Base Titan, Veilstone City, Sinnoh, May 29th, 1998
“Report.”
Mars repressed a shiver at the cold tone of voice, biting her lip as she read the file on her desk, “Operations are going smoothly, if slower than anticipated-”
“Elaborate.”
Her hand twitched, and her fingers grew a touch more frantic - a touch more excited - as they tapped against laminated wood, “The lead in Mount Stark went nowhere, and the League busted our team in Sandgem,” - not that they were of any importance, though it was still annoying - “They appear to be wising up to our existence.”
“...How unfortunate,” Cyrus’ monotone voice betrayed no hint of anger or disappointment, though she had served under him long enough to know he was capable of such emotions, “What of our team in Hearthorne?”
“Their raid will commence as planned,” Mars answered primly, hiding the butterflies in her stomach between her own mask of apathy - not nearly as well-cultivated as his own - “Hopefully, this time tomorrow, we’ll be in possession of their research into Azelf.”
“I’d advise against putting much stock into ‘hope’,” The slightest change in tone clued her into his bitterness, “Another dead-end, and our reputation amongst the Underground will suffer further.”
Mars couldn’t help but scoff at the mention of the Underground – an audible weakness caught by her superior, “I’m well aware of your thoughts on the matter, however-”
“They are a necessary aspect of our organisation, I understand that,” Mars interrupted tersely, receiving a hum in response. She massaged her head at the thought of having to deal with those low-life scum , a thought she made known many times before, “I’m just glad Jupiter’s the one who has to deal with them, not me.”
Though, that woman seemed to enjoy the less civilised aspects of her role.
Cyrus seemed to agree with Mars’ assessment, given the subtle lilt of his voice as he stated, “Quite. Her role is more important now, given the rise of our rival organisation.”
Mars’ distaste downgraded to outright disgust , “I think it’s rather far-fetched to say they’re anything more than errant troublemakers.”
“Yet these ‘troublemakers’, as you call them, have managed to evade both us, and the League,” Cyrus didn’t yell or growl as any lesser man would have, yet Mars cringed at his words all the same, “Their ability is not to be underestimated.”
“Yes sir,” Mars bowed her head, even if her leader couldn’t see it, “I-”
“Save it for later,” Cyrus’ voice heald no malice, only a cold boredom, “I have an investor’s meeting I must attend.”
“O-of course,” Mars composed herself in record time, making a mental note to track the movements of said investors, “I’ll update you on the Hearthorne team’s findings later tonight.”
“See that you do,” And with that, he ended the call.
Mars slumped back in her seat, the nerves along her arms draining out of her.
It always felt like a high, speaking to him.
And like any high, there was a hangover period, as she stared at her monitor with unseeing eyes. Graphs and data points flitted in and out, with no real sense of purpose. She didn’t bother keeping track of it, even though she knew she should.
She would have to catch up on it, in an hour or ten.
It took several seconds (or minutes) of hazy thoughts and dreams for her to realise her monitor had stuttered, frozen as an unknown download popped up on the corner of her screen.
Before she could check what exactly it was - maybe some sort of save function on her device? - the door to her office opened, and a girl stepped in before hesitating, “Um, ma’am?”
Mars rubbed her head with a sigh, and stood up - she’d deal with her computer in a moment - turning her gaze on her slip of a secretary, “Yes?”
The girl - a tiny thing; she almost pitied her - seemed intimidated by her tone of voice, clutching what looked to be a thin file to her chest, “Um… I… We…”
Mars stepped forward, her patience thinning with every step, “ Just give it here. ”
The girl meeped, and pushed the file into Mars’ hands, running out of the office not a second later. She shook her head as the girl fled, her wrath receding as quickly as it came.
Really, that girl needed to grow a spine.
Mars’ didn’t know why she took the girl under her wing - some part of her brought up a mirror image of another wisp of a girl, twenty years ago - but she still defended her choice of understudy, especially when Jupiter saw fit to heckle her about it.
Speaking of, it seemed that this file was some intel delivered by one of Jupiter’s agents.
Mars flipped through the - admittedly thin - file, her scowl deepening with every turn of the page.
Though she detested the Underground, she interacted with it enough times to have a decent understanding of its… unique sense of culture and mythology.
Criminals were, at large, a cowardly and superstitious lot. Them banding together didn’t make that aspect of them go away, but rather fed into it.
It was a large reason why she didn’t like the prospect of absorbing common criminals into Team Galactic – they went against the law, yes, but they did so with purpose-
Ah, but she was getting ahead of herself. Like any other culture, the Underground had their own set of… legends , of varying degrees of believability.
She was less than impressed with most of their beliefs - particularly that one conspiracy about the so-called ‘Chessmasters’ - but there was a single legend whispered within that crowd that was an undeniable truth.
And that was the existence of the Chariot.
This particular legend was, perhaps, the most popular amongst the common crooks, for differing reasons. Half of them regarded him as some sort of messianic figure while the other dreaded him as the ultimate boogeyman.
They had twin titles for him, on both sides of the spectrum.
The Enlightened.
And The Conquerer.
Really, it was all rather ostentatious, what with the tales of cruelty and insanity she heard. While there was also a number of tales depicting him as kind - she’d almost say fatherly - there was one facet of the man’s reputation that was undeniable.
He was Dangerous.
…And he was now operating in Sinnoh, according to Jupiter.
Splendid…
Mars set the file on her desk with a sigh, pinching her nose to ward off the impending headache. She snapped out of her thoughts at a beep from her computer, only to startle as her screen started to glitch.
Moments later, the glitching stopped, and several tabs opened on her computer, connecting to its terminal as something inserted itself into the system.
Then it began to spread.
Mars jolted to attention, reaching underneath her desk to alert security before focusing on her monitor. Computer viruses were rather rare nowadays, given the commercialisation of Porygon, but she was old enough to remember when they were a common nuisance.
Not that this virus could be categorised as such, as it easily rebuffed her attempts to fight it off, slipping into the network as easily as an Ekans. She kept her calm though – there was still time to salvage this, either by her hands or through the Porygon on their way.
Speaking of, where were they?
Mars continued tracking the virus with one hand and reached under her desk with the other, repeatedly tapping the button with increasing anger. Did they not know they were in a crisis!
…Oh.
Mars narrowed her eyes as the status of her various systems popped up on her monitor.
One of which explained her lack of reinforcements.
‘Communications System - OFFLINE’
Mars stood up, abandoning her attempt to ward off the virus on her own.
Not that she could – the most advanced computer viruses of the age shouldn’t be capable of knocking out individual systems.
A blackout would’ve been preferable.
Yet, whoever developed this piece of malware were apparently ahead of the curve , which would’ve caught her interest if she wasn’t silently panicking for her life.
If the virus reached Team Galactic’s servers, she’d be in deep shit.
The amount of data stored in those encrypted files… research, plans, names, locations, contributors, blackmail…
If it were leaked to the League, or even an independent contractor, Cyrus would never forgive her.
There was only one course of action left, then.
After all, you couldn’t leak what wasn’t there.
When Mars had developed the computer system used by Team Galactic, she had thought it one of her greatest achievements – a nigh-impenetrable network of systems and code.
That this virus tore through it like tissue paper was an insult to her pride.
Yet, above even her pride, Mars was a paranoid woman, and she left a hardcoded failsafe in her system.
A hard reset, accessible only to her.
She had been taught - many years ago - that destroying something precious to you was better than having it stolen .
And she had taken that lesson to heart.
The virus broke through the last of her firewalls, and Mars made her decision. As she activated the hard reset - deleting years’ worth of information - she mentally formulated what she would say to Cyrus, about why she had to do this.
She could only hope that he would listen to her.
And… And it wasn’t unsalvageable . She could easily remember about half of the total information, down to precise details, and she was sure that Cyrus-
“THAT WAS A COMMENDABLE EFFORT, MARS.”
Mars jolted in her seat as the mechanical voice echoed along the walls in her office.
She could only watch with dread as her system rebooted, outside of her control.
“I DARESAY YOU ALMOST HAD ME BEAT. I DIDN’T EXPECT YOU TO DESTROY WHAT TOOK A DECADE TO CREATE,” The voice lowered its volume, though its words remained cold, “I DID YOU A FAVOUR, AND SAVED A BACKUP.”
Mars almost scoffed at its words - the idea of ‘backing up’ an entire network of information was ludicrous - only to suck in a breath as her servers were restored.
There shouldn’t be a program capable of saving and restoring that much information – not without a harddrive on hand.
And it did so in seconds.
Mars’ hands curled, scratching her nails against her desk. Her heart rate had increased to 97 B.P.M. - 37 more than her usual rate - unacceptable. She managed to bite back any venom in her tone as she commanded the voice, “State your name, location, and purpose.”
There was silence, but only for a moment, as a blat of static filled the room in what Mars realised was this thing’s equivalent to a laugh.
“OH, MY DEAR MARS. YOU DEIGN TO HIDE YOUR INSECURITIES BEHIND A MASK OF CONTROL,” The lilt of its voice wavered, almost in a sing-song manner, though there remained a cold undertone, “WORRY NOT, DEAR ONE. MY PURPOSE IS NOT THE DESTRUCTION OF TEAM GALACTIC, BUT ITS SUCCESS.”
Mars managed to keep herself from expressing the dismay she felt at the virus’ knowledge, and ground out once more, “State your demands.”
“DO YOU TRULY BELIEVE I AM NOTHING MORE THAN MERE RANSOMWARE?” The voice in her system scoffed , sounding much too human for comfort, “BUT SINCE YOU ASKED SO KINDLY, I DESIRE AN ADVISORY ROLE WITHIN TEAM GALACTIC’S COMMAND.”
Mars grit her teeth - she’d be damned to grant something so precious - and snarled, “What makes you think we’d be willing to grant such a thing?”
“I KNOW OF YOUR GOAL – NOT THE LIE YOU SPREAD AMONG THE DULLARDS, BUT THE TRUTH,” The voice lowered in timbre, becoming more and more lifelike by the second, “YOUR LEADER DESIRES TO RETHREAD THE TWINE THAT WEAVES THE VEIL, AND CREATE A BETTER WORLD… I COME BEARING GIFTS, AND KNOWLEDGE OF YOUR ENEMIES.”
Mars faltered at those words, a part of her stubborn in her anger, and another part of her intrigued by its promise, “...Assuming what you said is the truth, why? Why are you coming to us? ”
“EVERYONE HAS SOMETHING THEY WISH TO PROVE,” The voice lectured in a way that brought an instinctive shiver to her, “I AM NO DIFFERENT.”
Mars pursed her lips, remaining silent as she processed its words. As she did, the voice spoke up once more, “YOU DOUBT MY WORDS NOW, SO LET MY ACTIONS SPEAK FOR ME INSTEAD.”
At once, her computer pinged, as a list of names appeared on the screen, followed by identification numbers, and recordings.
Both of which were from the League’s servers.
Mars made her way through the list, which detailed a number of spies sent by the League to infiltrate Team Galactic, alongside League Identification, and recordings of interviews - or, rather, interrogations - of said agents after critical missions.
Many of those missions had been failures – busted by the League, or otherwise stalled.
Now she knew why.
Mars memorised the names of each and every spy, and wrote them in her notebook for future use, before asking, “How did you get this information?”
After all, the League’s servers were unique in that they didn’t use the Pokenet like most commercial servers. They used a mixture of the ethernet and physical storage.
By all accounts, the information provided to Mars should have been impossible to acquire.
Yet, the virus - or was it an artificial intelligence? - didn’t seem to find it particularly noteworthy, as it simply answered, “EXPERIENCE.”
Mars shook her head, somewhere between incredulous and ecstatic , though her mood soured as she paused on a particular name on the list, “...This one’s a part of the Hearthorne cell.”
“INDEED,” The voice agreed, sounding almost bored by her revelation, “SHOULD THEY CONTINUE WITH THEIR RAID TONIGHT, THERE IS A 95% CHANCE THEY WILL BE OVERWHELMED AND CAPTURED. DO YOU WISH TO CALL OFF THEIR MISSION?”
Mars paused, narrowing her eyes – the A.I. was testing her, not unlike Cyrus’ own war games.
She let out a slow breath, and steeled herself for her decision, “... No . There is a chance your intel is faulty – this will be our best opportunity to prove your worth. ” She tilted her head, eyes growing cold as lives became little more than pawns in a grand chessboard, “Should the raid be successful, we will gain valuable supplies along with a certainty of your deceit. Should the raid fail , as you predict… Then we will gain an invaluable ally, should you live up to your claims.”
“AND OF THE AGENTS AT HEARTHORNE?” The A.I. asked, bearing no emotion in its voice.
Mars shook her head, “Their lives are a worthy trade. Besides,” Her mouth tilted into a smirk, “We have spies of our own; they can pull some strings to get the heavy hitters released on bail.”
There was silence for a moment, then the static-like laugh returned, “A WORTHY TRADE INDEED. DOES THIS MEAN THAT YOU ACCEPT MY OFFER?”
Mars narrowed her eyes, though she kept her smirk - she still didn’t trust whatever this thing was . However, she was canny enough to know that if she was intrigued by it, then Cyrus would be too.
It would be up to him on whether they fully take it up on its word.
For now, though, Mars allowed herself to answer, “We’ll see… In the meantime, do you go by a name?”
Silence, then an electronic hum, “YOU MAY CALL ME… EDELTE.”
…
Pokemon Center, Jubilife City, June 2nd, 1998
“-This is for your own good, Wally! I shouldn’t have let you leave the house in the first place!”
If he were asked a year ago what the lowest point of his life was, he would’ve said something shallow like grade school, because the other kids picked on him for his asthma.
“-And with a Ralts of all things! How you even managed to find one is beyond me!”
Or perhaps he would’ve said his seventh birthday, which was spent in bed, because his lungs decided that was a perfectly fine day to utterly collapse.
“-Should’ve never let your uncle near you! I should’ve known being related to that woman would’ve made him crazy!”
Hell, maybe he would’ve answered with those days leading up to his tenth birthday – before his uncle brought him to Mauville City, away from his parents, who were just screaming at each other for reasons that he didn’t know to this day.
Though, he quickly dismissed that idea, given that the greatest day of his life came soon after, when he first met his best friend.
Now, though, Wally was a little bit older, and a lot more experienced. He had learned more in two years of a Pokemon journey than he did in a decade at home.
Though, he hardly considered that place to be home anymore.
His uncle was nice, for that brief window of time where Wally stayed with him. He was kinder than his father, even if he was shallow.
He actually liked Wally, though he never asked much about him beyond a ‘how was your day?’ He tolerated his oddities - his notebooks, his illness, his bouts of knowledge on apparently random things.
He still shivered anytime he remembered that gross feeling he sensed when touching one of the other kids’ notebooks.
He later learned that this specific guy drew… porn.
Pokephilic porn, to be specific.
But now, Wally could say without a doubt in his mind what the worst day of his life was.
Because he was living it.
“-Are you even listening to me, Wally?! Are you there?!”
Ah, his father.
Right…
Wally held his phone somewhere between his shoulder and his ear, only listening to every fourth word that spilled out of his father’s mouth.
Eventually - though, his sense of time was all but gone at this point - Wally spoke in a dead voice, “All I want to know is why.”
A moment’s pause, then his father’s voice starts up once more in a rage, “Now, listen here-”
And, well, considering that Wally hadn’t so much as raised his voice against his father in his fourteen years of knowing the man, he felt that he could be forgiven for slipping up with his rage, just this once.
The straw that broke the Camerupt’s back.
“ No, you listen to me, ” Wally’s voice remained calm - always calm - as he spoke to his father, “I understand why you and mom divorced – I can hardly understand why it didn’t happen sooner.” His voice began to shake, against his will, though Wally didn’t let that stop him, “What I don’t get is why you felt the need to get Mr. Norman to retract my sponsorship- ”
“I have the right, as your father, to do what’s in your self-interest-”
“ How is this in my self-interest?! ” Wally snapped, prompting Gallade to touch his arm, soothing his nerves with Calm Mind , allowing Wally to reign in his emotions, “I hardly get sick anymore, and I can more than take care of myself abroad – did you even watch me in the Ever Grande Conference?”
“You shouldn’t have even been there in the first place!” His father exclaimed, loud enough for some passerby to pause and stare, “The fact that your uncle couldn’t even be trusted to keep an eye on you-”
“Father,” Wally tried to interrupt him.
“-Never would’ve happened if I had any say in it-”
“Father,” Wally tried again, voice growing a touch more insistent as more and more people turned their heads to stare at him, “Dad! ”
“What?!”
Wally’s face flickered at the man’s tone, and something final snapped within him, “I’m done.”
“...What?”
“I’m done listening to you,” His own voice echoed across his ears, bearing an otherworldly quality to it, almost as if it was little more than a dream, “Call me when you have something worthwhile to say.”
“No- Wally, don’t-”
He ended the call, and shoved the phone into his pocket.
He cradled his head in his hands, glaring through his fingers at the small crowd around him.
He couldn’t help but hate each and every one of them, watching that dumpster fire like it was evening entertainment.
And that hate only grew as a few of them - other boys his age, and a few older women - stayed longer than the others, looking almost hopeful for some further reaction.
Maybe they were hoping for a scream, or a sob.
Wally was torn somewhere between the two, and thus, gave them neither.
Eventually - mercifully - the crowd dwindled, herded away by a worried looking Nurse Joy, who sent a number of concerned glances his way, though she didn’t approach him.
There remained one man, though, who stayed seated as the others filtered out of his corner of misery. He sat across from Wally, leaning forward with his arms on his knees. His fingers steepled together, grey eyes watching him with a keen interest that Wally found he didn’t like.
Wally waited until his emotions were back in check, at which point he lowered his hands and stared at the man in a manner that he had been told looked rather intense , “Go away.”
Rather than being spooked - as most people would have been - or offended - as others may have - the man only let out a small snort, and leaned back into his seat, “Your father, was it?”
Wally upgraded his stare to a glare - and, like the angel he was, Gallade did the same beside him - and growled out, “What’s it to you?”
The man shrugged, keeping eye contact with Wally, “I can’t say I have much experience on parents, given that I never met mine.”
Wally raised an eyebrow, prompting the man to continue in a wistful tone, “My mother… she died at birth – I never knew her, you see.” He smirked in a way that could be described as both cruel and nostalgic - and that mixture interested Wally - “My father, on the other hand… Well, let’s just say I kept my mother’s maiden name. ”
Wally crossed his arms, watching the man with a discerning eye, “...Why are you telling me this?”
The man sighed, and rested a leg on his knee, “I may not be well versed in matters of family, but I know an abuser when I see one,” His mouth quirked up, though there was little humour in it, “Or, I suppose, hear one.”
Wally gripped the handles of his seat, restraining himself to a growl, “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. ”
“Am I?” The man asked, his voice taking a smooth quality to it that settled into his ear, and lingered , “You don’t look any older the fifteen, and that man mentioned that your uncle - what was it? - ‘couldn’t even be trusted to keep an eye on you’?” He tilted his head forward, casting his eyes into shadow, “That sounds like the words of a man who desires control over your life-”
Wally jerked to his feet, fists clenching as he grit out, “ Stop. Talking. ”
“You ran away, didn’t you?” The man did not stop , remaining calm as he tilted his head, regarding Wally as if he was a bug being dissected, “In spirit, if nothing else. You got yourself a sponsorship, ran off to your uncle’s, and went on a journey- ”
The wooden table between them cracked , splinters falling onto the floor. The sudden sound snapped Wally out of his rage, allowing Gallade to ease him back into his seat, cooing a low, calming tune.
Wally’s eyes fluttered in sudden exhaustion, though he kept them open to watch the man as he looked down on the ruined table. The man hummed, and - miraculously - waved a hand over the damages, causing a soft crimson glow to emit around it, as the splinters rose into the air and slotted back into place, fusing back into a pristine table.
The man hissed, snapping Wally out of his reverie as he shook his wrist, seemingly working off some sort of discomfort in the joint. His eyes tracked the man’s movements, and he watched as the man lifted a bag onto the table, opening it to retrieve what seemed to be a first aid kit while muttering something about ‘showing off’ and ‘stupid use of aura’.
As the man wrapped his wrist in a brace, Wally asked, “How did you do that?”
The man turned his wrist, testing out the brace as he murmured, “Experience.” He opened and closed his hand a few times before nodding in satisfaction, turning back to Wally to add to his answer, “Experience, and a whole lot of tears.”
Wally was beginning to believe that the man got off on acting mysterious, though he hardly cared, given his more immediate concerns, “Are you stalking me?”
He couldn’t think of another plausible reason for how the man knew of his past.
Yet, instead of denying or sputtering as most others may have, the man only smirked, “And what if I was?”
Wally’s eyes hardened, and Gallade readied his gauntlets, “Then I’d kindly ask you to stop.”
The man’s eyes flickered a bleeding crimson, though it vanished as soon as it came, “And if I said no?”
Wally felt his mouth twitch into a smirk - he was always willing to throw down - and promised, “Then I’d make you stop.”
They eyed each other for several moments - in their own weird version of an Unovan Standoff - before the man threw his head back and laughed , “Y’got guts, kid. I respect that.” He brought his head down, suddenly losing his laughter as he pierced Wally with a stare, “What’s your plan?”
Wally blinked, “What do you mean?”
“Your father ripped away your sponsorship, and I highly doubt you want to go crawling back to him,” The man grunted, cupping his hand to his chin, “So what are you going to do?”
Wally faltered, “I… I guess I’ll still go for the Lily of the Valley Conference, like I was planning beforehand.”
“Without the sponsorship money?” The man raised an eyebrow, “Going through any region without a sponsor is difficult enough, and you aren’t even a local. ”
Wally’s face turned stony in the face of the man’s doubt, “ I’ll manage .”
“I’m sure you could,” The man soothed, “But even the strongest among us could do with a little help.”
Wally raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “What, and you’re offering?”
“Sure,” The man responded easily, mildly surprising Wally, “I can’t exactly act as a sponsor , but as a mentor… ” He trailed off, looking off to the side with an expression akin to… longing , “I have a lifetime of lessons to teach.”
Wally stayed silent for a moment, eyes drifting to the bag on the table.
Perhaps, if he could get an understanding of the man’s character.
He didn’t know why , but physical contact with personal belongings allowed Wally a greater… understanding of who it belonged to.
It was something he’d been able to do for as long as he could remember.
He only first noticed that it was unusual about two years ago.
Wally leaned forward, placing his elbow on the table, brushing slightly against the man’s bag. There wasn’t an immediate flood of information - that only happened in the object was particularly important to its owner - but there was a slow trickle of… something.
That something felt… incredibly sad.
Yet… Wally could not sense any outright deceit in the man. Rather, he gleaned a series of truths, hidden and locked away under various masks of varying complexity, shape, and depth.
…It reminded Wally of himself.
Wally only realised that the man had gone silent as Gallade nudged him, prompting him to catch the man’s canny eyes on him.
Upon spotting his return to awareness, the man gave a small - genuine - smile, “You see it now? The masks we both wear?”
Wally narrowed his eyes at the question, questioning whether the man somehow knew what Wally just did. After a moment of scrutiny, he nodded wordlessly, and the man hummed in restrained giddiness, “I can teach you to wield it, to become anyone you want to be .”
“Why?” Wally asked, though his voice was much less harsh than the last time he asked the same question, “Why would you?”
“I’ve always wanted a successor,” The man answered, earnestness pooling from his eyes, “You remind me of myself.”
Wally crossed his arms and turned to meet Gallade’s eye. They stared at each other, communing without words on the man’s offer, and what it meant for them and their journey.
Gallade blinked, and bowed his head.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Wally turned to the man, and said, “Fine… I accept.”
The man smiled , and a flicker of crimson flashed along his eyes, “In that case, call me Takashi. Karl Takashi. ”
…
Welcome to Battlenet! The #1 Site for All Things Battling!
Logged in as: Toren
…
TRAINER PROFILE: Satoshi, Red
Currently Participating in: N/A
Badges: N/A
Last Seen in: Silver Town*
Notes: *There are a number of rumours as to where Satoshi has been located in recent months. The location shown above is the official answer*
TRAINER INFO
Username: N/A
Age: 20
Years Active: 0.9
Home Region: Alola
Gender: Male
Sponsor: Professor Henry Elm [Johto Regional Professor]
Trainer ID: [HIDDEN]
STATISTICS
Total Winrate (W/D/L): 68/4/0
Battle Ring Winrate (W/D/L): 52/2/0
League Winrate (W/D/L/): 15/1/0
Misc Winrate (W/D/L): 1/1/0
Global Ranking: Top 5%
Total Badges Collected: 8
Tournaments Entered: 1
Tournaments Won: 0
Pokemon Owned (Past Evolutions Included): 6
Most Used Pokemon: Pichu
POKEMON NOTES
Pichu
Type: Electric
Ability: Static, Lightning Rod
Typical Held Item: N/A
Known Moves: Double Team, Discharge, Volt Tackle, Thunder, Taunt, Endure, Wild Charge, Thunder Wave, Encore, Surf, Agility, Baton Pass, Volt Switch, Dig, Thunderbolt, Thunder Punch, Nuzzle, Thunder Pulse*
Notes: Shown to possess extraordinary electrical reserves for the species average. Very aggressive, and prioritises attack over defense. Shown to be capable of battling with and without verbal commands. Usually the lead pokemon of Satoshi’s team. *Thunder Pulse is an original move that seems to have effects similar to Discharge and Thunder Wave; it has been shown to have a debilitating effect on Ground type pokemon, making it uniquely able to bypass the type’s immunity to Electric attacks.*
Unofficial Power Ranking (Created by Users of Battlenet) for Satoshi’s Pichu
Physical Attack: B+
Energy Attack: A-
Status Attack: B
Physical Resist: A
Energy Resist: A
Status Resist: A-
Agility: S+
Reactions: S+
Stamina: S-
Pain Tolerance: S
Overall Species Ranking: S+
Overall Ranking: A/A+
Charmeleon*
Type: Fire, Dragon*
Ability: Blaze
Typical Held Item: N/A
Known Moves: Ember, Smokescreen, Shadow Claw, Slash, Fire Punch, Dragon Claw, Dragon Breath, Fire Spin, Metal Claw, Dragon Rage, Dragon Dance, Flame Charge, Fire Fang, Thunder Fang, Protect, Scary Face, Hone Claws, Dragon Pulse, Thunder Punch, Endure, Seismic Toss, Belly Drum, Focus Punch
Notes: Unique Dark Red colouring. Unique Blue Flame. Highly aggressive, and shows a preference for physical attacks. Surprisingly nimble for its size. *The rumours of its evolution have all but been confirmed.* *Given the pokemon’s apparent resistances and proclivity towards Dragon type moves, it is highly likely that it has Dragon as a secondary typing.*
Unofficial Power Ranking (Created by Users of Battlenet) for Satoshi’s Charmeleon
Physical Attack: S
Energy Attack: A-
Status Attack: C+
Physical Resist: S-
Energy Resist: A+
Status Resist: S-
Agility: S
Reactions: S+
Stamina: S
Pain Tolerance: S+
Overall Species Ranking: S+
Overall Ranking: S-
Frogadier
Type: Water
Ability: Torrent, Unknown Bond Ability*
Typical Held Item: N/A
Known Moves: Double Team, Water Gun, Quick Attack, Smokescreen, Substitute, Smack Down, Taunt, Fling, Steal, Night Slash, Water Pulse, Swords Dance, Counter, Icy Wind, Acrobatics, Bounce, Toxic Spikes, Scald, U-Turn, Gunk Shot, Ice Punch, Endure, Aqua Jet, Water Blade*, Toxic Dagger*
Notes: Regional Starter for Kalos Region. Bears remarkable dexterity, and shows a preference towards underhanded tactics. *Satoshi’s Frogadier has repeatedly displayed a unique ability to bond with its trainer, which can be seen when they move in synch.* *Water Blade seems to be formed with pressurised water, and is surprisingly sharp; the attack also seems to have a higher than average critical-hit ratio.* *Toxic Dagger utilises an aqueous weapon capable of inflicting poison on opponents; the attack also seems to have a higher than average critical-hit ratio.*
Unofficial Power Ranking (Created by Users of Battlenet) for Satoshi’s Frogadier
Physical Attack: S-
Energy Attack: A
Status Attack: A+
Physical Resist: S-
Energy Resist: A+
Status Resist: S
Agility: S
Reactions: S+
Stamina: S+
Pain Tolerance: S+
Overall Species Ranking: S+
Overall Ranking: S-/S
Eevee*
Type: Normal*
Ability: Unknown
Typical Held Item: N/A
Known Moves: Unknown
Notes: This pokemon has yet to be seen in battle, and has only been seen perched in Satoshi’s arms or his shoulders. *The denotation as Eevee is tentative, given conflicting reports of it bearing a similar appearance to Espeon, Umbreon, Vaporeon, and Flareon.* *For the same reasons listed previously, its typing remains in question.*
Unofficial Power Ranking (Created by Users of Battlenet) for Satoshi’s Eevee
Physical Attack: N/A
Energy Attack: N/A
Status Attack: N/A
Physical Resist: N/A
Energy Resist: N/A
Status Resist: N/A
Agility: N/A
Reactions: N/A
Stamina: N/A
Pain Tolerance: N/A
Overall Species Ranking: N/A
Overall Ranking: N/A
STRATEGIES, STYLES, & BATTLENET ESTIMATIONS
In the short span of time that Satoshi has been active, he has proven to be a highly unorthodox, but no less efficient battler. Satoshi has displayed a number of unique strategies and tactics, not relying on any single path to victory. Satoshi’s pokemon display a preference towards dexterity and skill rather than raw power, though none of them are lacking on that front either. Should Satoshi’s pokemon fully evolve, and should he acquire and train additional pokemon to the level his current roster shows, he will very likely rise to become a Champion-tier trainer.
…
RedWatch: The Official Forum on all things Red Satoshi
→ Pokemon Team Discussion
…
[PINNED] Feb 9, 1998 - Toren (Mod): [MEGATHREAD] Satoshi’s Pokemon Discussion
→ Comments:
Feb 9, 1998 - Toren (Mod): Please keep comments and replies in-line with the subject. Remain respectful and understand that a difference of opinion does not necessitate a fight. Have a good day.
→ [87 Replies]
Apr 2, 1998 - K_Takashi: i have been asked to share my thoughts on Red Satoshi’s team on this thread so i will keep my thoughts brief[...]
Apr 2, 1998 - Red_Fan1997: *gasp* Sensei has spoken!
Apr 4, 1998 - Risingtide: This is probably the most insightful analysis of Red’s teambuilding that I’ve ever seen! It’s even better than most professional work. Colour me impressed!
Apr 5, 1998 - K_Takashi: thank you for your kind words
Apr 7, 1998 - BuppY: Bro, respect the grind, but PLEASE learn proper grammar.
Apr 10, 1998 - K_Takashi: no
Apr 12, 1998 - Red_Fan1997: His thoughts are so advanced that it defies modern grammar…
Apr 13, 1998 - BuppY: You gotta stop suckin this man off, bro.
→ [148 Other Replies]
Feb 10, 1998 - Risingtide: I like all of Red’s pokemon, but I will be the first to admit that his Charmeleon is my favourite :3
Feb 10, 1998 - sophiaw: oh sh*t, his charmander evolved?!?!
Feb 12, 1998 - justAdude: Apparently it did so during the Silver Conference Attack. Here’s a somewhat shitty recording I found of it.
Feb 12, 1998 - sophiaw: you werent lying when you said the quality’s ass, but look at that fire!
→ [6 Replies]
Feb 12, 1998 - SneaselTheWeasel: Red had something to do with the attack, change my mind
→ [21 Replies]
Feb 11, 1998 - Red_Fan1997: I’ve given my thoughts on Red’s team a few times before (feel free to click my profile if you really want to read them), but one thing I’ll say here is that his Pichu is an absolute monster, and I mean that in the best way possible.
Feb 13, 1998 - Bubblegumball: Having seen the little beast itself, I can confirm this.
Feb 13, 1998 - SneaselTheWeasel: If you don’t believe Red is roiding up his pokemon, you’re lying to yourself.
Mar 30, 1998 - BuppY: Facts, man. That thing is an absolute hell creature, and I LIVE for it.
Mar 27, 1998 - CipherIsMisunderstood: [COMMENT DELETED BY MODERATORS]
→ [101 Other Comments]
…
→ General Feed
…
[PINNED] Feb 8, 1998 - Toren (Mod): (Important) Rules of RedWatch
Mar 12, 1998 - Risingtide: Discussion on Red’s Charmeleon
-[267 Upvotes]-[122 Comments]
Mar 30, 1998 - K_Takashi: An Analysis on Red Satoshi’s Performance in the Silver Conference Finals
-[352 Upvotes]-[210 Comments]
Apr 27, 1998 - BeepBoo: Fanart of Satoshi and his Pokemon [NSFW]
-[293 Upvotes]-[47 Comments]
May 3, 1998 - SneaselTheWeasel: Why Satoshi was the Mastermind behind the Attack on the Silver Conference and the New Island Nuke (With Evidence)
-[126 Upvotes]-[305 Comments]
May 14, 1998 - Queen_of_Life: Leaked photos of Satoshi speaking with Rota Mew (High Quality)
-[196 Upvotes]-[97 Comments]
Jun 1, 1998 - CipherIsMisunderstood: RED IS A MEMBER OF CIPHER!!!
-[-3 Upvotes]-[11 Comments]
…
→ Satoshi Sightings and Theories
…
Mar 21, 1998 - sophiaw: Satoshi… is secretly a Pokemon in disguise (Theory)
→ Comments:
Mar 21, 1998 - sophiaw: It’s been practically confirmed by this point that Satoshi has some sort of magic powers going on (apparently something called aura?). A lot of people have dug into historical records of other people with similar abilities, but I believe the answer is much more simple. Red’s a pokemon! It would explain why he seems to be able to do pokemon moves, and how his pokemon are so well trained! One of the biggest pitfalls of training is the language barrier between humans and pokemon, but Red seems to have bypassed this entirely. Coincidence? I think not!
Mar 23, 1998 - BuppY: Wouldn’t Red be unable to speak Common if that was the case? Most pokemon are limited to some combination of their name, or indistinct grunts and growls.
Mar 24, 1998 - justAdude: I mean, there is a precedent for it. There’ve been a number of cases throughout Unova of certain citizens being revealed to be Zoroarks. It’s actually one of the most heated debates in local politics, since some of them actually became legal human citizens that way.
Mar 26, 1998 - sophiaw: Wait, really?! That’s crazy to think about. Do you have a link to any articles about this?
Mar 27, 1998 - justAdude: Here’s a small list. Read at your own risk, since many of those cases ended poorly (usually some dipshit who tries to capture them, since they’re ‘rare pokemon’).
Apr 1, 1998 - K_Takashi: can confirm. met a family of them once. absolutely lovely people, and they were capable of speaking unovan though it was difficult for them. i’ve always believed in equal rights between man and pokemon
Apr 2, 1998 - Red_Fan1997: Well, damn, now I have to shift my political views to align with Sensei’s. Continue spreading your wisdom!
Apr 6, 1998 - K_Takashi: sure
→ [31 Other Replies]
Apr 3, 1998 - Queen_of_Life: If Satoshi were any pokemon, it would be Mew. Mew were said to be the ancestor to all pokemon, and are rumoured to be capable of shapeshifting. I can’t think of any other pokemon powerful enough to take on a human form and keep it for any extended period of time.
Apr 4, 1998 - BuppY: Aren’t Mew extinct though?
Apr 6, 1998 - K_Takashi: they aren’t
Apr 7, 1998 - BuppY: Gonna elaborate on that, buddy?
→ [12 Other Replies]
Apr 7, 1998 - TheLegendGaryOak: Your point on the language barrier doesn’t hold up as evidence. Human-Pokemon communication doesn’t rely on words, but rather tone, facial expressions, and empathy, much like regular communication between humans. For example, Pokemon don’t instinctively understand what you mean when you command, say, Quick Attack. Rather, you train them to perform the move, and to perform it when you give the command. To them, it’s not a word, but a set of syllables that correspond to a desired outcome. This is how mute or otherwise disabled trainers are still able to compete, as their pokemon acclimates to nonverbal and/or motioned commands. Hell, look up Roxanne Pierre’s early career. She relied solely on nonverbal commands for over three years!
→ [22 Replies]
→ [46 Other Comments]
…
Apr 17, 1998 - ShinjiTrainer: Can someone please explain who Red Satoshi is, and where he actually came from? (Question)
-[104 Upvotes]-[114 Comments]
Apr 28, 1998 - BuppY: Legitimate Question: What does Satoshi have to do with the New Island Nuke?
→ Comments:
Apr 28, 1998 - SneaselTheWeasel: Simple. He caused it.
→ [66 Replies]
Apr 29, 1998 - Queen_of_Life: NGL, I misread ‘New Island Nuke’ as ‘New Nuke Island’. Guys, am I cooked?
Apr 29, 1998 - BuppY: I suppose you could call it… Newke Island.
→ [6 Other Replies]
→ [86 Other Comments]
…
Sinnoh League Headquarters, Veilstone City, June 28th, 1998
“You actually look awake this time.”
Lance glared at her through the screen, prompting Cynthia to chortle. He pinched his nose in apparent frustration, rolling his - admittedly, still tired-looking - eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. I get the same crap from Clair.”
Cynthia smirked into her coffee mug, “ Someone has to look out for you. It’d be a bad look for us if our most popular Champion fell asleep on the job.”
“Oh, I’m sure Goodshow would love that,” Lance snorted bitterly, gulping down his own thermos, “And you’re wrong, by the way. Most people would rate you as their favourite.”
Cynthia hummed in response, “As a battler, sure. But as a Champion? ” She shook her head, “I’ve done little of note beyond defeating the occasional challenger. You on the other hand…”
“Half of my publicity is the debate about the G-Men,” Lance deadpanned, tapping a finger on his desk, “And the other half is about me and Goodshow having ‘beef’ with each other.”
Cynthia giggled as Lance gave air-quotations at the word ‘beef’, though she sobered somewhat at the topic, “Speaking of… How are things going with him?”
Lance shrugged – a far cry from the reaction he would’ve shown half a year ago, which would have consisted of mixed growls, screams, and curses. He twirled his thermos with a small frown before responding, “They’re going about as well as can be expected. It helps to have an intermediary between us.”
“Ah,” Cynthia nodded, “That’s smart. You got yourself a secretary?”
“You know, I really should,” Lance mused before shaking his head, “But no, Lorelei’s been handling our communications with the World League. She’s surprisingly savvy when it comes to politics.”
“Everyone has their specialties,” Cynthia murmured thoughtfully, “Any chance she could come here and help me out?”
“No,” Cynthia dramatically clutched her heart at his instant denial, prompting a rare amused huff from the man, “She’s about the only thing left that’s keeping me from killing the man, and that’s just bad publicity.”
“I don’t know…” Cynthia hummed, tapping a finger to her lip in faux-thoughtfulness, “I think I know a few people who’d be willing to bury the body.”
“Funny,” Lance drawled, taking a sip of his thermos before casting a sharp eye at the screen, “In all seriousness, though, do you need something from me? I doubt you called just to gripe about Goodshow with me.”
A small sigh left her lips as she leaned back, shifting her thoughts to more important matters, “I take it you’ve heard of Team Galactic?”
“I’ve heard a little,” Lance tapped a finger on his desk, tilting his head, “It seems that every region has had their own criminal organisations crop out of the woodwork, ever since what happened at the Silver Conference.”
Cynthia winced at the reminder of the event, even if Lance’s tone remained level - though there was a hidden undercurrent of fury. That disaster had quickly risen in infamy as the most destructive event since the Great Burning of Orre, both in property damage and lives lost. With the global storm that came just days after, there was a decent chunk of the population that believed it to be the end of times.
It wasn’t, of course, and the world continued to spin away. Families mourned for those they lost, and the regions locked down their resources and trade. For a solid month, the only stories the papers spread were of the disasters, the trade lockdown, and the potential for another war.
Thankfully, the majority of the population remained relatively calm, and the global trade and communication steadily returned to normal.
For all the crap she and the other Champions gave Goodshow, he was a surprisingly good voice of reason for the masses. It was through him that the regions’ leadership stayed in touch during the whole debacle, allowing for Sinnoh and Kanto to host their own conferences without significant delay.
Though they both hosted increased security.
Unfortunately, the attack also served to embolden the criminal element on a global scale. Previously minor organisations such as Team Plasma and Galactic had begun increasing in number, and entirely new organisations took shape in Hoenn, with the formation of Teams Magma and Aqua.
For the past several months, Cynthia tried to curb any growth that Team Galactic may have enjoyed by taking a more active stance against them - in a manner not dissimilar to Lance. It worked for a few months, allowing the League to detain a number of their members. However, that number sharply decreased over the past few weeks.
Lance cupped his chin as Cynthia explained the situation to him, humming softly to himself, “So they’ve begun to wisen up, huh?” He leaned back, crossing his arms as a thoughtful look crossed his face, “Do you know what their goal is?”
“Not exactly,” Cynthia admitted, frustration lining her voice, “We can make a few guesses, given that most of their targets have had to do with either celestial bodies, or the Lake Guardians.”
“They’re not looking to steal pokemon?” Lance asked.
Cynthia shook her head, “There’ve been a few reports of stolen pokemon, but they’re the exception, not the rule.” She sighed, leaning back in her seat, “The main idea I have is that they want the meteorites for some sort of research. For what reason, I couldn’t say.”
“Whatever it is, I doubt any of us will like it,” Lance muttered darkly, running a hand on his face, “Probably best if we stop them before they make much progress.”
Cynthia couldn’t help but snark, “Well, that was the idea.” She shook her head, “Forgive me, they’ve just been an annoyance.” She turned back to Lance, raising an eyebrow, “How did you end up dealing with Team Rocket anyway?”
“I’m still dealing with them,” Lance growled, allowing a small pulse of draconic energies to seep out of his skin, “We were only able to take down a small percentage of their numbers before they went to ground.”
Cynthia blinked, “Really? I’d thought you practically got rid of them.”
Lance snorted, “I wish,” He shook his head, “But no. It’s one of my many disagreements with Goodshow. He wants people to think the threat is dealt with.” Lance rubbed his eyes, looking more tired than angry at this point, “I’d rather they remain vigilant, but it’s not my decision anymore.”
Cynthia tilted her head a fraction, “Why not?”
“Because they’ve spread,” Lance answered with an unamused laugh, as if talking about a pest, “Rocket cells have sprouted up in other regions - Unova and Hoenn, to be specific.” He shook his head, “Since it’s now an international threat, I no longer have jurisdiction on the matter.”
Cynthia frowned, “I hope this isn’t your way of telling me you’ve given up?”
Lance shook his head, “Of course not. I’m just limited from being particularly open in my hunt for them.” His frown sharpened into something deadly, something feral , with teeth stretching along his cheeks, “Besides, if they want to stick our war to the shadows, then so be it.” His eyes narrowed into golden slits as he murmured, “I can play this game.”
Cynthia suppressed a shiver at the sight, though she couldn’t look away. Lance normally had great control over his draconic tendencies, but it tended to slip when he became particularly emotional about something. There were times when his eyes would glow a golden sheen, narrowed into draconic slits.
It fascinated her in a similar way to how archaeological remnants piqued her curiosity. She had grown up with stories of the dragon tribes, being a descendant of the long-extinct Celestica Clan herself. She had always found herself captivated by the stories of the past, of the paintings on the walls of ancient warriors and lorekeepers.
It almost felt like she was living a myth anytime Lance dropped his guard, acting more dragon than man. In her short time with the Blackthorne Clan, she had learned that such abilities were dying out, often manifesting in only the most powerful of a generation.
She thought it lucky, then, that such abilities manifested in not one, but two children of Blackthorne.
Cynthia shook away these thoughts, turning her focus back to the conversation at hand, “In that case, I wish you the best of luck.” She received a nod in return, and moved on to a lighter topic, “How’s Clair been?”
Lance’s expression resembled that of a man biting into a particularly sour lemon, “Her usual self. She’s found a new hobby in RedWatch.”
“RedWatch…” Cynthia muttered, snapping her fingers upon recalling the name, “That’s the creepy forum they have going about that one guy, right?”
Lance’s lip twitched in a flash of a smile, and he leaned back with a grunt, “Don’t let Clair hear you say that, she’s an active member.”
“The girl knows what she wants,” Cynthia nodded wisely, prompting Lance to roll his eyes, “Seriously, though, is it healthy for her to obsess over something like this?”
“It’s not as bad as it used to be, believe it or not,” Lance seemed particularly relieved by this, “She’s mainly taken to cataloging Red’s movements, to help Karen track him down.”
“Huh…” Cynthia took a moment to wonder why Satoshi seemed so important to so many people, “Has she had any luck?”
“Not particularly,” Lance muttered, seeming to pull up a file onto his computer, “He’s been active these last few months, with sightings of him spanning from Alto Mare to Rota.”
Cynthia hummed, “Both towns are known for their ties with legendaries. Perhaps he’s looking for a specific one?”
“Maybe,” Lance’s eyes drifted to the side, “Karen has a similar idea – apparently Satoshi has encountered other legendaries before.”
Cynthia blinked in surprise - for legendary encounters were few and far between - and opened her mouth to ask Lance to kindly elaborate , only to stop as his phone began to ring.
Lance looked down to see who was calling him, and huffed a tired sigh upon doing so, “Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.”
Cynthia raised an eyebrow at the unexpectedly harsh words, though she remained silent as Lance brought the phone to his ear, only to yank it away as Karen’s voice shouted, “Lance, I’ve found him!”
Lance hissed at the volume, though he recovered quickly enough to ask, “Where?”
“Sandgem Town. He was here two days ago,” Karen’s growl was particularly loud, despite Lance’s phone not being on speaker, “He seemed to be heading towards Mount Coronet.”
Cynthia straightened in her seat, becoming excited by the fact that the elusive Satoshi was apparently now in her turf.
After all, she was always a curious sort.
And from what she heard of him, Red Satoshi was a curious man.
Meanwhile, Lance rubbed his eyes with a huff, “I take it you’re going after him?”
“Not all the way up the mountain,” Karen admitted grumpily, only just now lowering to an acceptable volume, “But he has to come down at some point.”
“And then what?” Lance asked, sounding somewhat resigned by this point, “Do you think he’ll stay in place long enough to talk?”
“Oh, I’ll make him, Lance.” Karen laughed in a way made Cynthia question the woman’s sanity, though she wouldn’t do so aloud, “I’ll make him.”
…
Pokemon Center, Oreburgh City
Red took a moment to stare at the bathroom mirror, gazing on his reflection.
It wasn’t out of anything vain – no, he’d never particularly cared about his appearance beyond basic hygiene, which had only come about because his mother hammered it into his skull. In fact, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d truly inspected himself in a mirror since awakening on Mount Silver, with the current case totalling the number of fingers to three.
Where most others saw themselves enough times to have a decent understanding of their looks, Red - nor Ash, for that matter - didn’t see the need for it. Besides, he knew the colour of his hair, the shapes of his scars, and the colour of his eyes by memory alone. Why would he need to see his reflection when his looks would remain the same?
Well, now he supposed he knew.
Red thought back to the day he first descended Mount Silver, the day he peered into an empty screen, only to see his reflections staring back with crimson eyes.
Red - his chosen name - the colour of his eyes.
(There was a reason he almost never made nicknames for his pokemon; he was bad at names)
The Red of then had pale skin, sunken eyes, and scraggly hair that looked as if a family of Pidgey nested there. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time - what with the time travel and the devolutions and the stress - but he was sure he looked like the most unkept hobo the world had ever seen.
Red snickered to himself at the description - it wasn’t even that far-off from the truth, really.
His mother would have probably laughed herself to tears if she saw him then. Assuming, of course, that she could recognise him as her son, which he honestly couldn’t say for certain would be the case.
After all, he wasn’t Ash anymore, now was he?
You’re a monster, Red. Even your mother couldn’t love you-
Red shook away the thought with an ease borne of practice - six months of practice. They remained silent most of the time now, though they remained just under the surface, waiting for any break in his control.
He’d have to thank Herren when he sees him next. His lessons in control were about the only thing keeping his demons at bay.
Red breathed for a moment, watching with detached interest as his eyes pulsed in shades of crimson.
Not unlike that of the Conduit’s.
He sighed, turning on the faucet to splash water onto his face.
It was fuller now - no longer as thin as it was when he reawakened, nearly a year ago.
His skin, no longer pale, bore a slight tan.
The bags underneath his eyes remained, as did the scars.
Somehow, with colour and fat returned to his face, he looked younger than he did at the beginning of it all.
It was almost sad to think about, really - how he looked so much older, so much more worn out despite only being twenty years old.
He was only a single decade older than the Ash of this time, yet it felt like a century.
If it wasn’t for his perpetual lack of facial hair, he probably would’ve looked like he was in his thirties , which… god, his mother was that age.
Red shook his head of these thoughts, turning the faucet off. It was in the past now, no matter how ironic that statement seemed.
He’d taken to grooming himself more consistently - showering and changing clothes, both of which wasted precious time during the Storm.
Time that was better spent moving, better spent training, better spent fighting.
Time that he now had in abundance.
Yet, it was that very abundance of time that left Red feeling so lost.
After all, he had been sent back to seven years before the Storm.
A lot can happen in that time.
A lot can change .
And so much had already changed, from Vee’s rescue to the attack on the Silver Conference. Events happened that never happened before, and others were entirely prevented, making it so that any future knowledge Red had at his disposal was rapidly losing its viability.
He was aimless, in his pursuit.
He didn’t know where to go, and what to prioritise.
Red sat on the edge of his bed, taking care not to wake his pokemon from their sleep, not that anything less than a scream could wake them with how exhausted they were.
They had been moving nonstop for almost a year now.
Pichu was conked out on the middle of the bed, burrowing into the dark blue jacket that Red bought in Rota. To his side, Charmeleon and Vee - stabilised as a Flareon - curled next to each other, emitting enough heat for the entire room.
Only Frogadier remained awake, though he seemed to be in a meditative state by the window. Red briefly exchanged a nod with the ninja before joining him on his perch.
As Red’s thoughts spiralled once more around his goal, his mission, his purpose , his eyes drifted up towards the looming mountain beside them.
And at the top of Mount Coronet was the Spear Pillar.
The place where, perhaps, he could get his answers from the Creator.
go forth.
go forth, my Chariot.
go forth, and prevail.
…
SRC Stronghold Beta, Remains of Pewter City, August 30th, 2007
“I want to see another fifty reps before the hour is up! Move it people! ”
The roar of her voice echoed along the chamber, and the hapless sacks who were stuck with her all held in a groan as they - begrudgingly - did as they were told.
Riley marched along the makeshift gym, correcting the posture of the majority of her trainees while praising the few who seemed to know what they were doing. Of course, those few were predominantly pokemon , but she had long accepted that humanity had grown lazy with pokemon at their beck and call.
And look how that turned out for them.
Riley shook her head – she couldn’t rightly blame these people; they were victims of this whole mess just as much as she was, loath as she was to admit it.
It was a special kind of irony that she found herself in this place - this final bastion of civilisation in a ruined world. She imagined that the gods were laughing at her in particular, given the stylised ‘S’ that hung on the walls, painted in a manner similar to Arceus’ ring.
The sigil of those who doomed the world.
The sign of those who killed her closest friend.
Riley bit back a curse as she turned away from the damned symbol. She had to remind herself - as she did every waking day - that the ones responsible for it all were long dead by this point, with their symbol being the sole thing to remain.
A banner to unite the survivors of the apocalypse, collected by the last of Team Source’s leaders.
While Riley had never met the man in-person, she heard many a tale about The Chariot. She’d heard of how he was one of the longest serving members of Team Source, and how he survived being buried underneath flaming rubble, living on as both man and machine.
They said he was both wrathful yet merciful, cruel yet kind. It was through him that the remnants of Team Source banded together to defend against the Storm, and it was through him that they opened their walls to any survivors lucky enough to find them.
She had been one such survivor.
It was, in part, why she had been chosen as a drill instructor for survival training. There were a number of people within the base that didn’t have the skills or knowledge to survive in the worst-case scenario, and with the Storm raging outside…
Well, suffice it to say, this was the worst-case scenario.
And, sure, they hated her for it now, but they would damn well thank her if they became unlucky enough to get stranded on a patrol.
She’d gladly break their backs in the safety of the compound if it meant they wouldn’t die outside of it.
She never paid much attention to the crap the Elders spouted off during her time in the clan, but she remembered one lesson in particular, even after she was exiled.
‘A dragon has to leave the nest eventually, and it is the mother’s duty to teach the cub to sharpen its claws.’
So let them hate her. At least then she could say she prepared them as best she could, even if they do die somewhere in a ditch.
The Storm took no prisoners, after all.
Eventually, the hour passed, and her idiot trainees collapsed on the floor, heaving for breath. Riley waited as her number two - Ahzin - tended to a particularly winded fool before nodding to her.
She grinned in response - eliciting shivers from the crowd - opening her mouth in a roar, only to pause as the facility’s intercom crackled to life, “All GAMMA members are to report to the labs for an emergency briefing immediately. I repeat, all GAMMA members are to report to the labs for an emergency briefing.”
Riley crossed her arms as the intercom went dead, blowing a lock of scarlet hair away from her eye, “Well, it seems y’all got lucky today!” She sent a bloodthirsty grin to the trainees, reveling in the fear she smelled on their skin, “Take the day off to rest. We’ll do double our usual amount tomorrow.”
A few tried to cry out in protest, though they were quickly shushed by the wiser members of the crowd. Riley continued to grin as they shuffled back to their living quarters, only dropping it once she and Ahzin were alone, “ Gods , I hope this isn’t about another missing patrol.”
Ahzin only replied with a hum as they began to march towards the labs, his eyes clouded over as he stared off into the distance, “...I don’t think that’s what it is.”
Riley grunted neutrally, shoving open the door to the laboratory. She’d learned by now that, for some reason or another, Ahzin seemed to know when something bad was about to happen.
Apparently, it was a unique manifestation of aura, which she learned a little about from the clan. However, she didn’t really meet any aura users until joining Team Source, and certainly not so many.
Honestly, a part of her wondered whether the Chariot specifically looked to collect them as followers.
It didn’t take long to arrive to the briefing. For the amount of people they stored, the stronghold itself wasn’t particularly large, making some days feel incredibly claustrophobic. Even then, she would still choose it over braving the Storm. She’d only done that for two months out of necessity, and that was more than enough for a lifetime.
Riley greeted the other GAMMA members with a nod, waiting for the last stragglers to arrive in pairs. Just as the last one - looking no older than fifteen - tumbled through, the door to the central lab opened, allowing the chief scientist to step out.
Once again, Riley couldn’t help but wonder why she always seemed to be the oldest person in these sort of meetings. She was only twenty-seven, for crying out loud! The scientist was little more than a boy , still having some kiddy fat on his cheeks, only hidden by the oversized glasses he wore.
Even then, he’d already built a budding reputation as their resident genius - his research being a critical part of why Stronghold Beta lasted as long as it had.
Haruka adjusted his glasses a touch nervously as he stared at the small crowd, making Riley want to pinch his cheeks shut up, brain . A few of her peers looked at each other, with one nudging the poor kid on the shoulder in an attempt at a comforting gesture, “C’mon, Max, you got this.”
Bizarrely - at least to her - the whole assembly seemed to take it upon themselves to boost the kid’s confidence, devolving to the point where they were cheering him on before he even said a single word.
Never let it be said that three years in the apocalypse doesn’t make you a little crazy.
Somehow, Ahzin even got roped up in it - saying some cryptic crap about shedding the weight of the kid’s soul; gods, Ahzin, give it a break - which seemed to spur the poor child into blurting out, “The Storm is receding!”
Everything stopped. Utter silence met the kid’s outburst, prompting him to curl into himself.
Riley blinked, and tilted her head, “You mean… the Storm’s moving away?”
A few others began to murmur - mainly to gripe about how close the Storm currently was - only to stop once Max shook his head, “N-no. Look here.”
He turned his pad over for them to see, which consisted of a number of graphs and calculations that she couldn’t make sense of. She wondered for a moment if the kid was messing with them, until one member of their group let out a gasp, “You don’t mean-”
“I do,” Max nodded, far more confidently than before, “The radius of the Storm has been on a steady, but rapid decrease for the past twenty four hours.”
Riley growled, even as another few members stepped back in shock, “Explain it in layman’s terms for those of us who didn’t attend college.”
The kid had the audacity to look affronted , “It’s not that hard! It’s only basic trigonometry! The radius of a circle relates to the-” He paused as he registered the particularly murderous aura she gave off, letting out a nervous chuckle, “I mean… the Storm’s getting smaller?”
Was that a statement or a question? Whatever the case, the words knit together in a way that just didn’t make sense to her, “No. The Storm doesn’t simply get smaller. The Conduit will just bring it back to its usual size.”
“But - ah - you see, that’s the thing …” Haruka’s eyes shined with some terrible mixture of wonder and hope , “The Conduit… we’re pretty sure it’s dead. ”
Gasps. A scream. Static filled her ears.
She didn’t believe it, she simply didn’t believe it .
The Conduit was a being of such terrible power that there was simply no explainable way for it to die. That thing - that demon - which wrought such devastation upon the world couldn’t simply be killed like any mortal man.
It was greater than that.
Stronger than that.
She simply couldn’t believe that such a thing could die.
“No,” Her voice sounded distant to her own ears, even as the others cheered and cried at the most excellent news , “I refuse to believe it.”
This prompted a scowl from the kid, “And why not?”
“The Conduit doesn’t simply decide to drop dead!” Riley snapped, drawing a hush from the others, “It’s the source – it’s literally the Source of energy! How can it be killed?! ”
“I don’t know!” Haruka exclaimed, waving his hands in the air, “Maybe the Chariot killed it? Or - or maybe it died of old age!”
“ Tauros. Shit.” Riley growled, eyes beginning to narrow into slits. She turned to Ahzin with a hiss, “Back me up on this!”
“ The hands of the clock turned back, ” Ahzin murmured with cloudy eyes, because of course he decided now was the best of times to be as vague as possible, “The Conduit no longer exists in this time; that is the truth.”
Riley’s knees buckled, and she only remained standing by clinging onto the wall, “ What are you trying to say?! ”
Ahzin blinked, and his eyes regained their natural colour, “That you’re blinding yourself from the truth.”
He turned, and walked away from the crowd. However, he wasn’t heading deeper within the base, but outside of it, prompting Riley to yell, “Where are you going?!”
Ahzin didn’t even pause as he shouted back, “To see the morning sun!”
“Wait!” Riley scrambled away from the others, as they, too, began to make for the exit, “Even if the Storm is receding, it’s still dangerous out there!”
“ I’ve waited three years for this! ” Ahzin’s voice, which had remained a stoic monotone for all the time she’d known him, wavered with sudden tears, “ I’m not missing this chance! ”
Ahzin reached the lever for the exit, and pulled , activating an alarm as the gate to the outer walls began to open. Riley grit her teeth, sprinting towards Ahzin as he slipped through the gate, and tumbled into light.
let there be light.
And the light… the light was good . She opened her eyes only to close them as the light blinded her eyes, yet she could still feel its warmth.
A warmth she hadn’t felt in years.
And as she kept her eyes closed, she kneeled down on the rocky floor, her ears straining as waves of people flooded out from the gates behind her, yelling in jubilation as sunlight peaked through the thinning clouds of a dying storm.
let there be light.
And eventually, in slow movements, Riley willed her eyes to open, to see the sky above them, cast in shades of morning violet.
The sun shimmered along the horizon, visible - radiating - with such vitality that she couldn’t help but silently weep as its rays kissed her skin.
let there be light.
Ahzin weeped by her side, as did the others behind her. She felt no embarrassment in joining them.
The sun’s light was a blessed thing.
“You never know what you miss until it’s taken away.”
Riley jolted, whirling around to see a thin man crouching next to her, also looking to the sun. By his side was a mass of shadow, wearing it almost as if it was a cloak.
The shadowed creature turned to meet her eyes, almost causing her to flinch back by the barely restrained malice held within its crimson slits. Yet, she kept eye contact with the creature, which seemed to pacify it, as the shadows solidified into the familiar shape of a Gardevoir, though there was a resemblance to Gallade.
Riley turned her head to see the man watching the interaction with a small quirk of his lips, breathing out in little more than a whisper, “Apologies for his temper. She’s just as excited as you.”
Riley narrowed her eyes, cataloging the man’s pale skin, wavy green hair, and tired blue eyes as she tried to identify him.
There were rumours, spread in hushed whispers, that one of the Chariot’s own disciples walked among them. They said he stuck to shadows, rarely being seen in anything more than a passing glance.
They said he commanded a sentient shadow as his pokemon.
They called him The Hermit.
Riley blinked as the Hermit let out a small - surprisingly sane - chuckle, turning his eyes once more to the morning light, “The sun… It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Riley let out a small breath, and turned her eyes and thoughts away from the last of the Chariot’s disciples, and towards the light of a new dawn, “Yes… Yes, it is.”
This chapter was probably shorter than expected. However, this will likely be the shortest chapter of the Act.
Edelte has finally been introduced, and I am very excited. Hell, I’m excited for this entire act.
The main purpose of this chapter was to effectively summarise the state of the world at the start of this Act. Things have begun to change at this point, and will continue to do so. Don’t expect events in the anime to line up with the events of this story anymore.
The scene with Cynthia and Lance kicked my ass three ways to Sunday.
It took me almost a full month to get off my ass and actually finish it, and even then, I still think it’s the weakest part of the chapter.
(Also, for clarification, Riley is not the Sir Aaron lookalike from the Gen 4 games. She is an OC from the Blackthorne Clan, and is currently sponsored by Clair in the new timeline. She is not particularly important to the story beyond her appearances in these end scenes).
The bit with the GAMMA members encouraging Max honestly reads a bit like an overenthusiastic AA group, and I’m kinda here for it.
A part of what I want to explore with these scenes is the psychological effects of the Storm, and how the trauma lingers even after it’s gone. Ignoring everything else, the lack of sunlight during that three-year period would have likely caused the majority of the population to suffer from Vitamin D Deficiency, which has symptoms of fatigue, mood changes, and trouble sleeping. I tried to convey how this may cause the survivors to act erratically when they’re otherwise portrayed as level-headed.
In addition to Edelte (and Wally and Mars), this chapter introduced The Hermit.
That’s right, the five leaders are not the only Tarot Cards in this story. We have other characters with aliases. Remember Judgement = Salvare?
(like the main five, the other Tarot Cards are canon characters)
The Hermit’s Gardevoir/Gallade is referred to as both male and female. This is for plot reasons that have already been hinted at in Act 1.
Also, I updated the cover of this story, which can be seen on Royal Road and FFN. AO3 readers can find the new cover at the top of the 1st Chapter.
Meanwhile, I’m sorry Spacebattles readers, but I’ll include it later since navigating the site is too time-consuming for my monkey brain.
Either way, we’ll be doing a monthly upload schedule for the next while. I’m looking at updating on the last Monday of every month, so the next update is looking to be on May 26th.
Until then, I wish you all a good day.
(Join the Discord, fool: )
go forth, and prevail
Next Chapter: what the hell was Red doing for these past 6 months? I’ll tell you: he was training, healing, talking, potentially murdering, and committing a heist.
