchel, and—after a moment of hesitation—his uniform. He left Slate in nothing but his underwear, tying him securely to a tree.

Turning to the unconscious female grunt, Austin frowned. "Mama raised me better," he muttered under his breath. He decided against taking her uniform, settling for removing her Pokéballs and securing her hands with rope instead.

"What now, boss?"

Austin straightened, holding up the items he had looted. "You're going to the camp where the grunts are sleeping. Use Oddish to Sleep Powder them, loot everything useful, and head to Plan B."

"We're still doing Plan B?!"

"Yes," Austin said firmly. "Take Sandslash with you. I'll handle the prisoners."

Christopher nodded and disappeared into the shadows with Sandslash at his side.

Austin pulled out the crumpled map, his fingers tracing the marked route toward the ranger outpost hidden deep within Mt. Moon. He unfolded it carefully, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the path. With a slow exhale, he secured the map back into his bag, adjusted the straps, and climbed onto his bike.

The cavernous walls of the mountain loomed around him, jagged shadows dancing under the faint glow of his headlamp. The bike's wheels hummed softly against the dirt as he pedaled forward, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence of the tunnels.

After a few minutes of riding, he came to an abrupt stop. His heart seemed to stall as his eyes landed on something out of place—a shattered red convertible, its paint gleaming faintly in the dim light of the cave. The vehicle was tilted at an awkward angle, its front left wheel blown out and the body scuffed with deep scratches.

Gary's car.

Torn, abandoned, left to rot in the eerie quiet of the mountain.

Austin felt a strange, creeping numbness crawl over him, starting in his chest and radiating outward. His grip on the bike handles slackened, his arms hanging limply at his sides. It wasn't shock—it was a hollow, suffocating weight that settled deep in his core. His thoughts slowed, grinding to a halt as if his brain couldn't—or wouldn't—process what this meant.

This was Gary's car. Which meant Gary had been here. Which meant—

A small, sharp jolt brought him back. Pikachu nudged his arm with a spark from its cheek, the faint zap snapping him out of the trance. Austin blinked, his breath hitching as his fingers curled back around the handlebars.

"Yeah, I know," he murmured, his voice hoarse and distant. He reached down, giving Pikachu a light pat on the head. "I'm taking responsibility. I'll make this right."

-----

The ranger outpost was a dimly lit, cramped structure carved into the side of Mt. Moon. Its walls, made of rough-hewn stone, radiated dampness. The air was thick, humid, and stank of sweat and unwashed bodies. On the floor, scattered haphazardly like forgotten toys, lay 26 trainers, most of them children barely older than 10. Their wrists and ankles were tied tightly with thick rope, the coarse material digging into their skin. A few older trainers were slumped against the walls, their faces pale and hollow, their eyes open but empty, staring at nothing.

The flickering light of a single lantern hanging from the ceiling cast long, jagged shadows that danced eerily across the room. Most of the kids were asleep, curled up for warmth, but their sleep was restless—filled with soft whimpers, muffled sobs, and the occasional twitch of a body jolting awake from a nightmare. The small water canisters on a table near the door were almost empty, and the stale scent of fear and despair hung heavy in the room like a suffocating blanket.

At the center of the outpost, two female Team Rocket grunts stood near a makeshift table littered with half-eaten rations.

"Ugh," groaned Marla, the taller of the two, a lean woman with sharp features and a perpetual scowl. "I'm so over this assignment. Babysitting a bunch of snot-nosed brats wasn't what I signed up for."

"Yeah, well, at least they're not screaming anymore," Della, the shorter grunt, replied, her stockier frame hunched over as she stuffed a cracker into her mouth. "Could be worse. Remember that one kid from Viridian who wouldn't stop yelling about his dad being a cop?"

"Yeah, but quieter isn't better. Quiet just means they've given up. Creepy little zombies."

"Whatever," Della said, her voice muffled by a mouthful of food. "It's not like they're our problem. Execs just want them alive. No point stressing about it."

Marla snorted, tapping her boot against the floor. "Still, doesn't feel right. Even for us. I mean, look at them. Half of them look like they'd keel over if we so much as sneezed in their direction."

"Yeah, well, we don't get paid to feel right," Della said, shrugging. "Besides, Arianna would rip us apart if we stepped out of line. No touching, no tormenting, no fun."

"No fun," Marla echoed bitterly. She grabbed a ration bar from the table and bit into it angrily. "It's like she's got a goddamn rulebook for how to be a boring villain. No killing, no beating the prisoners, no..." She gestured vaguely.

Their banter was cut short by a sharp knock at the door.

Both women froze, their casual demeanor vanishing in an instant. Marla's hand instinctively went to her belt, fingers brushing over the Pokéballs clipped there. "You expecting someone?"

"No," Della whispered, her voice low. She glanced toward the door, her eyes narrowing. "Maybe Slate?"

Marla frowned, motioning for her partner to stay quiet. She took a cautious step toward the door, her boots scuffing softly against the floor. The knock came again, louder this time, echoing through the outpost like a challenge.

"Who's there?"

No answer.

Della grabbed a flashlight from the table, clicking it on. "This better not be the men playing pranks," she muttered.

The duo suddenly heard the sound of water splashing onto the door. The tension in the room eased immediately, and Della rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, screw you guys for pranking us," Della muttered, slamming the flashlight onto the table.

From beyond the door, a distorted laugh echoed—a tinny, artificial sound, like it was coming through a walkie-talkie. The laugh was exaggerated, almost cartoonish, but familiar enough to make them drop their guard.

"Yeah, hilarious," Marla said with a sarcastic snort. "Slate probably sent one of the new grunts to mess with us."

She unlocked the door with an annoyed huff and pulled it open, only to be met with the sharp, glowing tail of Rattata swinging straight at her face. The Iron Tail connected with a sickening thud, and Marla crumpled to the ground, unconscious before she even hit the floor.

"What the—!" Della shot to her feet, but her words were cut short as the puddle at her feet began to shift. The water coalesced, reforming into the sleek, shimmering figure of a Vaporeon.

Before she could react, a blast of water hit her square in the chest, drenching her completely. The shock was enough to knock her back, but what came next sealed her fate—Pikachu darted out from the shadows, his cheeks sparking brightly as he unleashed a Thunder Shock. The electricity coursed through the water, amplifying its effect, and Della let out a strangled yelp before collapsing beside her partner, twitching slightly before going still.

The room was silent for a heartbeat, save for the faint hum of Pikachu's sparks fading into the air.

Then, like a floodgate breaking, the prisoners erupted.

A wave of relief swept through the tied-up trainers as they stirred, their once-empty eyes lighting up with hope. Murmurs of "We're saved!" and "Someone came for us!" filled the room. A boy no older than ten began sobbing openly, his face buried in his hands. An older girl with a bruised cheek whispered, "Thank you," over and over again as if it were a mantra.

But not everyone was celebrating.

Austin's eyes immediately locked onto one person in the back of the room. Gary Oak.

Unlike the others, who looked exhausted but relatively unharmed, Gary lay slumped against the wall, unconscious. His wrists were tied tightly behind him, his usually pristine hair matted with sweat and dirt. His face was bruised, one eye swollen shut, and a streak of dried blood trailed from the corner of his mouth. Surrounding him were his cheerleaders, their faces pale and streaked with tears. They huddled close to him, some whispering his name in desperate pleas for him to wake up, while others glared toward the grunts, their fear barely masking their fury.

Pretty sure Gary wouldn't stay still if he could help it, Austin thought grimly. The sight of him beaten and subdued only reinforced how far things had gone.

"Hero?" someone called out, their voice trembling with hope.

Austin blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He realized the trainers were looking at him now, their faces a mixture of gratitude and desperation. Cries for help filled the room, overlapping and frantic.

"Help us!"

"Please untie me!"

"They barely feed us!"

Austin raised his hand to silence them, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. "Don't worry," he said, scanning the room. "I'm going to help you all. But you need to stay quiet—"

A voice interrupted him, cutting through the chaos like a knife.

"So that someone dangerous doesn't get alerted?"

The room fell deathly silent.

Austin's blood turned to ice as he whipped around, his heart pounding in his ears.

Standing just a few feet away, leaning casually against the wall, was Arianna. Her lips curled into a cold, dangerous smile as her sharp eyes took in the scene. She looked almost amused, like a predator toying with its prey.

"Well," she said, her voice smooth and dripping with menace. "Looks like the little hero decided to play savior. How adorable."

Austin's Pokémon immediately reacted, their anger palpable in the tense air.

The oppressive fear in the room seemed to shift as the Pokémon stood their ground, their anger a blazing defiance against the cold smile Arianna wore—a smile that widened as if she was savoring the challenge, making the air in the outpost feel suddenly colder.

"I hope you're ready to bleed for that bravery!"


Chapter 29: Chapter no.29 Austin vs Arianna

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•••••••••••••••••

The rain had just stopped, leaving the air heavy and cool, the kind of silence that settles after a storm. Arianna stood in the muddy yard, her red hair sticking to her face as she gazed at him—her son, her little Silver. Seven years old, with a shock of wild red hair that matched her own and piercing silver eyes that seemed to see everything. He was laughing, his tiny boots splashing into puddles, water spraying around him like a halo of joy.

"Mommy, look!" he called out, his voice high and light, his grin wide enough to melt her heart. He jumped into another puddle, the splash soaking his pants. He didn't care. He was so full of life, so happy, so hers.

Arianna couldn't help but smile, her chest tightening with that overwhelming, all-consuming love only a mother could feel. For a moment, the world felt right.

But then a shadow fell over them.

She turned sharply, her heart lurching as a massive Alpha Fearow descended from the sky, its talons crackling with dark energy. Perched on its back was a figure cloaked in black, their face hidden behind a mask of ice. Two black, soulless eyes and a mouth frozen in an eerie, eternal grimace stared back at her, framed by long white hair that whipped in the wind.

"No!" Arianna screamed, her voice breaking as she stumbled forward, reaching for her son.

But the Fearow swooped low, its talons outstretched, and she could do nothing but watch as they closed around her son's tiny body.

"Silver!"

Her legs wouldn't move. Her arms felt like lead. She was rooted to the ground, helpless, as the bird shot back into the sky, her son's terrified screams ripping through the air.

"NOOOOO!"

Arianna jolted awake, her entire body lurching forward as her chest heaved for breath. Her eyes flew open, wild and unfocused, the nightmare still clinging to her like a second skin.

She was in the ranger outpost. The room spun as she blinked, trying to shake off the lingering images of her dream. The cold sweat on her skin made her shiver. Her breathing was ragged, her hands trembling as they gripped the edges of the wooden chair she had passed out in.

The soft ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound in the room. It was steady, unfeeling, and yet it tethered her back to reality. She stared at the clock's hands, unblinking, as the echoes of her son's cries faded, replaced by the suffocating silence of her waking world.

It had been two years.

Two years since that day.

And yet she could still hear him, still see him, still feel his little hand slipping out of hers as though it had happened only moments ago. Her chest ached, an old wound tearing open anew.

Arianna pressed her palms hard against her ears, her nails biting into her scalp. But it didn't stop the memories, the guilt, the never-ending refrain of You weren't strong enough. You weren't enough to save him.

Her hands dropped to her lap, shaking as she stared at them. These hands failed him.

She dragged her fingers through her damp red hair, slick with sweat, and leaned back in her chair, staring up at the stained ceiling. Her mind wouldn't stop racing. Silver's laughter mixed with the icy silence that had replaced Giovanni's love after their son vanished.

She had once thought of Giovanni as the sun in her universe, a magnetic force that pulled her in and made her believe she was someone important, someone who mattered. He had loved her once. She was sure of it. She remembered the way his eyes softened when she first told him she was pregnant, the way he held her hand, the way he whispered, "We're going to have a family, Ari."

But that man was gone.

The day Silver disappeared, something broke in Giovanni. He became a hollow shell, burying himself in his work, his plans, his empire. She'd tried to reach him, to pull him back, to remind him that she was still there, that they still had each other. But he didn't care.

And maybe he was right not to.

Because she had failed too.

I should have been stronger.

The constant tension in their marriage had been unbearable. Every conversation turned into an argument, every glance was filled with unspoken blame. Giovanni had once called her his queen, but now he barely looked at her. And when he did, his eyes were empty, cold, like she was nothing more than another one of his subordinates.

She clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging into her palms. She couldn't cry. She refused to cry.

Instead, she thought about the stranger out there—the mystery trainer who had slipped through their grasp again and again. How someone so young had managed to evade her team this long was infuriating. But more than that, it was dangerous. She couldn't afford to let her guard down, not when her failure here would only give Giovanni another reason to discard her completely.

He didn't love her anymore. She knew that. But she couldn't lose his respect too.

The clock's ticking grew louder in her ears, each second a reminder of how much time she was wasting. She pushed herself to her feet, her movements stiff and sluggish.

"I don't have time for this," she muttered under her breath.

Arianna grabbed the handheld transceiver. "Slate," she called out. "Give me some good news. Is the brat food yet?"

Silence.

Arianna's frown deepened. She tapped the device, irritation flaring. "Slate. Report."

Still nothing.

Her lips thinned. Of course, that idiot's probably trying to score with some other grunt. Slate had a reputation, one that Arianna usually ignored because, for all his flaws, his loyalty was absolute. And loyalty in their line of work was as rare as a shiny Pokémon—it was invaluable. But there was a limit to how far her patience stretched.

With a growl of frustration, she clicked through the other channels, cycling through each captain's frequency.

The only answer was silence, static crackling faintly like a whisper in her ears.

Arianna froze, her mind racing. This wasn't laziness. It wasn't incompetence. There was only one explanation.

The boy.

He'd taken them all out.

The thought gnawed at her pride, sharp and unrelenting. Arianna's jaw tightened as a flood of questions surged in her mind.

Was it revenge?

She exhaled slowly, her expression hardening into a mask of cold focus. Reaching for a Pokéball at her hip, she pressed the release button, a flash of light spilling forth as her Pokémon materialized.

The towering form of her Honchkrow emerged, its dark-blue plumage glinting faintly under the dim ranger outpost lighting. The bird stood proud and imposing, its massive feather crest reminiscent of a fedora, its white chest puffed out like a mob boss straight out of a noir film. Despite its blind eyes, Honchkrow exuded confidence, the kind that only came from years of training and trust.

"Let's see if our guest is still playing hide-and-seek."

She crouched slightly, her hand brushing over Honchkrow's chest, feeling the soft rise and fall of its breath. She knew this Pokémon better than any other—her starter, her partner, abandoned as a Murkrow because it was blind, deemed useless and weak. She had found it, broken and forgotten, and made it strong. Now it was her sharpest weapon, her most loyal soldier.

"Anyone nearby?"

Honchkrow let out a low, resonant screech, its wings flaring as it adjusted to the surroundings. Arianna had trained it to use echolocation—a painstaking process that had taken years of trial and error. The bird emitted a series of sharp, high-pitched clicks, the soundwaves bouncing off the walls of the outpost and into the surrounding terrain.

A pause.

Then, Honchkrow's head twitched to one side, its beak pointing toward the far side of the outpost. It screeched again, this time with more urgency, its talons scratching against the stone floor.

"What is it?"

Honchkrow shook its head, a habit it had when it couldn't pinpoint movement.

"So they're not sneaking up on me..." Arianna straightened. She smirked. "Oh. Looks like they still want to play the hero."

Her voice dripped with mock amusement, but there was an edge to it—a dark undercurrent of danger.

Honchkrow flapped its wings, the sound reverberating in the quiet space.

"Let's go, my dear," Arianna said. "Our prey thinks they're smart. Let's remind them who's really in control."

-----

Austin clicked his tongue, his mind racing as he locked eyes with Arianna. Too soon. She's here too soon, he thought, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The flicker of movement behind her drew his gaze upward, where Honchkrow hovered. He felt it—the faint rush of wind brushing against his soaked skin, a telltale sign.

Tailwind, his mind noted grimly. She's boosting her speed. That means I don't have time to escape.

His heart pounded as he released Spearow from its Pokéball. The tiny bird appeared with a determined screech, wings bristling with energy. He glanced at his team—Pikachu stood at his side, cheeks sparking faintly, and Vee, now in Jolteon form, shifted its stance.

"Not going to release your other Pokémon, Arianna?"

Arianna's smile was sharp and condescending. "For you?" she said, her tone as smooth as silk. "You're not exactly someone that requires my full power."

Cocky bitch. But she wasn't wrong. If he made one mistake, she wouldn't need her full team to deal with him.

"Thundershock!"

Pikachu's cheeks sparked to life as arcs of yellow lightning exploded toward Honchkrow. At the same moment, Jolteon fired its own blast of electricity, the charged beams streaking through the air like bolts of vengeance.

"Whirlwind!"

Honchkrow's wings unfurled, and with a single powerful flap, it unleashed a torrent of wind that roared through the room. The electricity was snuffed out mid-air, dissipating harmlessly in the gust. Austin felt the force hit him like a truck, sending him and his team flying backward. His shoulder slammed into the cold stone floor, and he skidded into the pile of prisoners, who cried out in panic.

Austin groaned, the sharp ache in his ribs a stark reminder of how overpowered he was in this situation. Damn it. He could feel the prisoners' fearful eyes on him, but he didn't have time to reassure them. He needed to think.

Austin stayed motionless, sprawled out on the cold stone floor. He cracked one eye open just enough to glance at Arianna. She stood in the doorway, her arms crossed and her sharp eyes locked on him.

Honchkrow didn't make a move either. Arianna wasn't stupid. She wasn't coming in, and she wasn't sending Honchkrow or any of her other Pokémon forward. She was waiting, assessing.

Slowly, his fingers inched toward the two Pokéballs clipped to his belt, careful not to make any sudden movements that would alert her. His mind began piecing together a plan, each move clicking into place like a puzzle.

The prisoners stayed silent, each one hoping that remaining unnoticed would spare them from harm.

"You can get up," Arianna said suddenly, her voice cutting through the stillness. "I'm not underestimating you like last time."

"Aww, I thought that would work," Austin said, brushing off his clothes with exaggerated casualness. "Like catching your grandma after a shower—a very ugly surprise."

Arianna's expression didn't waver, but her Honchkrow let out a low, confused caw.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Austin shrugged. "Oh, just something weird to get under your skin. Keeps the mind sharp." He turned slightly. "Ever happened to you? What about you, Rattata?"

"Enough games," Arianna snapped. "If you've got a move, make it. Otherwise—"

"It's a distraction, bitch," Austin cut her off. "Now!"

In one fluid motion, he whipped out Spearow and Vee's Pokéballs, the red light pulling both Pokémon back in before Arianna could react. The second the balls clicked shut, Rattata launched forward with Quick Attack, her small form a blur of speed as she darted across the room.

"Honchkrow—"

Before she could finish, Rattata slammed into the wall near the corner of the room, her tiny body ricocheting off the alarm switch. A deafening CLANG echoed as the sprinklers above roared to life, drenching everyone in a sudden downpour.

Water poured down in heavy streams, soaking everything in the room. The metallic tang of water mixing with stone filled the air. The prisoners shivered, some coughing in the cold downpour, while Austin's team shook off the water, their drenched forms glinting faintly in the dim light.

"Your timing's off, brat," Arianna mocked. "What was the plan here? Evolve into a Wet-Type before I capture you?"

"Flash!"

Pikachu's body sparked instantly, electricity surging across its soaked fur. With a sudden burst, the room erupted into a searing white light. The intense brightness combined with the cascading water created a dazzling effect, scattering the light into hundreds of shimmering beams that refracted off the droplets. The outpost transformed into a disorienting, blinding storm of illumination.

Arianna cursed, raising an arm to shield her face. Even with her eyes shut tight, the light penetrated through her lids, a kaleidoscope of white-hot pain exploding behind her vision. The refracted light turned the water into a mirror-like shield, amplifying the effect and leaving her momentarily stunned.

Honchkrow, blind as it already was, remained unaffected.

Austin quickly pressed two PokéBalls into the trembling hands of Amanda—one of Gary's cheerleaders. Her eyes widened in confusion and fear.

"Hide them," he whispered urgently. "Don't let them see."

Amanda nodded shakily, clutching the PokéBalls tightly to her chest as Austin turned toward the window. Without hesitation, he slammed his foot against the glass with all his strength. The pane shattered outward with a sharp, ear-splitting crash, shards scattering like falling stars into the damp room.

He didn't waste a second. Reaching into his bag, he grabbed a small box and hurled it onto the ground. The compact object expanded instantly, unfolding into his trusty bike with a series of metallic clicks and whirs.

"Still can't believe this works," he muttered, mounting the bike. Pikachu leaped onto his shoulder, while Rattata hopped onto the back, both of them alert and ready.

Austin pushed off, pedaling furiously as the bike shot forward through the pouring rain. Behind him, Arianna snarled, recovering from the flash.

"Honchkrow! Sky Attack!"

Honchkrow's body became enveloped in a sharp white aura.

Austin didn't look back, his heart pounding as he pedaled harder.

"Now!"

Back in the room, Amanda's trembling hands tightened around the PokéBalls. Her hesitation lasted only a second before she hurled one forward with all her might.

The PokéBall burst open, and Spearow erupted like a missile, grabbing its own PokéBall mid-air. Its form instantly glowed with the sharp energy of Aerial Ace. With an ear-piercing screech, Spearow shot through the air like a knife.

Arianna's eyes tracked the blur of Spearow's assault. The sheer force of its attack sent a gust of wind surging forward, whipping her crimson hair wildly around her face.

But Honchkrow was faster. It intercepted Spearow with a thunderous squawk, its body aglow as it unleashed its charged-up Sky Attack. The two attacks collided mid-air in an explosion of force, sending a shockwave reverberating through the area. Feathers scattered like falling leaves as the impact left Spearow vulnerable.

Austin's chest tightened as he saw Spearow pinned under Honchkrow's crushing grip.

Arianna's suspicion sharpened into realization as she spotted something clutched tightly in the tiny bird's beak—a PokéBall.

The PokéBall snapped open mid-flight, releasing Vee in its shimmering Vaporeon form. Its liquid body glimmered briefly in the moonlight before it launched a forceful Water Gun directly at Honchkrow. The stream of water collided with the larger bird Pokémon, drenching it entirely and forcing it to retreat mid-air with an indignant squawk.

Arianna jumped back, her boots splashing in the muddy ground outside the outpost. Vee didn't linger. The moment the attack landed, it returned to its PokéBall in a flash of red light, leaving Spearow to catch the capsule in its beak once more.

The small bird wheeled around, its tiny wings beating furiously against the rain as it shot toward Austin, who was pedaling with everything he had.

Arianna's lips pressed into a tight line, her mind racing. How is he able to communicate so quickly with his Pokémon? It wasn't just fast—it was precise, like a seamless chain of commands. The tactics weren't improvised; they were fluid, perfectly timed even under pressure.

Did he plan this from the start? she wondered, clenching her fists. Even anticipating a surprise encounter with me?

She couldn't let him go.

"You're not getting away that easily!"

Arianna hurled a PokéBall forward like a fastball. The ball cracked open mid-air, releasing an Arbok with a serpentine hiss. Its massive hood flared wide, displaying a menacing face-like pattern of eyespots and sharp, black markings that glared at Austin and the others.

Rattata's Quick Claw shimmered faintly in the dim light as her small frame blurred forward with incredible speed.

Arbok's yellow eyes narrowed, and with a guttural hiss, its fangs ignited in searing flames. The massive serpent lunged forward, its jaws snapping with deadly precision.

The bite connected.

Arbok's Fire Fang clamped down on Rattata's back, searing her fur and flesh. The acrid smell of burnt fur filled the air as Rattata let out a high-pitched squeak of pain. Flames licked at her body, her legs buckling under the agony. Tears welled up in her eyes, but even as her small body trembled, she didn't give up.

"Sand in its eyes!" Austin shouted.

From above, Spearow swooped into action, wings beating furiously as it positioned itself behind Arbok. Without hesitation, the bird flapped hard, sending a cloud of dirt and mud flying directly into Arbok's eyes.

The sand struck true, coating the serpent's face and forcing its eyes shut. Arbok hissed and thrashed, its grip on Rattata loosening as it recoiled, blinded by the attack.

Rattata seized the moment. Tears streamed from her wide eyes as she twisted her body free. Despite the searing pain coursing through her, she gritted her teeth, her tail glowing brighter as she poured every ounce of her strength into a single, defiant strike on Arbok's jaw. The impact reverberated through the area, and the massive snake recoiled violently, hissing in fury as it skidded backward.

"Spearow, get her!" Austin shouted.

Spearing through the air, Spearow dived low, talons locking gently onto Rattata's scruff. With a determined flap, he carried her into the air just as Arbok lunged again, its fangs snapping shut on empty space.

Austin pedaled harder, his drenched clothes clinging to him as his legs burned with effort. The tiny bird swooped toward the bike, its wings laboring under the weight of Rattata. With a final burst of strength, Spearow gently deposited her onto the back of the bike.

Pikachu immediately steadied her, his tiny paws carefully holding her in place as Rattata let out a weak, pained squeak. Her eyes fluttered, but the determined glint in them hadn't faded.

"Good job, you two!" Austin called over his shoulder, his voice steady even as his heart hammered in his chest.

There was no time to process the relief of getting Rattata out of harm's way. Behind them, Arbok hissed furiously.

"Pikachu, Thundershock! Vee, Water Gun!" Austin shouted, his voice sharp and commanding.

Above them, Spearow soared, releasing Vee's PokéBall mid-flight. The capsule burst open with a flash, and Vaporeon materialized mid-air. Its sleek body twisted gracefully as it launched a high-pressure Water Gun directly at the serpent. The torrent slammed into Arbok, drenching its scales and momentarily throwing it off balance.

In perfect sync, Pikachu unleashed a Thundershock. The crackling electricity coursed through the water and struck the serpent with a sizzling snap. Arbok convulsed under the dual attack, its hissing drowned out by the rain and chaos. The combined assault created a smokescreen of steam and mist, obscuring the battlefield as Austin veered into a side tunnel—one of the unmarked paths away from the public trail.

His walkie-talkie crackled to life.

"Boss, I've sleep-powdered the rest of the grunts and captains in their sleep," Christopher's voice came through, laced with triumph. "Looted them too. You won't believe how much stuff I found. Bastards really kept the good stuff for themselves."

Austin's eyes stayed locked on the uneven path ahead. "List them out. Fast."

Christopher began rattling off the items: TMs, badges, high-quality PokéBalls, evolution stones, and a ton of cash. Austin's adrenaline-fueled brain processed the inventory, already forming contingencies.

"Chris," Austin cut in. "Is Plan B good to go?"

"Yeah, I'm working on it," Christopher replied.

"Good. Change of plans," Austin said, pedaling harder as he took a sharp turn, the damp air stinging his face. "Do you know where Arianna keeps the prisoners' PokéBalls?"

There was a pause before Christopher answered. "Yeah, there's an outpost near the back of Mt. Moon's tunnel. Probably there."

"Perfect. I want you there. Get the PokéBalls, free the prisoners, and get out of Mt. Moon."

"What about Plan B?"

"I'm taking over Plan B," Austin said, his tone calm but resolute. "Now, listen carefully. I need you to leave these items behind for me. Got it?"

The two exchanged a flurry of quick instructions, Austin's voice steady despite the chaos around him. Christopher's last words came through the static: "Good luck, boss."

A few minutes later, Austin arrived at a dead-end cave. The light from a lantern bounced off the jagged stone walls, creating twisting shadows that danced in the enclosed space.

With practiced precision, Austin leaned hard into the turn, executing an Akira slide. The tires screeched as he tilted the bike just enough to come to a dramatic stop, the back wheel spinning slightly before momentum died. Gravel and dust scattered around him, the echo of his entrance fading into the stillness of the cave.

Breathing heavily, Austin hopped off his bike, his drenched clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. His eyes landed on the bag Christopher had left behind, neatly placed beside a small lantern.

Crouching down, Austin tore the bag open and began rummaging through its contents. His fingers moved quickly, checking each item—TMs, healing supplies, and spare PokéBalls—his mind racing as he pieced together the next phase of his plan.

"Everyone," he said, turning to his team. "We have about five minutes before Arianna catches up to us."

His Pokémon watched him intently, their exhaustion and injuries evident but their resolve unwavering.

"We aren't strong enough to take her on directly," Austin admitted. The statement hung in the air like a grim truth, but no one flinched. Not even Spearow retorted. They all knew it was true.

"But I have a plan," Austin continued, meeting each of their gazes. The absolute trust he saw in their eyes fueled him.

A rustling sound came from the ground, and Austin turned to see Miss Sandslash popping out of the dirt, her quills bristling and her sharp eyes focused. She gave a small nod, acknowledging the urgency of the situation.

"Looks like everyone's here," Austin said, his lips curling into a faint smirk despite the tension. He knelt down, gesturing for everyone to gather around. "Alright, here's how we're going to do this..."

-----

[10 Minutes Later]

Austin sat alone in the dead-end cave, the glow of the lantern casting an eerie light on the paper bag he now wore instead of his soaked scarf. He slouched deliberately, his body language casual—almost too casual—as though he weren't cornered by one of the most dangerous people in Team Rocket.

The sound of measured footsteps echoed through the narrow tunnel. Arianna emerged from the shadows, her confident stride and piercing gaze commanding the space.

"Well, well," she said, her voice dripping with mockery. "A paper bag? What's the look? Inspired by... Ariados-Man? Or was it Zubatman?"

Austin tilted his head slightly, as if considering her words, but said nothing.

"You know," Arianna continued, "you're probably one of the only people who's given me this much trouble in a long time. You're young, smart, and certainly stronger than the average trainer. Why not join Team Rocket? Give me that Eevee, and I'll make you my second-in-command."

Austin leaned back against the cave wall, humming thoughtfully, as though genuinely contemplating her offer. After a moment, he spoke. "I have some demands, then."

"Demands?" She arched an eyebrow. "Bold of you. Fine, let's hear them."

"I'll give you a hint. It involves you, a maid outfit, and my bed."

For a split second, Arianna's confident demeanor cracked. Her expression flickered between shock and incredulity before she quickly recomposed herself. "Wow," she mused, her tone biting. "No one has the audacity to speak to me like that. I'm almost impressed."

"You're right," Austin replied smoothly. "Sorry, maybe that was too much to ask. After all... you really don't look smart enough to figure out how to use a mop."

Her smile faltered, replaced by a dark glare. She stepped forward, her voice low and dangerous. "Oh, I'm going to make sure you wish Team Rocket didn't have a no-kill policy."

Austin raised his hands in mock fear, mimicking a trembling Waluigi. "Wah, I'm scared! Wah!"

Arianna's expression hardened, but before she could retort, a faint rattling sound echoed through the cave. Her eyes narrowed, sharp and alert.

"What did you do?" she demanded.

"Well," Austin said with exaggerated calm, "this is my plan to defeat you."

"You think you can defeat me?" she asked, her tone dripping with disdain.

"Third time's the charm, right?"

"And what's that going to look like?" She stepped closer, her presence looming. "You running away again?"

"No, it's going to look like me asking for help."

"Help? From who?" she snapped.

Austin's voice turned cold, his words cutting through the tension. "Behind this wall lies the biggest Zubat colony in all of Mt. Moon."

Arianna's eyes darted to the stone wall behind him, her confident smirk fading slightly. She took a cautious step back. "You're bluffing."

Austin crouched suddenly, curling into a protective turtle position. His voice was eerily calm. "Guess you'll have to find out."

The rattling grew louder—a skittering, fluttering noise that vibrated through the cave walls. Arianna instinctively braced herself as Pikachu leapt from a hole in the rock above, sparks flying from its cheeks.

"Pika!" Pikachu's voice rang out, and the cavern was instantly flooded with light as it used Flash.

The blinding illumination pierced the darkness, revealing the jagged edges of the cave and casting sharp shadows. Suddenly, the wall behind Austin began to crack, chunks of stone crumbling away as the sound of hundreds of wings erupted into the air.

The Zubats awoke in confusion, their shrill cries filling the space with a deafening cacophony. A massive swarm of small, dark bodies surged forward, wings flapping in chaotic frenzy. The damp air reeked of disturbed bat Pokémon, their high-pitched screeches grating against the ears.

Arianna's Honchkrow flapped its wings furiously, attempting to create a gust to fend off the swarm, but the sheer number of Zubats overwhelmed the narrow tunnel. The swarm engulfed the area, their erratic movements obscuring visibility.

"Damn you!" Arianna growled, shielding her face with her arms as the Zubats flew at her, disoriented and maddened by the light and noise.

Austin kept his head down, hands covering his ears as the rush of countless wings swept over him. Arianna's shouts and Honchkrow's frantic cawing filled the air, but he didn't dare lift his head.

"Good luck dealing with that!" he shouted over the chaos.

The cave felt alive, pulsing with the pandemonium of screeching Zubat and Golbat. Their wings beat furiously, creating a relentless storm of movement and sound. Arianna stood in the center of it all, blood dripping from a gash on her forehead where a stray Zubat had clawed her.

"Arbok, Rock Tomb! Now!"

Arbok hissed, its body coiling tightly as glowing energy gathered around it. With a powerful slam of its tail, jagged boulders erupted from the ground, encasing Arianna and her Pokémon in a protective circle. The stones formed a crude but sturdy shield, blocking out the relentless swarm of bats that spiraled above, their wings beating furiously against the air.

For a moment, it seemed Arianna had bought herself some time. The living wave of bats crashed against the stone barrier, their screeches muffled by the thick walls of the tomb. Inside, Arianna wiped blood and sweat from her brow, glancing at her battered team. Vileplume leaned heavily against one of the boulders, its petals shredded and its breaths labored. Arbok coiled protectively in front of her, ready to strike at any moment.

But the reprieve didn't last.

The Zubat and Golbat outside began to shriek in unison, their cries growing louder and louder until they reached a piercing crescendo. Supersonic waves echoed through the cave, vibrating violently against the walls of the Rock Tomb. Arianna's heart sank as the realization struck her—this wasn't just noise. It was an assault.

The sound was unbearable. Hundreds of Zubat and Golbat unleashing Supersonic at once created a deafening cacophony that reverberated through the narrow cavern. The boulders trembled under the auditory onslaught, cracks spidering across their surfaces as the sound waves battered them mercilessly. Arianna pressed her hands to her ears instinctively, but it was no use. The sound penetrated everything, shaking her resolve.

"Hold the line!" she shouted, her voice barely audible above the chaos.

Arbok thrashed violently, its head whipping from side to side as it hissed in pain, pupils dilated and unfocused. Honchkrow let out a distressed caw, its wings twitching erratically as it stumbled from its perch. Vileplume whimpered, its stubby legs buckling as it collapsed against the trembling rocks.

And then it happened.

A sharp, searing pain exploded in Arianna's right ear. For a moment, everything went silent. She gasped, staggering back as her vision swam, the world tilting unnaturally. Reaching out blindly, her fingers gripped the jagged edge of a boulder to steady herself. Warm blood trickled down the side of her face, staining her torn uniform.

Her right eardrum had ruptured.

Arianna gritted her teeth, the pain threatening to overwhelm her. But she refused to falter.

"Vileplume, Sunny Day! Light this place up!"

Trembling and battered, Vileplume obeyed. Tilting its massive flower toward the faint light filtering through the cracked wall, it released a pulse of golden energy. The confined space blazed with an artificial sun, the glaring light banishing the oppressive darkness. The Zubat and Golbat screeched in confusion, their night-sensitive senses thrown into disarray.

"Now, Solar Beam!"

Chlorophyll surged through Vileplume, the sunlight supercharging its strength. Its massive flower glowed brilliantly, humming with immense power. With a shattering roar, it unleashed a concentrated beam of golden energy. The Solar Beam carved through the swarm like a blade, knocking dozens of bats from the air. The sound of bodies hitting the ground echoed through the cave, mingling with the shrill cries of the survivors.

For the first time, Arianna felt a flicker of hope. Her strategy was working. The swarm's numbers were thinning. The overwhelming tide no longer seemed endless.

And then she heard it.

A low rumble vibrated through the cavern floor, growing louder with each passing second. Arianna turned, her sharp eyes narrowing as she scanned the area. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she spotted the source.

The wall to her left began to crumble, pieces of stone falling away to reveal a gaping hole. Standing within it was a Sandslash, its claws caked with dirt and stone dust, its silhouette framed by the artificial sunlight. In its claws was a sack bulging with Pokéballs.

The Sandslash locked eyes with her, its expression almost smug. Without hesitation, it tossed the bag into the chaos below.

"No—" Arianna started, but the word caught in her throat.

The sack hit the ground, and with a series of rapid bursts, the Pokéballs snapped open. One after another, Pokémon emerged in flashes of white light. The air filled with battle cries and roars as Rhyhorn, Machoke, Koffing, and others materialized, their bodies twisting in confusion. Arianna's stomach sank. These weren't wild Pokémon. These were hers—her grunts' Pokémon. The ones she had sent into the mountain.

The realization hit her like a freight train: the boy. He hadn't just planned to fight her. He'd planned to dismantle her entire operation, piece by piece, from the shadows.

The Zubat swarm turned on the newly released Pokémon, their chaotic movements driving the disoriented Pokémon into a frenzy. The battlefield erupted into chaos. Thunderbolts crackled through the air, Earthquake shook the ground, and Poison Gas filled the narrow space, creating a swirling maelstrom of destruction.

Arianna's chest tightened. This wasn't just a fight—it was a warzone.

Fifteen Minutes of Hell

Arianna fought like a demon, her commands sharp and precise as she directed her Pokémon through the chaos. Honchkrow dove and slashed with Aerial Ace, its talons cutting through anything that strayed too close. Vileplume's Petal Blizzard became a whirlwind of death, the razor-sharp petals slicing through Zubat and Golbat with brutal efficiency. Arbok struck with terrifying precision, its Fire Fang and Poison Tail keeping attackers at bay.

But the cost was heavy.

Arianna's body trembled as she forced herself to remain upright. Every breath felt like shards of glass scraping through her lungs. Her ribs ached with sharp, deep pain, hinting at fractures. The ruptured eardrum left her dizzy and nauseous, her balance faltering with every step. Blood streamed from a gash across her forehead, pooling into her eye and blurring her vision. Her uniform hung in tatters, exposing burns and abrasions along her arms and legs. Her boots squelched with each step, soaked in blood.

Her Pokémon fared no better.

Honchkrow perched low to the ground, its left wing mangled and feathers bloodied. The joint twisted at an unnatural angle, and the bird's chest rose and fell erratically as it struggled to stay conscious.

Vileplume's massive petals were shredded, their edges browned and curling as if scorched. Its vibrant colors had dulled to a lifeless hue, and the once-proud flower now drooped with exhaustion.

Arbok was the worst of them all. Its sleek, coiled body was a battered mess, large sections of its scales torn away to reveal raw, bleeding flesh. Its hood hung limp, the fearsome pattern burned and shredded. Its fangs were cracked, and its jaw trembled from overuse. One eye was swollen shut, crusted with blood, while deep claw marks marred its sides.

The battlefield was a graveyard of broken bodies. The narrow tunnel was littered with unconscious Zubat, Golbat, and grunt Pokémon. Blood smeared the stone floor, pooling around the faintly twitching forms of those who had collapsed. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and burnt ozone from the unleashed energy.

Arianna's ears rang as the sound of clapping echoed through the cavern. Her heart jumped into her throat, and for a fleeting moment, she thought it was some phantom mocking her—a hallucination brought on by pain and exhaustion. But no—it was him.

Austin stood in the Zubat cave. His clothes were shredded, his figure hunched slightly, but he looked impossibly steady. Arianna's blood ran cold as she realized why. Beneath the tattered layers of fabric, he'd worn multiple layers—padding himself against the storm of Zubat and Golbat he had unleashed. He'd planned for this. Every last second of it.

But it wasn't the boy that terrified her. It was his Pokémon.

Rattata stood by his side, its small body radiating an eerie crimson aura that pulsed with raw, concentrated energy. Arianna recognized the effect immediately—Guts. The little Pokémon had taken every ounce of pain it endured and turned it into pure power.

Next to it was Spearow, and Arianna's breath hitched. The small bird didn't just look determined—it looked unnatural. Its feathers gleamed unnaturally bright, like its body had been chemically or artificially enhanced somehow.

"Rattata," Austin said quietly, his voice cold, "Bide."

Rattata's body tensed, outlined in a vibrant crimson glow as it gathered every ounce of pain it had suffered. The air around it seemed to hum with energy, the intensity growing unbearable.

"Vileplume," Arianna rasped, "Petal Blizzard!"

Vileplume staggered forward, its petals trembling as it tried to summon the strength for the move. But it faltered. The exhaustion, the injuries—it was too much. The petals fluttered weakly before falling to the ground.

Desperate, Vileplume made its choice. With trembling legs, it threw itself between Arianna and the glowing Rattata, its battered body acting as a shield. The crimson beam of energy shot forth from Rattata like a cannon, slamming into Vileplume with devastating force.

"Vileplume!"

Before she could move, Pikachu appeared in front of her barely standing Pokémon, its iron tail glinting in the light. With one clean, brutal strike, it brought the tail down, and Vileplume's body went limp.

Arianna's heart cracked. She felt it—a physical pain in her chest that made it hard to breathe.

Spearow darted forward with unnatural speed. But it wasn't flying—it was running, its small claws scraping against the rocky walls as it gained momentum. Honchkrow moved to intercept, its body glowing as it prepared a Tri Attack. The three-colored beams shot forth, but before they could connect, a shimmering storm of stars from Vee's Swift collided with the attack, breaking it apart.

Spearow leapt into the air, its claws glowing faintly with Fury Attack. It slashed at Honchkrow with relentless precision, each strike driving the larger bird back. Honchkrow let out a pained cry, its wings faltering under the barrage.

Pikachu was already on Arbok. Its iron tail burned with energy as it met the serpent head-on. Arbok hissed, lunging with its charred, battered fangs, but Pikachu was faster. With a single, devastating strike, its tail slammed into Arbok's mouth, sending the snake crashing into the cave wall. The impact shook the tunnel, dislodging loose stones and sending a shower of dirt and debris raining down.

Arianna collapsed to her knees. She couldn't take it anymore—the chaos, the pain, the sheer brutality of it all. Her throat felt raw, her body trembling. She clasped her hands tightly, her bloodied fingers digging into her palms as tears welled in her eyes.

"Please," she choked out. Each word felt like it was clawing its way out of her throat, tearing at her pride and everything she had built. "Please, stop this. I give up. You win. Just—just don't hurt my Pokémon anymore."

Austin froze, his body still as the words echoed in the cavern. He stared at the woman before him, her crimson hair matted with blood and sweat, her once-imposing figure trembling with defeat. Her voice carried no arrogance, no malice—only desperation. She wasn't pleading for herself. She was pleading for them.

"Would you have shown me mercy if I was in your position?" His voice was ice.

Arianna stayed silent, her lips trembling as the words refused to come. She couldn't lie.

Instead, she lowered her head further, her forehead pressing against the cavern floor. "Hurt me. Attack me. Do whatever you want to me. Just... don't hurt them. Please."

Her hands outstretched, shaking as if offering herself up for punishment. Her voice cracked again, barely audible. "They've done enough. It's me you hate, not them. I'm the one you want, so take it out on me."

Austin's grip on his Pokéball tightened, his heart pounding in his chest.

He didn't enjoy this. Even if she was his enemy, even if she was a villain, the love she had for her Pokémon was undeniable.

"Tell your Pokémon to stop resisting!"

Arianna raised her head just enough to yell, "Honchkrow, Arbok—it's over! Stand down!"

Honchkrow and Arbok screeched, their battered bodies pinned and trembling, but they obeyed. Arianna's voice dropped to a whisper, thick with anguish. "We lost."

Austin nodded to his team. "Knock them out."

Vee stepped forward, releasing a pulse of electric energy that coursed through Honchkrow's body, leaving the massive bird unconscious. Rattata, her crimson aura still glowing faintly, leapt forward and sank her teeth into Arbok with a Bite, the serpent collapsing moments later.

Austin pulled out the walkie-talkie, his voice steady but tired. "Alright, you can drop the Ditto disguise. It's over."

The cavern fell silent, save for the sound of Arianna's ragged breathing. Austin stood still, his paper bag masking the storm of emotions in his eyes.

He felt no victory, no triumph. Only the heavy weight of what this battle had cost both of them.

"You know," Austin said, his voice calm, almost detached, "I regret that it had to go this far."

For a moment, Arianna froze, confusion flashing across her face. Regret? Did he pity her? Did this boy—this child—think of himself as some merciful hero, standing above her like a judge passing sentence?

"You regret it?" she hissed, venom dripping from every syllable. "Then why do all this?"

"An eye for an eye, right?" Austin replied. "Team Rocket didn't just mess with me—they crossed a line. You dragged me into this. You took people, experimented on Pokémon, hurt them. So I hurt you. That's how it works."

His tone was cold, factual, like he was explaining the weather. The world tilted under her feet. The sheer audacity of this boy—to speak so lightly, so casually, about what he had done to her, to her team—made her stomach churn with fury.

And then he said it.

"Maybe Giovanni will learn to not mess with me after this."

Her breath caught. The name hit her like a fist to the chest, reverberating in her skull. Giovanni.

No. No, no, no.

Her thoughts spiraled, her carefully constructed composure cracking under the weight of that single word. That name was sacred, a secret guarded fiercely. Among Team Rocket's highest ranks, only a handful dared to whisper it. Archer. Proton. Petrel. Sabrina. Her.

So how does this boy know?

Her mind raced, grasping at fragments of logic that refused to coalesce. Who is he? A spy? A defector? A weapon sent by someone to destroy us? To destroy Giovanni? Her eyes widened as another thought slithered into her mind, cold and venomous: If he knows Giovanni's name… does that mean he's going to kill me?

The realization paralyzed her. If he was revealing something so dangerous, so intimate, did that mean this was her end? Her breath quickened, her chest heaving as panic crept in.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice eerily calm. "It's over."

Her body stiffened. It's over? Did he mean her life? The mission? The struggle? Or did he mean Team Rocket?

The boy wasn't a boy anymore.

He was him.

For a fleeting moment, the paper bag obscuring his face seemed to flicker, replaced by the blank, emotionless mask that had haunted her nightmares for years. The Masked Man. She could see it as clearly as if he were standing there in the flesh: the Alpha Fearow's wings beating furiously against the storm, Silver's screams echoing into the void.

Her body trembled violently as the image burned into her mind. She blinked, and the paper bag was there again.

Austin turned to leave, Pikachu leaping from his shoulder to deliver a sharp Thundershock. The electricity surged through Arianna, her body convulsing before collapsing to the ground with a choked gasp. The pain was sharp, searing—but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache it left behind.

She lay there trembling, staring up at the rocky ceiling. Her right ear throbbed, her vision blurry from blood and sweat. Yet through the haze, she saw him walking away.

It wasn't relief she felt. It was humiliation. The same humiliation she had endured years ago, when the Masked Man left her broken and powerless. Both of them had looked at her and decided she wasn't worth the effort to finish.

Her body began to tremble, not with fear, but with rage.

You should have killed me, she thought bitterly.

Her mind twisted, warping the boy's image into something monstrous. He wasn't just a boy anymore. He wasn't just a trainer who had defeated her. He was a symbol—a second humiliation. A second failure. He represented everything she couldn't destroy, everything she couldn't protect, everything she couldn't save.

Giovanni doesn't care about me, she realized, the thought bitter and final. He hadn't cared when Silver was taken. He hadn't cared when she broke herself to please him. And he wouldn't care now.

Not after this.

The hollow space in her heart, once filled with love for Giovanni, was consumed by the fire now burning for the boy who stood above her.

If I ever draw breath again, you will regret this day. You'll regret sparing me. You'll regret everything.

She let her head fall forward, her bloodied hands pressing into the dirt. The edges of her vision blurred, darkness creeping in like a slow, inevitable tide. Her limbs were heavy, useless, as the last shreds of strength slipped away.

But even as the void claimed her, a single thought burned through the haze, searing itself into her consciousness.

No mercy shown will be no mercy given.


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