Pokemon Revolution: Advent Phoenix (Rated T)

[EonMaster One]

Um........okay, thanks.

Hey, everyone - just wanted to let you know what was up. I finished my paper (the first of many) and all that great stuff and I've made some progress on the new chapter. I still have some work to do, and the network at my school has not been cooperating. This is a rough patch for me as a writer, so just hold on for a little bit and I promise you guys I'll get you a chapter.

- EM1

[Air Dragon]

Seriously dude, take a chill pill. I can sympathize cause i'm in the same boat as you. The rest of your fans can sympathize with you because they know you never let any of them down. You do what you gotta do and God be with you.

Cause He's there for us all.

Peace, man.

L@er.

[EonMaster One]

*gets up from the table and stretches*

Whew!

First of all, let me just thank you guys for your patience with me over the last few weeks. You guys rock. Seriously. This was probably the hardest chapter that I've ever written just in terms of motivation. There were seriously a couple of nights when I thought of closing up shop as a fic writer because life, writers' block, and network problems just kept getting in the way of this chapter. But I think that now that I've gotten through it, I'll be able to push on toward the end and really get to some serious scribing come next month, when I leave school for the summer and (obviously) have a lot more time on my hands.

I guess it could be argued that, in terms of content versatility, this might be one of my better chapters. But I'll let you guys be the judge of that.

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Chapter 32: The Gambit, Successful

July 7, PA 2013 – Petalburg Woods, Hoenn

“Kuh…” a red-haired soldier dressed in black with silver armor looked down at the one unprotected portion of his torso as it began to bleed, the victim of a well-aimed but desperate sword strike. He looked up into the eyes of the man who had just slashed him. The green orbs looked almost regretful…and the green orbs were the last thing that this soldier saw before he slumped to the ground…for all intents and purposes, dead.

Sheridan Hadley and Kelvin Woodson watched as their would-be attacker fell prostrate before them, taking in a few heaving, ragged, short breaths before finally exhaling…

…and expiring.

“Damn,” Sheridan whispered ruefully, setting his stance at ease. So this was what it felt like…to take a life in war. He had been reasonably sure that he wouldn’t like the feeling, but as he turned the dead soldier over onto his back and gazed at his face as the pale, pasty, chalky look of death began to overtake it, watching it made his stomach turned. “He was young…maybe only our age.”

“I’m sorry…” Kelvin sighed. Sheridan stood.

“It couldn’t be helped. It was either him or you,” Sheridan said, staring blankly ahead. “I wonder if he had a family – maybe even a big family, like me…”

Sheridan broke into a run. Kelvin, taken by surprise, had to sprint as well to catch up.

“Where are you going?” he asked the young Captain, whose eyes were dead set and laser-focused ahead of him.

“The longer we take to end this war, the more we’ll all lose to it!” Sheridan snarled breathlessly. “I’ve had my first taste of death…and I don’t like it one bit.”

Kelvin Woodson gasped, trying his best to keep up with his Captain and friend. Before long, they had encountered a rather heavily forested area. At this, Sheridan began to slow down, creeping cautiously (although at a decent clip) through the woods. Woodson followed him, staring at a flickering light in the distance – a light which represented a more literal picture of the ‘flames of war.’ The diversion had been successful. The few men in the unit that were carrying bows had a special task – to set those arrows alight and to unleash them upon the unguarded camp once it had been cleared out by Sheridan’s diversion. This rather simple plan had been proposed by Creon, much to his master’s delight.

But Sheridan knew...one of his commanding officers wanted nothing less than the head of the opposing unit’s General; from the rumors he had heard, that had been the very reason that he had been promoted. Obviously, Prince Elrik thought it much too risky to send in a man that had a well-documented grudge against General Ludwig. Perhaps, Sheridan thought, he thought it too risky to send in a commander as important to the cause as the ones in his close circle…

One of Sheridan’s green eyes glinted as he caught a flash of light to his left…

Far from the sword connecting directly, the shock of being assailed without warning was almost enough to make Sheridan’s heart stop all on its own. With a sudden rush of adrenaline came unnatural quickness, and it was with this unnatural quickness that Sheridan managed to block an incoming sword from the left and slightly behind him. He stomped on the soldier’s calf area with one of his boots and heard something snap as his would-be attacker cried out in immense pain.

Meanwhile, Woodson was having problems of his own. He had been standing slightly behind his Captain when an Imperial soldier came flying out of the bushes to his right. He swiftly and promptly cut the man down and blocked a second attacker that had obviously hoped to deal the blow whilst his comrade had Woodson occupied…

Sheridan ducked another sword as he suddenly found himself double-teamed. Thinking quickly, he made himself small and rolled under a pincer attack from both sides, causing the two comrades to clash blades. Meanwhile, he went for the sword of the soldier whose leg he had just broken and rolled to his feet with it in one hand and his own blade in the other. The two Imperial privates he was fighting took exception to Sheridan’s little bit of trickery, and both charged in tandem, swords raised high and swinging wildly. Carrying two swords of his own, Sheridan nevertheless was required to dance and weave a bit to avoid being quartered by his twin assailants…

Woodson clashed blades with his second opponent. Each held his sword high above his head, growling into his enemy’s face. The Imperial soldier lowered himself slightly, trying to get leverage…

WHAM.

Woodson took the opportunity to bring a knee up into the unarmored portion of his opponent’s unguarded torso, striking the man right in the diaphragm and making him double over in pain, dropping his weapon to the ground. Woodson turned and walked away as the man took one final look at him and slumped to the rough ground below, passing out from a lack of air.

“WHOA!!” Sheridan dodged right as a charging Imperial sword nearly took a chunk out of his face. He responded by attacking the other with a sword motion that looked rather like an aggressive block, knocking the man’s sword arm away. Laying a slash with each blade into the man’s chest armor, he felled him.

Woodson saw one remaining soldier, charging at the back of Sheridan, who hadn’t yet found the time to turn around. Swearing through his teeth, Woodson broke into a run, his sword raised…realized he would not make it there in time and reared his sword arm back…

Sheridan turned around…

And found himself face-to-shocked-face with an Imperial soldier. Blood was starting to pour forth from the man’s open mouth, and as Sheridan looked into the infantryman’s eyes, he knew that the soldier was already dead; all that was left for him to do was to hit the ground, which he did soon after…

…With a short sword protruding from his unprotected back.

Sheridan looked at Woodson and sighed.

“I know – I don’t like it, either,” Woodson commented. “But you told me to watch your back, and that’s exactly what I was doing.”

“Thanks,” Sheridan answered sincerely. “At least we didn’t have to kill all of them…the other two should survive, hopefully…”

“Yeah…” Woodson mused. “Let’s go.”



“Ah…that was great…” General Ludwig sighed in relief as he emerged from the forest to the main part of camp. “Now, it’s time to grab my sword and exterminate some sorry rebel – what the…”

Ludwig shouted a word that rhymed with “duck” – very loudly, in fact – as he opened his eyes and saw that several tents in his encampment were covered in flames. Coming down the hill, he surveyed the sea of fire with the most shocked of facial expressions. “What…what the hell happened?! This is a (same word) disaster!”

He began to walk down the middle of the smoldering camp. His nose was inundated with the smell of smoke, and sweat tricked down his face, so hot were the flames around him. He heard a whizzing sound…

He let out a loud, strangled groan as an arrow pierced his armor and hit him square in the ribs. Looking up through the darkness and flame into the shadows, he witnessed two young men – both armored and both armed – enter his encampment.

“General Ludwig,” one of them – a youth with strawberry-blond hair that could have passed for a mere child – said authoritatively. Ludwig caught a glimpse of the gleaming shield on the boy’s right wrist.

“A bit short on quality soldiers, your people,” Ludwig said, drawing his sword. “After all, this is the second time they’ve sent a mere boy to do a man’s job. In any case, I’m going to kill both of you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Sheridan Hadley stepped in front of Woodson. “It is we that will take you… ‘General.’”

“Really?” Ludwig questioned incredulously. “You and what army?”

Sheridan remained silent, but did raise his eyebrow in a rather noticeable manner, as did Woodson, whose face showed an unmistakable smirk. Ludwig snarled, his eyes darting to the left. Over a flaming tent he saw the undulating outline of a soldier pointing a bow at him.

“Your troops have been scattered,” Sheridan told him. “Give up now if you want to keep your life.”

“I have a better option,” Ludwig spat.

Sheridan’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ll take yours!!” the veteran General snarled, sword waving in the air and prepared to strike as he broke into a full run straight at the young resistance Captain.

“Captain!” Woodson shouted, but Sheridan quickly cut him off.

“No! I can handle this.”

General Ludwig approached quickly. Sheridan steeled himself.

Sheridan grunted under the shock of Ludwig’s initial strike as he blocked it. The Imperial General swung powerfully – that was for sure. Ludwig swung again, and Sheridan managed to block, albeit while buckling a little against the force of the strike. Sheridan blocked a third strike and rose immediately afterward, swinging his right hand around at Ludwig.

Ludwig, who hadn’t seen the punch coming, was hit in the face immediately by the targe on Captain Hadley’s right hand. He groaned and staggered backward, his head having been turned by the force of Sheridan’s blow. Ludwig looked back up to see Sheridan coming at him with a gleaming sword.

As Ludwig blocked and their blades bounced off each other, a ringing sound was audible throughout the entire camp. Sheridan tried to cut Ludwig from below, but Ludwig blocked the strike. The force of Sheridan’s slash, however, was enough to knock Ludwig’s sword arms into the air, giving Sheridan the opening that he needed.

Ludwig saw Sheridan’s attack coming. He leapt backward just as the steel blade of Sheridan’s broad sword rent the space which Ludwig’s belly had occupied a second prior. This created a momentary lull in the action; A rosy, fat tongue emerged the maw of General Ludwig and licked up the trickle of blood that had been dripping from his lips ever since young Sheridan had clouted him with the shield moments earlier.

“Southpaw, eh?” Ludwig commented. “Sneaking a punch in there with your right hand when I wasn’t paying attention to it…pretty creative.”

“There’s more where that came from…” Sheridan answered.

“Let’s see, then,” Ludwig replied menacingly, lowering himself into a battle stance again. This time, Sheridan came on the offensive. Ludwig barely blocked the initial blows as the young man opposing him moved himself and his sword with the fluidity of a placid creek, and yet the ferocity of a raging waterfall. Sheridan had just begun to see this situation in a different light. If Prince Elrik won back his throne, he would no doubt usher in an age of peace, and Sheridan would likely lay down his sword someday. As little as he cared about being remembered, he realized the facts – if he was successful, he would indeed be remembered. A hundred years from now, when he…and Woodson…and even the Prince…were all long gone, those some three or four unborn generations from this day would read his name in history books as the one who struck one of the first blows in bringing a reign of tyranny to its knees. Would his father be proud if he saw this?

Ludwig let out a hiss as a gleaming sword narrowly missed bisecting his rather prominent nose. He leapt away, giving him a chance to catch his breath. Very luckily for him, Sheridan had also been in need of a blow at the same time and therefore did not charge again, at least for the time being.

“Damn it…” Ludwig muttered very softly to himself. “Fights just like Viktor…”

“What was that?!” Sheridan yelled.

“None of your business,” Ludwig snarled.

“You just said ‘Viktor’,” Sheridan replied impatiently. “Did you know my father?”

“So you are his kid…” Ludwig said loudly. “Still a pain in my *** after all this time…”

“Where is my father?” Sheridan yelled. “You know where he is, don’t you?”

“Even if I did…” Ludwig grunted. “I wouldn’t tell you a damn thing. But I wouldn’t worry too much…”

Ludwig lowered his sword.

“Your father betrayed his country, as did you,” Ludwig laughed. “The two of you will meet on the other side soon enough.”

Sheridan ducked away from Ludwig’s incoming sword. The latter looked at the young captain with eyes that bore no kind of reason whatsoever.

“And after that…we’ll retake Rustboro. Then we’ll party and have a damn good time,” Ludwig announced, his eyes glinting. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your family’s invited as well.”

Sheridan’s teeth might have been eroding, as hard as he was gnashing them together in rage. Ludwig released a short but very sharp laugh, and this sent Sheridan over the edge. He charged at Ludwig, swinging his sword wildly and not looking at all like the calm Captain that had been at the helm of this small force thus far. Ludwig returned with blows of his own, all of which Sheridan blocked without much effort. Sheridan tried to run the enemy General through with his blade but missed as Ludwig stepped to the side with a chuckle.

“CAPTAIN!” Woodson yelled in worry.

Sheridan whirled around quickly, driving his fist (and the targe attached to his forearm) into the face of the middle-aged Imperial officer for the second time. Flecks of blood burst forth from Ludwig’s face once again. Quick as lightning, Sheridan whirled around with his sword. On pure instinct, Ludwig rolled away. Sheridan attempted to leap upon him but missed and turned around immediately, putting his back to Woodson, who had been looking on this whole time.

“Woodson! Sword!” Sheridan whispered all of a sudden. Woodson barely heard him and began to fumble around his waist whilst Ludwig charged, his own weapon prepared to strike his younger nemesis. As Ludwig drew closer, Woodson managed to extricate his weapon from its sheath and tossed it calmly toward Sheridan, whose free hand gripped it for only a half second – a half second that seemed like an eternity – before launching it the other way, right at Ludwig’s face.

Ludwig skidded to a stop as a flash of flaming light missed his blond-curtained head by inches. He turned around and let out a yell…

With a precise, controlled slash, Captain Sheridan Hadley ended the duel. Ludwig stumbled and fell backward as the two halves of his now-destroyed chest plate fell away from him. As he hit his back, his sword sprang forth from his hands and slid along the ground, gleaming with the reflection of nearby, dying flames. Ludwig’s dirty-blond curtain of hair was disheveled as he sat up, put his hand to his chest in shock and removed it. A coughing gasp escaped the veteran soldier’s lips as he saw on his hand a stain of scarlet, matted against the pinkish-white of his palm.

“You…” Ludwig growled.

“You’ve lost,” Sheridan said. Ludwig’s hands clawed at the ground as he let out an enraged snarl.

“Good shot!” Woodson yelled excitedly, which only served to make Ludwig madder.

“Defeated…by a mere boy…” he hissed. “I won’t be shamed like this…”

He rose from the ground very quickly and appeared to throw something as he lunged at Sheridan…

Sheridan screamed as the grit of dust mingled with ashes covered his face, enough of it entering his eyes to cause much discomfort. He fell to his knees trying to shake it out. Ludwig’s eyes searched the ground for his sword. He took one look back up at Woodson, who was approaching with his own sidearm out, knew that he would not find his blade in time to kill the young Captain, and decided to cut his losses…

Woodson reached Sheridan just as Ludwig had taken off running in the opposite direction, completely unarmed.

“Captain!” Woodson yelled. “Sheridan, you alright??”

Sheridan, still on his knees, shook his head very quickly and gradually opened his green eyes. His normally strawberry-blonde hair and healthy face had been rendered grayish by the dust and ashes that had covered it, giving him a look something like a strapping but fatigued…zombie. Helped by Woodson, Sheridan got to his feet.

“Where’d he go?” Sheridan asked.

“Took off,” Woodson answered.

Sheridan swore, letting out a sigh of disappointment. He looked around at the damage that the attack had wrought. Burning remains of cloth tents smoldered and smoked, peppering a sea of fine ashes. Many of the flames had died off, leaving nothing else than smoke. The little grass that had been in this clearing had been completely burned away, and Sheridan could see one or two nearby trees that had (literally) fallen victim to the flames that accompanied this battle.

…And in the center of the camp, one lone flag with a green, serpentine dragon bearing a silver crown against a black background, frayed and broken…

Defeated.

“Where is everyone else? Don’t tell me we’re the only ones left…” Sheridan muttered.

“Well, you’re the Captain,” Woodson commented. “Call them.”

Sheridan inhaled, got a whiff of dust, coughed twice, shook his head in discomfort, and looked up at the sky, which was tar black peppered with little specks of astral white here and there. And the moon…the great moon shone high above them, struck through with stratus clouds of a dark gray as a rare chill wind blew them inexorably toward the east…toward Petalburg and points beyond. Sheridan yanked something from his belt – a small, silver tube of sorts – and blew.

A loud, shrill tone rent the night air. Woodson’s hand hovered near his ear as he squinted in discomfort at the frequency, which might have been high enough to scare a small Growlithe or Houndour back in Rustboro out of its slumber.

Sheridan ceased to blow after about ten seconds (which seemed more like ten minutes to Woodson, who was nearby). After this, the Captain and his underling and friend looked at each other. Woodson, removing his hand from his ear and placing it on his temple, was the first to speak:

“Great Almighties, that’s awful,” he grunted.

Sheridan looked over his shoulder and smiled as he saw a young man with black hair clad in silver armor over a green outfit emerge from the trees.

“But effective,” Sheridan commented.

One by one, they began to come out – some jogging slightly, some limping, some walking, some trudging in three-man tandems with two bodies sandwiching and supporting that of an injured teammate, an injured brother. Some were keeping close tabs on black-clad soldiers in their company…captured enemies whose fledgling careers in causing mayhem and destruction had been brought to an end in the most merciful way possible, considering the circumstances…some with dirt on their faces, others, blood. Some came to him black eyes, burn marks, cuts, scrapes…many looking like they had seen a five-second glimpse of hell itself…

…but most came to him with smiles on their faces. A dozen…two dozen…somewhere close to four dozen.

“I’ll be damned,” Woodson gasped. “We won. We actually won!”

“The Almighties were with us this evening,” Sheridan commented.

“Most of us,” one soldier commented. Sheridan’s eyes found that soldier rather quickly – it was the first one that he had seen, a young swordsman with short, black hair. With a shamed look on his face, the soldier informed Captain Hadley, “Four of us…won’t be returning.”

Sheridan’s heart sank and he sighed heavily. In the ensuing silence, he asked loudly, “Does anyone know their names? Anyone?”

Silence for another second – suddenly Sheridan lost his temper.

“These men died like heroes, and I will see to it that they are remembered!!” he shouted, a fierce look seizing his bright, green eyes. “I’m asking – no, I’m ordering you – give me their names!”

“Roren Maynard,” a nearby soldier said with a bit of a strained voice. Sheridan turned slightly to his left. One of the soldiers who had to be propped up by two comrades had spoken. Judging by the awkward angle of his limp foot, his injury had to be some sort of ankle fracture. “He was with our group when we were ambushed. When I got hurt…he stayed behind to cover our escape.”

Sheridan nodded mournfully.

“Iamri Olavica,” another soldier said. Sheridan didn’t bother to look to find him – Woodson did. “He emigrated here as a boy years ago from Carona, far to the northwest.”

“John Peter Rodell,” a third soldier said. “He died fighting along the shore of the lake. He killed two and disarmed two more before he fell to an archer’s arrow.”

“Gerard Schneider,” a fourth soldier carrying a bow said. Sheridan’s heart sank again – he recognized that name moreso than the other three. “He fired the first arrow to attack this camp…but he was also the first to be seen.”

“…Can we recover any of them?” Sheridan finally asked.

“All but one,” the very first soldier said. “Rodell fell into the lake…but I do know where his sword is.”

“…Retrieve it,” replied Hadley. To the remaining soldiers, he said, “Well done – all of you. You have fought bravely and you have been rewarded…with victory.”

“Victory!!” the inexperienced but nonetheless eager Woodson raised his fist into the air. This was followed by cheers and tired but jubilant shouts that rang through the nighttime air. Sheridan Hadley looked on in silence, the loss of the few still fresh in his mind. He understood – this was a war. People would be lost on both sides. That was why he had to win…and continue winning.

[EonMaster One]

~~~ *** ~~~

July 8, PA 2013 – Near the Sand of Khalid, North of Mauville City

The sun rose red and raging over the foothills of central Hoenn, slowly but surely banishing Night along with its shrinking shadows. Even at this early hour, the temperature was already at or above a balmy seventy degrees, signaling that the morning would be a prelude to a very warm summer afternoon.

With a slight grunt of effort, Travis stuffed what appeared to be a large cloth into his one-strap backpack. Inhaling and taking in the mild morning air, Travis let it out all at once with a pleased sigh. Katrina, who had been slipping her feet into her white flip-flops, popped back into sight again, beaming broadly, her pink hair shimmering in the morning sun.

“We head into Mauville today,” Travis said simply. With a sigh, he added, “This is gonna be interesting.”

“All we need to do is stay away from anybody in armor, right?” Travis and Katrina looked up to see Shiro and Madeline approaching them. “All…five hundred of them…”

Katrina looked up at the sky.

“It’s a dark red,” she commented. “I think I read somewhere that a red sky in the morning was a bad omen…something about the shedding of blood.”

“Geez, you mind creeping me out a little bit more?” Madeline asked with a nervous laugh. “Never knew you were that superstitious.”

Katrina laughed. “I’m not superstitious, I’m just – ACK! Hey!!”

She squealed shrilly and broke out into giggles, for Travis had just playfully clawed a particularly ticklish area of her waist when she wasn’t paying attention. Meanwhile, Shiro’s aureate irises had rolled toward the sky in an expression of obvious annoyance. This gesture was all the more completed when Shiro proceeded to grunt a four-letter word under his breath, turning around and making his way back in the other direction. Madeline, of course, began to follow him, shouting worried.

“Hey! What’s going on??” she asked.

“…Forgot my – Luke’s – whatever. I forgot the stick,” Shiro groaned.

“Oh…whoops,” Madeline grimaced. “We’d better find it before a wild Machop gets a hold of it. Can you give us five minutes?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Travis replied. Madeline ran after Shiro, who was already making his way back toward the small hill upon which they had camped. That left Katrina and Travis by themselves for a second time.

“Can you remind me why we camped separately again?” Katrina asked.

“We’re a lot easier to find out here in the open,” Travis answered. “Chances are, the Imperials already know you’re with me, but they’re not counting on us traveling in a group of four. We’ll probably be able to set up one camp once we get across water toward Fortree, but with the security…”

Katrina had a look of concern on her face.

“You’re really worried, aren’t you?” Katrina asked seriously.

“Not for us, no,” Travis sighed. “But the Prince…I left him so he wouldn’t depend on me so much. I wonder how he’s doing?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Katrina said. “He loves Hoenn and wants to see his father’s kingdom survive. But there’s another reason, too…”

“What?” Travis asked.

“He reminds me a lot of you,” Katrina said. “I mean…how you were when we were little. You were really mild-mannered and gentle – maybe too much. You were likable, but you never stood up for yourself. But when someone you cared about got hurt…”

“You mean…Ivanna?” Travis asked curiously.

“Ivanna wasn’t originally Commander, you know,” Katrina said. “She got the title from her father, Izaak. She really looked up to him. Everybody did – he was a good guy…maybe except for the fact that he was a little overprotective and that’s why Ivanna and Elrik never got together until now, but…”

“What exactly happened?” Travis asked. “I know from some of the soldiers that her father was caught and executed.”

“Not until after they tortured him,” Katrina replied with a blank look on her face. “They cut his head off…and sent it to Elrik and his supporters in a box.”

An expression of mingled shock and disgust seized Travis’ eyes. “That’s…”

“…really jacked,” Shiro’s voice interjected the conversation for the second time as he and Madeline returned, the former carrying the three-piece rod in his hand. “Damn it, this Edgar dude’s even more of a douche bag than I heard he was.”

“Uh…question,” Katrina asked.

“Shoot,” Shiro replied flippantly.

“What is that?” Katrina said, gesturing toward the weapon in Shiro’s hand.

“This? Oh, it’s called a san….something. The word pretty much means ‘three-piece rod’,” Shiro replied. “It’s kind of rare ‘cause it takes a lot of skill to wield one. Hell, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time.”

“Why don’t you keep the normal staff you had, then?” Katrina questioned.

“Oh, I’m testing this,” Shiro said. Travis and Katrina raised their eyebrows in confusion. “Okay, let me start from the beginning. The Blackthorn Clan was and still is a warrior clan.”

“Figured as much,” Travis replied.

“So, every son or daughter born into the family by blood learns some sort of martial art at a pretty young age. That’s probably the one family tradition my mom actually kept,” Shiro added with a wry smile. “Anyway, Luke has been at Blackthorn City for about exactly a year now, and it was time for him to choose a weapon to train with. You guys know Luke – he takes pride in being the oddball. So he chose this weapon…after being asked three times.”

“Okay…so why do you have it?” Travis asked.

“Basically, they didn’t have any of these left in the city because nobody used them,” Shiro commented. “So, when Luke told him that he wanted one, they had to make one for him. Just as they finished the first one was when Madeline and I swung through, asking for a lift over here to Hoenn.”

“So, that’s how you guys got here…” Katrina remarked.

“They want me to test it and see if it’ll hold up on a long journey. Meanwhile, Luke’s training with my – well, Mom’s – rod, because you have to master a rod with one piece before you do a rod with two or three pieces,” Shiro explained.

“Makes sense,” Travis commented.

“Okay…enough of that…” Shiro said. “Here’s hoping we don’t have to use it anytime today.”

“Right…” Travis uttered rather distractedly. “Do we have everything now?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Shiro replied.

“Okay…let’s go,” Travis said with a smile.

They set out toward the south, Travis leading the way with a hopeful smile on his face, hand-in-hand with his dear sweetheart.

Trailing behind them and walking at Shiro’s shoulder, Madeline couldn’t help but marvel. Even though she had known him for well over two years now…talking to him was something like meeting someone new. He no longer wore the careworn visage or the constant expression of distrust that she had known him for when they were first introduced. Something better had sprung up in its place, like a seed at last sprouting into the great oak that it was always destined to be. When she had first met him, there had been so much disparity between his experiences and theirs. He had wisdom, knowledge, and experience that did not commonly accompany boys his age. In fact, for the sake of health and sanity, they very well should never do so. He simply wanted to be a boy, but expectations seemed to follow him wherever he went. As for her, nobody expected anything of her. She was a girl raised poor in the slums of Cherrygrove with a junkie mom and an absent dad. She wanted to grow into a woman and be special - part of something bigger than just the circumstances that she had been so unjustly dealt. She was the card player, her life was the wager, and it seemed, as it is in all gambling situations, that the great House of the world had rigged the deck for her failure.

This same time two years ago – when both she and Katrina were twelve going on thirteen – the latter was the second girl that Madeline had ever looked up to. The first had been her own sister, Yoshina. With a mother who was an effective wreck, a missing (and later deceased) sister, and no friends to lean on, Katrina seemed like the perfect model for what a twelve-year-old girl was supposed to be. She had always heard talk about growing old gracefully. It wasn’t something she’d needed just yet, at the mere age of twelve. Where she was, she wanted to learn how to grow up gracefully, and to her, Katrina seemed to be the best example available to her…ironic, as Madeline would later find out that she herself was indeed older by about four months. Katrina, as Madeline saw her (and as most people saw her, in fact), was strong-willed but decidedly feminine, beautiful, well-shaped, in tune with her emotions and not afraid to show them, while seemingly not as prone to random mood swings as other girls her age. Madeline, by comparison, was short, scrawny, and awkward. Neither her childish face nor her flat form showed Katrina’s maturity. Her temper was horrible, and, for any offender of the male variety, her outlet was nearly invariably a swift kick to said offender’s defining organs. The list of boys and young men she had felled was quite large, almost embarrassingly so. She could not suffer humor at her expense, for she had been so accustomed to such humor being malicious. Her one protective instinct had been toward her brother, whom she eventually found didn’t need her anymore. She had been a walking, breathing, living (but not really) identity crisis.
Shiro watched him, too. Every time he looked at him, or said something to him, he couldn’t help feel guilty. Truth be told, the reason he had left New Bark Town in the first place was because he felt powerless – powerless to help heal his wounds, powerless to undo any of the damage that he had suffered. If Shiro had only known then how much his support really mattered to Travis…

Katrina, in his estimation, was the one that had changed the least out of everyone. Ever kind, patient, caring, with a strong will and a bit of a stubborn streak – that was Katrina in a nutshell then and now. She loved Travis with all of her heart – that was obvious. Why else would she pour her entire being into ensuring his full recovery? Why else would she stay with him when no one else would?

Travis wouldn’t have wanted so many eyes on him. In his own eyes, after all, it was because of them – and mostly because of her – that he was still alive. To attribute his recovery to his own strength of will – at least in a complete sense – would reek pungently of an untruth and would be, frankly, a very arrogant statement to make.

“What’s today’s date?” Katrina asked.

“Er…” Travis uttered, the victim of a momentary brain lapse.

“The eighth – July 8th,” Madeline replied instead. Lengthening her strides to match those of Travis, she commented, “Your birthday’s coming up pretty soon, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Travis replied. Madeline was indeed right; Travis would turn fifteen on the 28th, nine days before Madeline herself celebrated a birthday. Shiro, with a late-June birthday, was the oldest of the four, and Katrina, who was born in December (thirteen years to the day before Travis’ baby sister), was the youngest.

“July 8th…It’s hard to believe we’ve been in Hoenn almost two months already,” Katrina remarked with a smile. “Speaking of birthdays, at the rate we’re going, we should get to Fortree right as the Festival of Stratus starts.”

“Festival of what?” Shiro asked.

“I was reading up on it while we were still back in Lavaridge,” Katrina answered, looking over her shoulder. “To make a long story short, it’s the anniversary of the first settlement of Fortree.”

“The very first settlement? How long ago was that?” Shiro asked.

“That’s just it,” Katrina replied, raising a finger in indication of something important. “Fortree’s one of the oldest cities in Hoenn. Next week is its 500th birthday.”

“Five hundred years?” Shiro repeated.

“Anyway, from what I read, every year’s festival’s really exciting. They’ve got traditional foods that they make only for the occasion, aerial shows of Bird Pokémon – usually the city’s Gym Leader puts them on – and they’ve even got dances,” Katrina said, the excitement audible in her voice.

“Sounds fun,” Madeline commented.

Meanwhile, three feet in front and three feet below, Angel and Crescent were having a conversation…in a loose sense of the word.

“<Crescent, you’ve been really quiet this morning,>” Angel commented. “<I mean, quieter than usual. Is something going on?>”

“<…>” Crescent responded with a sigh instead of words.

“<What does…>” Angel imitated Crescent’s sigh and facial expression, “<…mean? You don’t want to talk to me?>”

Crescent sighed again. “<Sorry. My mind’s just somewhere else right now.>”

“<What’s wrong? You know you can tell me,>” Angel answered, nuzzling up to Crescent as they walked. “<You can tell me anything.>”

“<I’d rather not,>” Crescent said rather curtly. “<I don’t want you to worry about me.>”

Angel fell silent for a moment as Crescent continued to avoid her eyes as he had been doing for the entire conversation. There was a long, awkward silence – there had been a lot of those lately.

“<Well, I’m here,>” Angel finally said plaintively. “<Don’t forget that,>”

“<Yeah,>” Crescent answered with such lack of focus that it robbed Angel of what little desire she had to continue the conversation. She sadly fell into step with Travis and the others, leaving Crescent to walk on his own. The nice weather – the sun, the breeze – should have made her feel happy. After all, Travis was happier than he had been since he and Katrina had first started going out. Back then, she had just evolved from an Eevee and didn’t exactly know what was going on when, in the days following that great event two years ago, she felt sudden urges to jump, to dance, to laugh for no good reason. She knew now that she had been able to sense Travis’ feelings. She no longer felt the constant worry and stress that seemed to radiate like a merciless cold from his very innards. She felt it instead, from Crescent. So frustrating it was to have a small ability to read minds and yet not be able to know what the one she loved was thinking. If he only knew what she was thinking...maybe then, everything would be a bit better.

Northern Zephyr Sea, The Selma

The shoulder-length locks of copper hair at the back of his head awoke, roused into motion by a gust of wind from the south. He felt this breeze strike his back and then wash over him. He felt around his chin, where a short, prickly stubble had begun to grow. The two months of this adventure had aged him more than any other occurrence in his relatively short life…he supposed with his slightly wilder look that he fit in here more among young pirates and such. His original intention was to help the Prince in Rustboro, but it was obvious that things there were already under control.

The truth was that Kenjiro Kazaki was not one for courtesan life or for the trappings of knighthood. He had always lived life as a vagabond whose steps were unbridled, whose methods were left to his own choosing, and whose wanderings simply took him where the wind blew, all in an attempt to survive. He was not used to fighting for anything else – anyone else – other than himself.

Then he met her. He could still remember it, as clearly as if it had been yesterday. She had been a fugitive, on the run from those who wanted to control and overpower her, all in the name of some religion that was one part cult, one part martial arts dojo…and one part brothel. It still sent a chill up his spine to this day to think what would have happened to her if she had not managed to escape. She would have been, at worst, dead, and at best, permanently scarred from the ordeals she would have been forced to endure.

He, on the other hand, had been a mercenary – a man trying to eke out some sort of a living with his fighting skills, for those were the only skills he had been taught in any useful quantity. It just so happened, fortunately for him, that his appearance onto the stage of Hoenn coincided with what could turn out to be the most chaotic act in the epic of the kingdom thus far. Just as he had reached adulthood, King Elvanan had succumbed to illness, setting off the chain of events that had unraveled and eventually brought him to where he stood today. As enormous of a tragedy as the good king’s death was, Kenjiro couldn’t help but wonder if it had become the best thing that had ever happened to him. If King Elvanan were still alive, his two sons would not be fighting over the kingdom. If that were the case, he would have never been in the employ of Prince Elrik. In turn, he would likely have not been in Petalburg City that night, meeting with Elrik’s spies…

He heard footsteps behind him and knew almost instantly who they belonged to. He turned around and saw a young woman with hair of a blood red. Several strands of her hair shone of a silvery white. While Kenjiro’s outfit had changed (now a simple, dark-gray collared shirt that was ornamented with a shoelace-like formation of strings where the shirt separated to show part of his muscular chest, along with white pants), hers was still the same. She still wore, as she always did during daytime, the tunic that he had bought for her seventeenth birthday, as well as the form-fitting pants she had worn when they had initially met. A combination of constant exposure to sunlight as well as a significant decrease in stress had restored the color to her face, rendering it with a rosy tinge that served to make her look overall even more beautiful than she had looked before.

“You didn’t wake me up,” she said.

“Sorry, Reivyn,” Kenjiro muttered, not meeting her silver eyes. “You looked so peaceful sleeping that I didn’t want to bother you.”

Reivyn smiled.

“There was a battle in the woods last night,” Kenjiro said after a long silence.

“A battle?” Reivyn repeated. “Who won?”

“I’m not sure,” Kenjiro replied. “I just heard a lot of yelling and saw smoke.”

“Do you think we won?” Reivyn asked. “I mean…our side?”

“Maybe,” Kenjiro answered. “Probably…unless the Imperials decided to set fire to their own camp.”

“Oh…” Reivyn stood alongside Kenjiro and leaned over the railing. “I never noticed before with all the fighting, but…there’s something about the sea that’s really beautiful. When it’s calm…it’s easier for me to be calm.”

A smirk crossed Kenjiro’s lips.

“Huh?” Reivyn looked straight at Kenjiro, sounding affronted. “Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know,” Kenjiro replied. “I guess…I guess I was thinking the same thing about you.”

Reivyn’s cheeks soon matched the color of the majority of her hair. “D-do you mean that? That I’m…beautiful?”

“Yeah…” Kenjiro replied without even really thinking about it. “I mean…I guess I do…”

Reivyn laughed and leaned against Kenjiro’s shoulder, laughing.

“You never used to say anything nice…to anyone. Maybe because…” she commented.

“You never laughed, either,” Kenjiro replied. “You were…”

“Too afraid,” both said simultaneously. They stopped and looked at each other. Reivyn smiled and slid her arms around Kenjiro, releasing a giggle as she did so.

Mid-afternoon found Travis and the others not only inside Fortree City, but nearing the ferry dock at the eastern end of the city. At the end of a concrete and stone platform was a small ship, colored a stark white that stood in contrast to the clear, blue water. Surprisingly, the soldiers that Travis had thought would be in the city were not all concentrated in one area, and didn’t seem to have time for a group of children and Pokémon just passing through. Fortunately, the other three did a rather good job hiding Travis’ sword, which would have given them all away nearly instantly. The Pokémon also served as a good cover, giving them more of the appearance of the average group of young Trainers traveling together.

At last they arrived at the pier – Travis and Katrina first (the latter wearing her shades), followed by Shiro and Madeline. Standing at the singular entrance to the pier was a pair of guards armed with spears. Clad in black accented by silver chest plates, pauldrons, and helmets, they must have been quite warm indeed on this eighty-five-degree afternoon.

“Excuse me, sir,” Travis put on his best, most polite voice to get the Imperial soldiers’ attention. Both men looked at him, or at least in his general direction. Their eyes were hidden by their helmets. “When does the ferry go through to get to Fortree?”

“It doesn’t,” the soldier answered robotically.

“It doesn’t?” Travis repeated in half-surprise, half-annoyance, all while trying to keep his voice as polite as possible.

“The ferries have been shut down,” the soldier replied. “Recent security measures.”

“Security? Is something wrong?” Travis asked in an effort to extract more information from the soldier.
“Don’t you read the newspapers, kid?” the soldier replied in annoyance. “One of our camps was attacked by those rebels. General Ludwig’s unit sustained losses – not counting deserters and turncoats – and the General himself was injured.”

Travis could hardly dare to believe what he was hearing. It took everything he had not to blow his cover and burst into laughter right there in the face of the enemy. Behind him, Shiro and Madeline smiled at each other.

“That’s too bad,” Travis said, “but we really need to get across. We’re on our way to Fortree.”

“That’s too bad,” the soldier mimicked, “but we really can’t let you kids through – and even if we could, there aren’t any boats even moored in the harbor.”

“What do you think we are – blind??” Shiro exclaimed from the back, trying to push his way in front of Travis.

“Calm down,” Travis said rather loudly, stepping in front of Shiro and blocking his path. Whispering through his teeth, he added, “My point is to avoid causing a scene.”

Shiro stayed silent for a moment and then drew back, swearing under his breath.

“Okay, so you’re basically telling us that there’s no way in or out of this city?” Travis questioned.

“That’s basically it, yep. Sorry,” the soldier sounded as if he wasn’t sorry at all.

“Sure, whatever,” Shiro called over Travis’ shoulder.

“Leave it,” Travis sighed, turning around with Katrina and walking away from the pier. “Let’s go.”

Shiro and Madeline followed…and as soon as they were out of earshot of the guards, Shiro let them have it.

“Damn it!” he groaned. “What the hell are we gonna do now?”

“Go back to the Pokémon Center and figure out a different way, I guess…” Travis sighed. “We’re lucky those guys didn’t notice me as it is – you realize how many double takes I’ve been getting since we stepped back inside the city?”

“Didn’t notice,” Shiro said sourly, looking back at Travis, who was now shrinking behind him along with Katrina and Madeline as he walked out of frustration, eventually leaving them all behind. After several seconds, Shiro hit something – or something.

“Gah!” he groaned, stepping back and looking up ever so slightly into the face of a man. Just taller than Shiro, he stood six-foot-one or so, and was dressed rather well. The most distinguishing feature of this man was the shock of grayish hair that sat atop his head, despite the fact that this man must have been thirty at the extreme oldest.

“Whoops,” the man said, kneeling down and picking up what looked like it could have been a mobile phone off the ground. Standing up to his full height and looking straight at Shiro, he laughed, “Guess that’s what happens when your life’s programmed into a cell phone. Sorry about that. I’ll try to watch where I’m going from now on.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shiro said, a bit shocked that someone that exuded such an immediate air of importance would be apologizing to him after an incident like this.

“Shiro!” he turned around to see Travis, Madeline, Katrina, Angel, and Crescent all running toward him. Travis had been the one who yelled. “What were you doing, taking off like –”

He stopped dead in his tracks when he got a look at the man, who surprisingly had the same reaction when he saw Travis.

“What?” Shiro asked. “What happened?”

“These guys are with me. I’ll take responsibility for them. That sound good?”

“All right – if you say so.”

Fifteen minutes later, Travis and the others, incredulous at their luck, were sitting in a room inside the boat that they had seen moored in the harbor – a boat that happened to be a yacht that belonged to the current Hoenn League Champion, Steven Stone. Travis, with Angel sleeping in his lap, was seated at a rather large, wooden table along with Katrina, Shiro, and Madeline. (Crescent, who had been increasingly aloof in the last few days, sat in a corner.) From the looks of this place, it appeared to be used mainly for dining. Steven, however, didn’t seem to have any designs on eating right away, which was just as well, because Travis wasn’t hungry.

After a long silence that was about the second most awkward silence that Travis had ever had to sit through – the most awkward one was at a dinner table in Blackthorn Castle two years ago when Shiro’s young uncle, Lorca, had to introduce his nephew, Shiro, and his friend (and now wife), Marcia, to the Blackthorn family upon their arrival – Steven leaned over the table and said, “Travis DePaul. I’ve wanted to meet you for some time now. I wish it was under better circumstances…”

“Same here,” Travis replied.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m in this part of Hoenn, aren’t you?” Steven asked. “I just got back from Rustboro – and good thing I went, too.”

He began to recount what had happened to his brother, Alex, and chronicled the happenings in the Royalist camp for the last couple of days. It was under his voice that Travis found out many things – the condition of Alex Stone, the victories of the Emerald Knights, and even the fact that Steven was indeed a closet Royalist (those who supported the Prince and the Kingship as opposed to Edgar’s new Imperium), on their side and on the side of Prince Elrik in the conflict. Surprisingly, the conversation never switched to Pokémon, as would be expected for several Trainers of varying levels of achievement and experience in the same room. The three hours between shores passed like a bit of a blur – an informative blur, but a blur nonetheless. The whole experience left Travis and the others with a feeling of encouragement.

Before the fact that he had just had a glimpse into the head of the most important person in Hoenn outside of the court had hit him, Travis and all of his friends were standing on the opposite shore, walking along the small beach with Steven Stone steps ahead of them. Daylight was still broad at this time of year, giving them perhaps another two hours of safe travel until they would be forced to camp for the night.

After some time, Steven turned around.

“You said you were headed to Fortree, right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Travis said in confirmation.

“I think I’ll go on ahead. I think it’s safer for everyone if we’re not seen with each other. Aside from blowing our cover, I don’t want to hurt your reputation by making everyone think that I’m giving you special treatment,” Steven replied.

“Makes sense,” Travis nodded. Even if Steven had agreed to accompany them, Travis would have turned him down for the same reason.

“Well, I guess this is where I let you guys go,” Steven said, turning around and walking back past them. “I’m staying here for another couple of days to gather information, but I’ll be up in Fortree for the Festival. If I don’t see you then…I guess it’ll be in Evergrande, right?”

“Definitely,” Travis said confidently.

“You keep fighting the good fight, then,” Steven said, beginning to walk away from them. “Oh, and Travis…”

“Hm?” Travis looked up at him.

“Don’t think that you’re making a mistake by sticking to Pokémon Training right now,” Steven admonished him. “Now that we’re at civil war, the people of Hoenn need the League more than ever. The people cheer for their Champion or their favorite young prospect without worrying about the carnage that the next day might bring. There aren’t any Imperials or Royalists in those stadiums – just Hoennites enjoying the thrill of competition. Whatever you do…don’t lose yourself to this war.”

“I won’t make that mistake again,” Travis said, a fierce gaze in his eyes that told the story more than the calm determination in his voice. He grasped Katrina’s hand, almost as if by his strong grip he had sworn specifically to her. “Never.”

Steven’s eyes closed.

“Tournament’s in September, right?” Travis questioned, his eyes glinting. “You’ve got two months.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be ready,” Steven replied, finally taking his leave, leaving the four humans and two Pokémon on the beach by themselves.

“Fortree, Mossdeep, and Sootopolis,” Travis recited. “The last three badges are at those Gyms.”

“Well, what the hell are we standing around here waiting for?” Shiro exclaimed. “Let’s rock!”

“Let’s get inland. Then, tomorrow, we can start some real traveling,” Travis replied.



They did travel for another hour or two just as they had planned. This placed them slightly north of the beach, on something of a lightly forested plateau. The land was much flatter here than what they had encountered in the area of Lavaridge, making travel much easier and much faster.

For now, however, travel had ceased, as they had finally run out of daylight. They ate their dinner, but not without tension – it had become markedly obvious that Crescent and Angel had not talked for nearly the entire day, and this trend continued into dinner, where they would commonly converse and share the same food affectionately. By contrast, Hotshot and Sparx had been let out to eat as well and were all over each other, only serving to double the awkwardness of the situation. If Travis had remembered correctly, the two had paired off about this time two years ago.

In any case, dinner ended, and Travis slipped off by himself. He gazed at the twinkling stars in the clear night sky as he lay on his back in the soft grass, under the sound of only the wind and a few nocturnal Pokémon uttering their cries to the moonlit heavens.

“Want some company?” Katrina’s voice asked.

“Sure,” Travis said. Katrina laid down next to him. He turned his head to face her as his nose rubbed against hers and their eyes locked upon each other.

“Suddenly, it’s like you don’t worry anymore,” Katrina finally commented. “What happened?”

“I just decided not to,” Travis explained. “I know I’ll come out on top at the end, so I don’t need to think about what might happen if I don’t.”

“That’s all?” Katrina asked.

“That’s it,” he answered. “Simple, huh?”

“Yeah,” Katrina replied in a whisper, kissing him. “Simple.”

Miles away, Nathaniel Elm gazed from the sunroom balcony at the same night sky. His mane of shoulder-length, black hair looked ever the same, as did his choice of clothes.

“Nate…” the boy’s burgundy eyes opened and he looked over his shoulder to find his blonde, middle-aged mother striding toward him, holding what looked to be a telephone. Smiling, she said, “It’s for you.”

Katherine ruffled her son’s long hair, winked, and went back into the main part of the house. Nate grinned and put the receiver to his face.

“I thought I just got rid of you,” he said wryly, looking straight across the street at a lit window, where a form was no doubt looking back at him from the other side.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Avril’s voice was slightly garbled over the phone, but very nearly as sweet and vivacious as it was in person. “I know you just got back, but…hear me out.”

“I’m here. What’s going on?” Nate asked.

The answer he heard would surely change the face of things.

[Air Dragon]

Sweet...

Though it may be four thirty a.m. in my part of the world, i'm shall not rest until thy grand work in thoroughly scutinized (for the wait we endured) and praised (for sticking in there and keeping it together)...

I'll be back...

Quite the chapter, quite the chapter. Was it just me or did this seem a little shorter than usual? Though the sword fight blew me away. TOTALLY...AWAY.

Talk about your lucky breaks... Travis and co. meeting Steven helped out loads, though not much for Angel and Crescent. Now to add to the egg mystery, we have a new mystery concerning NatexAvril. Could it be...

NO grammar problems to report this time, mon capitaine, but one problem did occur:

Mid-afternoon found Travis and the others not only inside Fortree City, but nearing the ferry dock at the eastern end of the city.

I’m a little confused here... weren’t they initially heading for Mauville Harbour?

Other than that, you've now pushed me into a crazy as hell waiting phase once again. No one does that better than you, buddy.

Give it up!

L@er!

[SamuraiDragon1]

I liked the fighting part in the first bit of the chapter. It really drew you into it.

There some real plot devevelopment and You ended with a real clif-hanger.

The only mistake I saw was this:

After several seconds, Shiro hit something – or something.

I think you ment Someone.

A really enjoyable chapter and the wait wasn't all that bad compared to some caughharrypottercaugh =)

[Oathblivion]

w00t, new chapter! And what a chapter it was... Definitely one of your better ones, in my opinion. Sheridan's sword fell right into a guy's chest, apparantly; that was the first blood of the war. That brings me to point number one to shower with praise: Sheridan v. Ludwig. It was really nice to see characters that don't have supernatural spirit gun powers beating up one another, and you took the opportunity and ran with it. This is one of your better fights, for sure. Also, lol @ Ludwig running away after all the bravado he put on.

Next up on the list would be the current state of affairs over at camp Kenjiro. I, for one, didn't see him joining the pirates coming at all. I'm unsure whether or not to call it a plot twist, as he isn't really doing anything yet, but I know this isn't the last we'll see of him. Furthermore, you have my thanks for assuring our pillaging friends a spot in the climax, or at the very least somewhere close to it.

Third, even though Travis and Co. didn't get involved in much action this chapter, there was character development in very noticeable places. The effects of emo-Travis' death are beginning to shine, and the summary Madeline and Shiro gave was most enlightening. As a final point: the origin of Shiro's new rod are explained! Hooray!

After a long silence that was about the second most awkward silence that Travis had ever had to sit through – the most awkward one was at a dinner table in Blackthorn Castle two years ago when Shiro’s young uncle, Lorca, had to introduce his nephew, Shiro, and his friend (and now wife), Marcia, to the Blackthorn family upon their arrival – Steven leaned over the table and said, “Travis DePaul. I’ve wanted to meet you for some time now. I wish it was under better circumstances…”

*sigh* Good times... good times...

Meanwhile, he went for the sword of the soldier whose leg he had just broken and rolled to his feet with it in one hand and his own blade in the other.

So he breaks the guy's leg and steals his sword? How on earth is the poor soldier supposed to live that down. Sorry, I just find that rather funny...

As always, keep up the good work, and try to never let thoughts of quitting enter your head. At least not until AP is over with :P, -Oath

[xXPorygonXx]

Good to see a new chappie. Sorry to hear that you considered giving up...how bad was the writer's block?

No problems with grammer, only confusing thing I saw-

“Kuh…” a red-haired soldier dressed in black with silver armor looked down at the one unprotected portion of his torso as it began to bleed, the victim of a well-aimed but desperate sword strike.

-was this. Seemed a bit confusing to read.

Other than, interesting development so far, can't wait to see what happens next.

~xXPorygonXx

[WhyNot]

Wow I've been readin this for a long time but just recently joined....AMAZING.Along with a couple other Fics it inspired me to make a Fic of my own, to join Serebii, and to not give up on pokemon. It is my favorite fic.

[Diddy]

Seems like an epidemic, well if you can call two people an epidemic, so I'll give you the same(ish) speech I gave to Saber.

If you can't find a reason to write, think to us the humble readers, if we be not inspiration much then think of the starving africans you see in those donate two pounds a month adverts, how would they feel if you just gave up eh. Disappointed and hungry thats what. And all the abused animals in the RSPCA adverts, they will be casting shame upon you. Look up and be happy. The sun will shine again my friend.


Hopefully that sorts that.

Anywho, the chapter was ver awesome. Especially the camp raid, It just makes sense that battles in forests are just better than say on barren wastelands. Gives a nice background to a horrific scene.

And yay for convienient plot twists, reminds me of a fic I once read.

"Blaine, why do you want to trade me a Magmar?" "For plot advancement."

Yes I would say this has been one of the best chapters yet, it had a kind of pernache about it. Gave it some Style, a bit of class.

[SamuraiDragon1]

Diddy, What does the "R"in rspca stand for? I know the other letters.(I should I work there.)

[Diddy]

It's the Royal Society for the Protection against Cruelty to Animals.

You work there as a volunteer or as an actual employee.

Anyway to keep this on-topic. (I know, look whose talking) Erm... what to say to make it on-topic. Erm... Yeah the chapter was pretty darn awesome.

[EonMaster One]

AD: Oh, [expletive deleted]. I did type Fortree. Crap. Was that one of those parts I tried to do at two in the morning when I had no business being awake? Probably. Yeah, I had to get creative with that sword fight because there's only so much you can do with two average Joes that aren't powered up like nobody's business. The whole Angel and Crescent thing is going to finally approach critical mass in the next chapter. It's something that's been coming for a while now.

SamuraiDragon: Erm...that's because Rowling's books are all monstrosities. Not to say my works are short, but...

Oath: Yeah, he broke his leg AND stole his sword. Whatchu gonna do about it? Sheridan's a BAMF like that. ^_^

xXPorygonXx: Well, it just sounded a hell of a lot better than, "Sheridan stabbed him in the gut. He fell over. He died. The end."

WhyNot: I write for fun, obviously, but hearing from people like you is definitely inspiration for me to keep going. Thanks.

Diddy: Style...just wait until Maverick Heart. ^_^

In any case, guys, can I ask you to give me a bit more time? Probably 3-7 days should do it. The last half of the chapter is a rather lengthy Pokemon battle that I haven't been able to start yet. Let's see, this week...between now and Thursday, I have 5 exams, 3 papers, and a cold that won't go away. Yeah, this week is definitely going to be a bi--I mean, really fun.

So, that's the line. I'm not stopping, save for death.

Later, guys.

- EM1

For those who do not HAIL...come DIRE AND DEADLY CONSEQUENCES.

[SamuraiDragon1]

I actually work as a volunteer at the spca in the USA and I have heard of aspca but not rspca.

Rowling's books are big (especialy when I'm holding them) but it takes two years to get one book out by which time I have to read the last book again.

Feel better soon.

[Diddy]

A cold that won't go away huh?

I have a cold all winter, cos it's cold and I always get ill. Then it gets warmer, yay no colds. But no I also have Hayfever, walking home from college, people mowing lawns = headaches, clogged sinuses and generally crappy feeling. Guh.

And yeah, the HP series is unnaturally long, but not anymore cos I've read a 1168 page book recently and am now reading an 800 page plus book. And don't forget her longest book (Order Of The Phoenix - coincidence hmm) had sooooo much filler in it, it is was unreal. Gladly Deathly Hallows was shorter (not by that much) but was mainly all plot advancement, bam, bam, bam. Action everywhere.

Lets just hope I get better.

[xXPorygonXx]

Your words wound me.

Meh. -_-

Good luck with the cold dude, I just recovered from one. It sucked.

[absolftw]

Dude this fic is great! i read prj then this..... keep it up

[WhyNot]

AD:

WhyNot: I write for fun, obviously, but hearing from people like you is definitely inspiration for me to keep going. Thanks.

Sorry I PMed you before I read this post so sorry for for spamming your Email. None the less good luck on writing this.

[EonMaster One]

Geez, I haven’t actually done Pokémon battles in what feels like forever. Don’t worry – you’ll get your fill in the next couple of chapters…and then some.

Chapter 33: The Good, The Brad, and the Ugly

July 10, PA 2013 – Just South of the Hoenn Meteorological Tower

Noon had arrived on the plateaus of Central Hoenn, bringing with it July heat, humidity, lunch with friends…and Pokémon Training.

Having grown bored of pounding on the nearly endless droves of Zigzagoon and Linoone that permeated the area, Travis and Katrina decided to turn their Pokémon on each other in a series of friendly practice battles, whilst Madeline and Shiro, accompanied by Hotshot, Sparx, Angel, and Crescent, looked on. Most tense was the obvious coldness between the last of these two, who had seemingly found very little to say to one another in the last several days.

On one side stood Travis. In front of him was a creature that was a dark green and right at home in his humid, heavily forested environment…

Champ…

Angel observed her teammate, who had a competitive, almost manic, glint in his eye as he prepared to enter the fray once again.

…versus…

Crescent, meanwhile, looked at the other side of the field, where Katrina had called into action…frankly, his least favorite team member. A canine creature with brown fur flecked with streaks of snowy white, his arrogant smirk and his aloof way made him a lone wolf in every sense of the word…

…Arcus.

As soon as the matchup was set, the weight of the tension in the air seemingly doubled…it had gone from being palpable to as thick as the grass was around these parts. One needed a machete to cut through it…or perhaps a LARGE axe if they all didn’t utterly hate them so much for the bad memories they invoked…

There was a definite feeling of unease comparable to how one would deal with a Tauros slumbering in a living room. If perhaps so much as a feather was placed near the beast’s nostrils, causing him to sneeze…

…Then all hell would break loose.

“<Get ready for the fight of your life,>” the Grovyle said, crouching low as the leaf blades on his arms came alive with a bright green glow.

“<You like hearing yourself talk, don’t you?>” Arcus replied with a coldness worse than his Ice Beam.

There was a long lull. Suddenly, Madeline elbowed Shiro.

“Ow!” Shiro grunted. “Hey, what the he—”

“You’re supposed to give them the signal to start, remember?” Madeline muttered very softly.

“Oh…yeah, that’s right,” Shiro said sheepishly. Raising his hand into the air, he shouted, “Fight!”

“Arcus, Ice Beam!” Katrina started. A ball of white materialized near the Ice-type creature’s mouth as he uttered a lupine snarl.

“Quick Attack, Champ!” Travis ordered. Travis’ eyes suddenly slowed down to see Champ shift his streamlined body out of the way. The Grovyle’s reptilian, yellow eyes narrowed, and the creature pushed off his left foot, going from nothing to full sprint in the matter of less than a second. The Ice Beam made contact with the ground in front of Travis, cooling his ankles dramatically and creating a rather slick spot frozen over with a thin layer of ice.

“<You’re too slow to keep up with me!>” Champ taunted. Arcus reacted by firing another Ice Beam at him, which he easily avoided. Arcus attacked him with a third, this time releasing it in front of Champ in the hopes that the Grovyle’s momentum would carry him into its throes.

The attempt was unsuccessful, as Champ saw this coming, slowed to a stop, and then turned on a dime, shooting straight at Arcus, who growled loudly in response. A smirk seized his face and he fired a fourth Ice Beam – this time, straight into the ground. Champ went flailing and Arcus jumped away from him just as the unfortunate Grass-type lurched forward and hit the dirt head-first.

“<Geez...A facer right into the ground – that’s gotta hurt,>” Hotshot commented.

“<No kidding,>” Sparx commented.

“<That’s the way!>” the latest exclamation came from none other than Crescent, whose crimson eyes were fixed on the battle with laser-like focus. “<Battle from the neck up!>”

“<I don’t need you to be my cheerleader, Crescent,>” Arcus said, avoiding an angry Leaf Blade attack from a retaliating Champ. “<I got this.>”

“<Cheerleader, huh?>” Sparx commented. “<Hey, maybe we should get him a little skirt and some pom-poms.>”

“<I don’t know, babe,>” Hotshot replied across Crescent. “<He would look cute in a dress.>”

“<Very funny,>” Crescent replied hotly. “<Got any more jokes, you kennel reject?>”

“<Hey!>” Sparx’s cheeks started crackling – a very dangerous sign.

“<Gosh, I was just messing with you, man,>” Hotshot rolled his eyes, walking away from him. “<Get your head outta your ***.>”

“<I don’t have my head up my ***, thanks,>” Crescent shouted, having heard the snide remark. “<But I’ll be happy to put a foot up yours.>”

“<Crescent!>” Angel exclaimed, having finally heard enough.

“<What?>” Crescent snapped. “<Tell him to get off my case.>”

Angel stayed silent. Meanwhile, Crescent turned back to the battle.

“<That’s right!>” he exclaimed as Champ went flying across the field, arriving near Travis’ feet. “<Show him you won’t be pushed around!>”

“<You don’t need to tell me twice,>” Arcus barked. “<In fact…you really don’t need to say **** to me. Just watch me work.>”

He pawed the ground and prepared himself for the finish.

“<What are you, trying to make a point?>” Champ asked as he stood. “<I don’t want her like that. Get it through your head.>”

“<You took the words right out of my mouth,>” Arcus snarled. “<Now, get your *** off the ground so I can finish you off.>”

“<Try it,>” Champ said, rising to his feet as his Leaf Blades kicked into life again.

“<That’s it!>” Crescent yelled. “<End the battle!>”

“<For the last time!>” Arcus lost his temper at Crescent’s attempted exhortations. “<Shut the…>”

“Champ! Use Screech!” Travis’ order drowned out Arcus’ foul language. Champ looked up and opened his mouth, which released a terrible sound. Travis groaned under it slightly and Katrina took a step back.

“<What in the WORLD?!>” Hotshot shouted in disapproval at the high pitch as he reeled backward.

“<…Damn it!>” Arcus shouted.

“<Don’t like that much?>” Champ taunted as he finally took a breath. Arcus looked up, snarling angrily as a single drop of blood trickled forth from one of his ears. “<Heh. Guess not.>”

“<*******!>” Arcus barked loudly. “<I’ll make you scream.>”

“Arcus! Hit him with Aurora Beam!” Katrina shouted. Arcus opened his mouth and a rainbow-colored burst of light shot forth from it, directed right at Champ, who was just getting to his feet. He stood and soon took the Aurora Beam right to the chest, coughing as he doubled over and hit the ground.

“Ngh…” Travis grit his teeth.

“A little more than you bargained for, huh?” Katrina asked. “Think you want to call it?”

“<Don’t you dare,>” Champ staggered to his feet, his yellow eyes glinting.

“<Give it up, already,>” Arcus shook his head. “<I’ve beaten you.>”

“<I’ve been taking it easy on you,>” Champ said, a reddish light instead of a green one enveloping his Leaf Blades.

“Huh?” Shiro commented.

“<What in…>” Arcus grunted.

“Don’t use this very often, but what the hell,” Travis cocked his neck. “Champ, Fury Cutter!”

Champ blurred out of sight as he made a move toward Arcus. Arcus hesitated for a second…

WHAM.

A red-tinged blade of grass flashed in front of the face of Arcus, sending him skyward. Champ leapt into the air and brought the second attack down onto Arcus’ head, smashing him back down to the earth. Arcus hit the ground with a thump and rolled to his feet right as the Grovyle descended upon him with a further Fury Attack and knocked him down again. He pinned Arcus to the ground and, with unwonted violence, began to lay into him with cut after cut.

“<Take this – and this – and this…>” Champ grunted.

“<I thought this was supposed to be a friendly battle,>” Hotshot commented.

“I take it those two don’t like each other very much?” Shiro muttered.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Madeline replied, rolling her eyes slightly. “I think you should call it before someone winds up getting killed.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Shiro sighed nonchalantly. Raising a hand, he yelled, “That’s it!!”

Champ and Arcus both looked at Shiro like he was the most appalling thing on the face of the earth.

“I hereby declare the match a draw…or something like that,” Shiro said loudly.

“Yeah, I think that’s enough. We don’t want to get them so banged up that we can’t keep journeying,” Travis commented.

“I guess so…we can probably rest at the Weather Tower up ahead – they’ve always got beds for passing travelers,” Katrina commented.

“<You’re gonna pay for not knocking me out when you had the chance,>” Arcus growled.

“<What??>” Champ shouted, this time raising a clenched fist.

In that instant, Arcus had opened his mouth and Champ was enveloped in white light. To the great shock and dismay of all witnesses (except Crescent, who kept a surprisingly stoic expression through all this) Champ fell backward, encased in a large, misshapen block of solid, translucent ice.

“<That was a total cheap shot! Champ had let his guard down!>” Angel spat with rage. “<Crescent, say something to him!!>”

Crescent finally spoke.

“<You know as well as I do that he won’t listen,>” he said. Angel stared at him through her crystal eyes as he averted his.

“<What’s going on with you?>” she asked. “<You’ve changed.>”

“<It’s none of your business,>” he replied. “<That is…don’t worry about it.>”

“<None of my…>” Angel repeated in utter shock. “<Why all the secrets? Why can’t you be honest with me and tell me what’s wrong? Maybe I can help...>”

“<You can’t,>” Crescent interrupted sharply. “<This is something I have to do by myself.>”

As the others had begun to walk off toward the north (Champ and Arcus had both been returned), Crescent walked off, leaving Angel by herself.

“<…By yourself?>” Angel repeated. Her gem-like eyes began to water, but she blinked the tears back. Surely Crescent couldn’t mean what she thought he did…there was no way. They had been together too long, gone through too much…

…For it all to go to waste.

Emerald Knight Headquarters, Romero Manor – Rustboro City

Captain Sheridan Hadley and Lieutenant Kelvin Woodson stood before the Prince of Hoenn and his retinue in the small war room of the Romero Manor.

“I trust that you will do a good job of protecting the flank,” Ivanna said. “If they are suddenly retaken, we will be hemmed in on two sides.

“There’s no need to worry so much, Ivanna,” dark-faced, graying-haired Roald remarked. “After all…he has already proven himself to be…capable, if not extraordinary.”

“That’s flattering, sir, but…” Sheridan began.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Rashid interrupted. “You can still bleed the same as any other man.”

“I am well aware of that,” Sheridan replied respectfully.

“That’s all I needed to know,” Rashid said.

“You’re dismissed. Good luck, soldier,” Ivanna said.

Sheridan and Woodson saluted across their chests in tandem, bowed respectfully to the Prince (who grimaced a bit at the gesture) and turned to leave. Once they were out of earshot, Ivanna laid into Rashid.

“For someone that just won an important battle for us, and with minimal casualties, at that,” she commented, “You gave him an awfully hard time.”

“He’s a soldier – he can handle it,” Rashid commented.

“You sure don’t seem to have much confidence in him,” Ivanna said, the rise in her tone of voice a sign of her patience wearing thin. “The first thing out of your mouth when I gave him command of the attack was that you felt sorry for his family.”

“What I meant was that it must be tough on a family that’s already seen a husband and father go missing to see a son and brother deployed to battle as well,” Rashid said.

“You thought he was going to get himself killed,” Ivanna fired back. “Now you’ve got to eat your words – not only did he survive, but nearly all of his unit came back unharmed.”

“You’re just protecting him because he was your favorite student,” Rashid said, a nasty edge to his voice signifying that he was on the verge of losing it. “You talk him up so much – I thought you…”

“Mind your business!” Ivanna stood to her feet, slamming her fist into the table, her brown eyes glittering with rage at Rashid’s insinuation. “You’re just ****** off at him because he did the Prince’s work, not yours!”

“What do you mean by that?” Rashid shouted back.

“You know damn well what I mean,” Ivanna’s voice lowered to a near-growl. “Everybody in the Emerald Knights knows that you want General Ludwig dead.”

“Some people can’t be allowed to live, Ivanna,” Rashid stood to his feet, too. His comment was made by Ivanna bringing her nose within inches of his.

“You had a chance to kill him the first time – why didn’t you?” she asked. “Getting the common man to lay his life on the line to push your agenda…you’re no better than Edgar!! Do you even care about this cause anymore?”

“Don’t you dare get on a high horse with me!” Rashid shouted back. “The only reason you’re here is because you want to avenge your father.”

“Honestly, enough…” the aged wizard and strategist, Hong Liu sighed. Somehow, this quiet expression of grief managed to calm the shouting match between the two young military leaders. He looked up through his beady eyes and said, “As a mighty fortress with opened gates…so is an army with quarrelling leaders.”

Rashid and Ivanna continued to stare flaming daggers of doom and destruction at each other. Ivanna averted her eyes from Rashid, stared at Elrik’s shocked expression for a while – regretfully – and began to stride out of the room.

“You must learn to control yourself,” Roald scolded his son. “Your temper has been getting the better of you recently.”

“You, too?” Rashid seemed hurt beyond words. “I thought you, of all people…”

“I do wish to bring him to justice, yes…and rest assured, he will be…” Roald interrupted calmly. “There are bigger things at stake. Do not forget that.”



Meanwhile, Sheridan and Woodson had returned to the mansion’s foyer. Fortunately, Sheridan’s heart had just begun to slow down to normal – meeting with the Prince and his advisors in a setting like that one made him very nervous.

“Do you…” Sheridan started to speak and trailed off without finishing his sentence.

“Hmm?” Woodson raised his eyebrow and looked straight at the young Captain. Sheridan realized that he hadn’t completed his statement and responded.

“Do you get the feeling that I’m not very popular with a lot of the Emerald Knights?” Sheridan asked.

“What are you talking about? Ever since we came back from the front lines a few days ago, you’ve been a hero,” Woodson reassured him. “Of course, when you have success at something, there are always gonna be a few people that hate your guts. I wouldn’t worry about it, in any case. You’re not in this for glory, are you?”

“No,” Sheridan replied vehemently. “I’m in this for my family.”

“Right – so don’t worry so much about what other people are saying to you behind your back,” Woodson said, shrugging his shoulders, “especially if they don’t have the balls to say it to your face.”

“Guess you’re right,” Sheridan sighed. “Thanks, Kelvin.”

“Anytime,” Woodson said, clapping his friend on the back. At that moment, Hadley and Woodson caught sight of a pair of people walking the other way. One was a rather scruffy-looking man of about thirty with curly, messy hair of a dull myrtle green. His chin and jaws were covered with short, prickly stubble, and his lazy eyes were visible behind slightly drooping eyelids, giving him the look of one who had just awoken from a week-long slumber.

And then there was her.

She was a touch on the short side, not bearing any gaudy physical assets. Every part of her body was in proportion to her frame. That frame was thin, but not in a wan or sickly kind of way. She simply favored daintier and more petite physical features – or rather, they seemed to favor her. Her body seemed to have been designed not quite to excite sexual attraction, but rather to make her appearance endearingly delicate. The small, dark green halter top she wore along with her white pants added to this image, which was completed by her face. She had hair of a vibrant orange, arranged in bangs in the front and two large, braided loops in the back that bounced when she walked. She had eyes that were colored a very peculiar, but quite pretty, shade between green and gray – almost like the underside of a healthy spring leaf, in fact. She had a light peppering of freckles that arched over the bridge of her small nose and showed the most when she smiled. Overall, she looked like a small girl that had grown but somehow not aged.

“Afternoon, Captain,” the man next to the girl said. “Doing alright?”

“Are you serious?” the girl asked incredulously. “Orda…you’re joking, right? This guy?”

“Yes,” Orda said with a slight tinge of impatience in his voice. The girl stepped forward.

“So, you’re the great Captain Sheridan Hadley,” she said, straight to Sheridan this time.

“I don’t know about ‘great’,” Sheridan responded modestly, “but my name is Sheridan Hadley and I am a captain…I guess.”

“That’s strange,” the girl replied, looking Sheridan over for a moment.

“What’s strange?” Sheridan asked.

“Yeah…tell us what’s so strange about it,” Orda echoed.

“Well, maybe it’s a perception kind of thing,” the orange-haired girl shook her head again. “I don’t know…I always thought that you’d look more like, a lot of facial hair, muscles popping out of your armor, about Orda’s age…”

“Hey, are you calling me old?” Orda grumbled.

“You’re older than I am,” the girl shot back. Turning to Sheridan, she added, “You, on the other hand, look like you could be my age.”

“What is that, exactly?” Woodson piped in.

“That’s so classless – what are you thinking?” Sheridan suddenly muttered to Woodson. “You don’t ask a lady her age. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

Woodson grimaced at Sheridan’s sudden tongue-lashing. Meanwhile, the girl in question had paused for a moment.

“A lady?” the girl repeated, her face a bit pink. Raising her voice dramatically, perhaps out of embarrassment, she asked, “Anyway, how old are you?”

“Me? I just turned seventeen – about two months ago,” Sheridan replied. The girl seemed taken aback.

“Oh…really? We’re almost the same age, then,” she answered.

“Are you seventeen?” Woodson asked.

“Well, not yet…” she admitted. “But I will be – in September.”

“Oh, okay,” Sheridan replied. Woodson’s eyebrows raised in recognition.

“Wait a second…aren’t you Talan Ainge’s little sister or something?” he asked.

“Sort of…well, not really,” she conceded. “He’s actually my cousin, but we’re almost like brother and sister because we’ve been living together since we were little kids.”

“Oh, I get it…” Woodson replied.

“Speaking of little sisters, I heard you have a really big family,” the girl said to Sheridan.

“If being the oldest of eight is big, then I guess so…” Sheridan answered.

“Eight?” the girl repeated incredulously. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s really uncommon for a family to have that many kids in this day and age. Maybe back in the sixteenth or seventeenth century…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sheridan shook his head. “I get that a lot.”

The girl had no immediate response, which created quite the awkward silence for a few moments. Sheridan tried to avert his eyes elsewhere – he didn’t want her to freak out and think he was a stalker or something. At the same time, though, he couldn’t look away. She, in contrast, seemed to be unable to look at Sheridan with a straight face. She tried once and then looked at her feet again. She then popped her head up and looked straight at him.

“Don’t we need to tell Talan about our new mission?” Orda piped in.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” the orange-haired girl said with a bit of a stammer. Quickly offering her hand to Sheridan, she said, “I’m Jillian. I’m looking forward to…working with you very soon.”

“Hm?” Sheridan wore a bemused expression on his face for a moment before he finally took her hand to shake it. As delicate as her hand was, it could exact a very firm grip when she wanted it to do so. One thing was certain – she was not weak. She simply concealed her strength very well…a bit like him, truthfully. “Oh...I’m looking forward to it, too. Nice meeting you.”

“We’ll see you…in a day or two, I guess,” Jillian removed her hand, using it to beckon to Orda. “Come on, let’s go.”

“About time,” Orda sighed, following Jillian to the other side of the mansion’s foyer and down the stairs into the basement, which was once and now a practice area for some of the soldiers.

When Jillian and Orda had disappeared into the yawning, dark stairwell, Woodson let out a snicker.

“Bet you could have lived with talking to her a few more hours, huh?” he commented slyly.

“What do you mean by that?” Sheridan questioned a bit nervously.

“You like looking at her,” Woodson replied. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’m not…” Sheridan started. Woodson shook his head.

“You don’t think she’s attractive?” he asked.

“Well…yeah, I guess. Of course, she’s nice-looking, but…” Sheridan trailed off. Woodson stared back at him with raised eyebrows and then smiled.

“Forget it,” Woodson said. “We’ve got a mission to get ready for, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sheridan said rather distractedly, his eyes still wandering in the neighborhood of the doorway into which Jillian and Orda had just vanished from sight.

BOOM.

A sound of distant thunder shook the walls of the Hoenn Meteorological Tower as the overhead fluorescents flickered for a few moments. In the rest area of the Tower, in which they had obtained four beds for practically nothing, Travis and Katrina sat on the bed the latter had chosen, whilst Madeline leaned against the wall and Shiro paced, taking furtive glances at the window. This area was set up nothing like a Pokémon Center’s lodging – there were four separate, twin-sized beds, each surrounded about four feet up by a ring of iron upon which were curtains that could be drawn around the bed at the patron’s pleasure. The floor was tile and seemed to be one and the same with the floor on the other side of the door, where the actual laboratory was located.

Shiro let out a whistle.

“Damn,” he swore in slight awe, “it’s a good thing we got here when we did. How much would it have sucked to try and travel in this weather?”

“A lot,” Madeline answered her boyfriend’s rhetorical question, still leaning placidly against the wall. As it had been for the last several weeks, her chocolate-brown hair was tied back into a bun, leaving only a few strands of hair (most of them flecked with a very light shade of blonde) hanging down the right side of her face and resting against her cheek every so often. She let out a resigned sigh. “It’s no good, guys. We’re probably going to have to rest here until at least tomorrow.”

“No big – it’s not like we’re in a hurry,” Shiro commented. “We’ve gotta pick our times, though – from what I heard some of the workers here saying, this area of Hoenn gets all kinds of random weather patterns.”

“So I’m guessing it’ll be hotter than hell tomorrow,” Travis sighed.

“Yeah…or it could snow,” Shiro said rather offhandedly.

“Snow?” Travis repeated. “We’d be screwed. It’s the middle of July. We didn’t bring anything for snow.”

“Relax, I’m just messing with ya,” Shiro laughed. “It only does that up until April. It’s too damn hot around here this time of year.”

“Yeah, we figured that out,” Travis said.

“It’d help if you didn’t wear long pants all the time,” Katrina commented.

“I’ve just never been a shorts guy,” Travis said defensively. “They make me look like a little kid.”

Katrina giggled. “‘They make me look like a little kid….’”

Travis grimaced at Katrina for mocking him.

“Wasn’t the first day of our journey like this?” Shiro asked. “Back two years ago?”

“Yeah. The weather started out great, then BOOM. The skies opened up,” Travis said. “And that was right when Angel had gotten hurt fighting a Sentret, too…”

“Speaking of Angel, where is she?” Katrina said. Leaning over to the slumbering lump of blackness sitting at the foot of her bed, she intoned, “Crescent?”

The Umbreon opened one eye.

“<No idea. Haven’t seen much of her since we got here,>” he said much too nonchalantly. “<I’m not worried. She’s tough. She can take care of herself.>”

Crescent rose to his feet and slunk through the cracked doorway as the others watched in silence.

“Something’s wrong,” Katrina commented. “Really wrong.”

“Hm?” Travis uttered in a nonplussed manner.

“The last two years, they’ve been almost inseparable, haven’t they?” Katrina remarked. “Doesn’t it seem strange to you that they’ve hardly said a word to each other in days?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Travis muttered. “You’re right – that is weird.”

The rumble of thunder vibrated against the walls of the small room as the lights flickered again.

“Sure hope this blows over before the festival starts,” Shiro said distractedly, eliciting a rather nervous-sounding response from Madeline.

“Yeah, you’d think,” she said. “If it keeps raining for five whole days at this rate…we’ll all be underwater.”

“That’s true…” Shiro said, cupping his chin with two fingers as his mind gave pause to that fact.

“What do you mean, there aren’t any more beds?” a shout carried into the room from outside. It was met by a rather harried-sounding voice that seemed to be trying to explain something.

“We just had a group of four walk in – I’m sorry. Now, you’re welcome to stay here, but I can’t promise that the conditions will be as comfortable…”

“Damned if I have to go out there again,” the boyish voice seemed to have calmed down. “Beautiful.”

“That voice sounds familiar,” Madeline commented.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Shiro said, suddenly tearing for the door with Madeline not far behind. Travis and Katrina looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders in tandem, and walked out after them.


“Madeline? Shiro?” the boy’s voice seemed to carry excitement laced with a bit of surprise. Travis and Katrina emerged from the door and, to their great shock, saw a familiar face. This face was a very bronzed complexion from exposure to sunlight, belonging to a boy of about fifteen or so whose head and upper neck were covered by messy, flaxen curls going in every which direction. They seemed to be stuck to his neck and forehead, darkened and weighted down by rainwater.

“Brad?” Madeline exclaimed. “Oh, my gosh! What are you doing here?”

“Me?” Brad Carmichael asked, standing. “I could ask you that same question.”

“We’re just passing through with a couple of friends,” Shiro asked.

“Really? No league competition?” Brad asked.

“Nope, not this year,” Madeline replied, shaking her head. At that moment, Travis and Katrina stepped into Brad’s view.

“You guys, too?” Brad laughed. “Man, the surprises just don’t stop, do they? I haven’t seen you guys since Dewford. Looks like you’re doing pretty well for yourselves.”

“I guess so…five badges,” Travis replied.

“At least you got outta Mauville before things got really ugly,” Brad remarked. “I tell you, it’s a mess. Troops assembling…security jacked up to ridiculous levels in Mauville and Petalburg. The Empire’s scared out of its mind of these ‘rebels’, obviously. A civil war right during the journey season…talk about piss-poor timing.”

Travis raised an eyebrow.

“So, you’d rather the Imperials win?” Travis asked.

“Imperials? Hell, no,” Brad shrugged his shoulders. “There’s no place for an Empire nowadays. That’s ancient **** – like, history class ancient. But…whatever, that’s another conversation. In any case, the rebels brought down that outpost the Imperials set up outside of Rustboro…that’s the last thing I heard.”

“Yeah, same here…” Travis said pensively. “So…what are we going to do?”

“Hm?” Brad looked up.

“Well, there are five of us and four beds,” Travis explained. “So, someone’s gonna have to sleep out here.”

“Not necessarily,” Katrina said, latching onto Travis’ arm. “Two of us could, you know…share.”

“Er…what? That’d be…kind of awkward…” Travis uttered, his face a bit pink out of shock at Katrina’s risqué-sounding suggestion.

“Well, there are curtains on the beds…” Shiro said offhandedly, believing that his comment was harmless. However, a smack to the head from Madeline showed him just how wrong he was.

“Thanks – you just made it a hell of a lot more awkward,” she commented while she was doing this.

“Ow!” Shiro grabbed the back of his head, one eye closed in a pained squint. “Shit…”

Brad laughed. “Whatever. I can’t kick you guys out of the room. You got here first. So I’ll sleep out here – just one condition, though…”

“Condition?” Travis repeated in surprise.

“Simple. As soon as tomorrow morning rolls around, we battle,” Brad said. “I’ve got some new Pokémon I want to test out.”

“Actually, that sounds like an idea,” Travis replied. “You’ve got a deal.”



So, with the rain refusing to stop completely for several hours (although it did let up at times), the five teenagers spent their times talking about their respective journeys. Well, actually, Travis and Katrina did most of the listening, whilst Shiro, Madeline, and Brad did most of the talking. There was no need to burden them about the details…of what would lie ahead, of what Travis would soon have to do. As Brad described his journey, he had won even more hearts along the way than he had badges. It was during this conversation that Travis had to mentally remind himself that he was an exception rather than a rule. Most people – at least, where he came from – weren’t ready to commit to a relationship until nearly twenty or so…because it usually takes that long to find that special someone. Travis, in contrast…obviously, he didn’t know this at the time, but…

He had found his when he was six.

He reflected on all this as he watched the rain fall in sheets against the window. It was only in the last year or two that he had begun to see the true meaning of being ‘extraordinary’. Being ‘extraordinary’ was both a gift and a curse. There were few that would ever endure what he had to endure…but there were few that would ever be blessed with the love that he had received.

“Can’t sleep?” Travis smiled to himself. It was almost like she could tell that he was thinking of her. He looked over his shoulder and saw her, her pink hair falling in a sheet down to the middle of her back.

“I don’t want to,” he said with a wry smile. “I might actually wake up…then you won’t be here anymore.”

Katrina rolled her eyes.

“It’s a good thing you don’t really need pick-up lines to make a girl smile like Brad does,” she laughed, walking up to him and taking his hand. “Yours are terrible.”

“It’s not my fault you won’t make me work for it,” he retorted in a whisper.

“That’d just waste everybody’s time,” she whispered, drawing herself within inches of him. Her lips curled upward as her nose brushed against his. He slid his hands around her back and brought her to him.

“You’re not still worried about me, are you?” Travis asked.

“Are you kidding? Of course, I do – it’s my job, isn’t it?” Katrina asked.

“That depends,” Travis replied.

“Depends…on what?” Katrina replied, looking up at him. Travis was silent for a moment.

“Never mind,” he said.

“So…?” Katrina drew her face very close to his again, so he could feel the breath of every syllable she spoke. “It’s not like you to keep something from me. What’s the secret?”

“I wouldn’t call it a secret,” Travis commented. “A secret’s something that I’d never tell you. This is different. I’m going to tell you…but not right now.”

“That’s not a very good answer,” Katrina answered. “Can you at least give me a clue?”

“Fine, you win,” Travis sighed. He closed the minimal distance between their mouths and kissed her. She looked back at him with the most befuddled expression on her face. Suddenly, she felt herself being lifted off her feet. She resisted the urge to scream as this took place without her really expecting it. She was being borne through the air – finally, to her bed, where he laid her down calmly.

“What kind of clue was that?” Katrina asked.

“A really good one, if you think long and hard about it,” Travis replied as he knelt down and ran a finger through the few strands of hair that he could reach with her on the bed, kissing her on the lips afterwards. With that, he made his way back to his own bed and rolled into it. They looked straight at each other.

“Get a good sleep – you’ve got a battle to win tomorrow,” Katrina said. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Travis responded with a smile.


Crescent stood at the very pinnacle of the tower, staring through the domed glass ceiling of the observatory. The room was empty, as the vast majority of the meteorologists that worked in here had retired for the night. Standing – or, rather, floating – in their stead, were several blobs that appeared to be living raindrops sitting atop tiny storm clouds.

“<Current weather: thunderstorms…>” one sang.

“<Total rainfall…one-and-a-quarter inches…>” another chimed.

“<Rain expected through tomorrow morning,>” both intoned in stereo.

“<Yeah, yeah, you’ve told me already,>” Crescent grunted, rolling his eyes. “<A hundred times. Now go away so I can think.>”

“<Tomorrow’s weather: showers early…>” a third Castform announced.

“<Partly sunny and humid in the afternoon,>” a fourth sang.

“<Expected high temperature – eighty-two degrees…>” a fifth said.

“<I know that!>” Crescent snapped at one of the Castform. “<Shut it!>”

“<Bullying defenseless Castform? Is that what you’ve reduced yourself to?>” Crescent didn’t need to turn around to see who the voice belonged to. Behind him, a lavender form sidled up a flight of stairs, leaping to the top. There was a long, tense silence.

“<…I can’t do this anymore, Angel,>” Crescent said. “<I can’t keep lying to myself.>”

“<What do you mean by that?>” Angel asked.

Crescent turned around and approached Angel. She stood rooted to the spot as he stepped closer and closer…and then lowered his nose…

…onto hers.

“<You’ve always been strong, Angel,>” Crescent said to her, piercing her to her very heart with those blood red eyes. “<Even back then. Anybody less than you…>”

“<No…no, you’ve got it all wrong,>” Angel said, her voice shuddering. “<It was only because you were there.>”

“<Me?>” Crescent repeated, closing his eyes. “<No. I’ve got nothing. You’re the one that saved me. I know that now.>”

“<That’s not true…>” Angel whispered.

“<STOP!>” Crescent shouted, walking away from her. “<Stop lying to me!!>”

“<Crescent, please!!>” Angel shouted, walking toward him.

“<What do you want?!>” Crescent spat. “<What the hell do you want, Angel?!>”

“<I want the old Crescent back,>” Angel said, not in her normal, bold, commanding voice, but in a voice so small and plaintive that it was heartbreaking. She sounded for a moment like the small, young Eevee shrinking in fear from the thunder. “<The one I fell in love with.>”

She ran up to Crescent and nuzzled against him.

“<I want the old Angel back,>” Crescent sighed sadly. “<But, that isn’t going to happen…you’ve grown up so much, Angel. You’re stronger, more beautiful…>”

Angel looked up at him. As much as she had been willing herself not to cry, suddenly that will broke; tears came from her eyes not in drops, but in great streams that ran around her face to her chin and began to pool on the ground.

“<…You don’t even need me anymore.>” Crescent finished.

“<Wh-what are you talking about?>” Angel sobbed. “<Of course I need you! But not like this!!>”

“<Exactly!>” Crescent shouted. “<You don’t need me like this. You need me to be better…so you can at least see me as an equal. That’s the best I can hope for, I guess. It’s not like you’ve ever needed me to protect you.>”

“<You weren’t supposed to protect me!>” Angel cried. “<You were supposed to protect us!>”

“<And a damn good job I did of it, too!>” Crescent shouted sarcastically, losing his temper. Angel fell to silence, the tears still running down her face at a steady rate as she tried to catch her breath.

“<Where would I be able to find anyone better?>” Angel asked. “<I…I love you.>”

“<I love you too, Angel. That’s why…have to do this,>” Crescent said. “<I just don’t feel right about this anymore. If we’re going to be together, I want to be worthy of you…and I’m not. So…for right now…>”

“<Please don’t do this…>” Angel whispered. “<Crescent…>”

“<…Goodbye,>” Crescent finished, walking past her and leaping down the flight of stairs. Angel was left staring through the glass dome as rain continued to pelt the windows. Her sobs became wails as she collapsed into a heap of hysterics. The few creatures awake to hear her neither could nor would offer any comfort…

“<Current weather: thunderstorms…>”

July 11, PA 2013 – Hoenn Meteorological Tower

The rain had tapered off by mid-morning, leaving a clearing sky and mild temperatures. Perhaps the only indictment against the morning’s weather was the near-extreme humidity that had come as a result of the area itself (which favored more tropical weather) as well as yesterday’s rains. Nonetheless, Travis and Brad stood outside, prepared for battle, with Shiro, Madeline, and Katrina looking on. Crescent sat at Katrina’s ankles, not saying much of anything. Angel, on the other hand, seemed not at all herself. She would not look at Crescent, or anyone else, for that matter. In fact, it was hard to get her to look anywhere else except for the ground.

“How many Pokémon do you want us to use?” Travis asked Brad.

“How many do you have?” Brad asked in response. Travis went back to think for a moment. Champ, Raiden, Meru, and (as unsure as he was about using her in a battle) Angel. That made…

“Four,” Travis replied.

“Okay…four-on-four sound good to you?” Brad asked.

Travis thought for a moment. He supposed that this was the perfect time to get everyone in his team some battle experience.

“Yeah – four-on-four works,” Travis said. Brad pulled a Pokéball from somewhere behind him. Likewise, Travis had one at the ready.

“You won’t beat me like you did the first time,” Brad called, enlarging his ball to the required throwing size.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Travis replied, enlarging his own ball.

Meanwhile, Katrina looked on worriedly. She couldn’t tell him – he wouldn’t have understood what she meant…but she could tell by observation. If this battle, like so many others before it, was to be decided by Angel’s performance toward the end…

Travis would lose.

Meanwhile, at the Romero Mansion…

One of fifty infantrymen crossed Captain Hadley’s line of sight, saluting sloppily as the latter shouted. “Come on – you’re already late! We’ve got no time to lose! Get in line!!”

“Yes, sir!” the soldier said hurriedly, falling into line with the others. Meanwhile, a black-haired young man approached him.

“That was the last guy. We’ve got everbody,” he said to Sheridan.

“Good,” Sheridan replied. He turned around to address the soldiers, when suddenly…

“Heh…you’re not gonna start the party without us, are ya?” a lazy voice managed to drawl over the quieting soldiers, who turned this way and that looking for its origin. Sheridan looked out of the corner of his eye and witnessed a group of three approaching him. In the center was the grungy man with the forest-green hair – Orda. Flanking him were two orange-haired youths that could have passed for twins. One was a young man that might have been Sheridan’s age, if not a couple of years older…but no older than twenty, that was for sure. And the other…

“Orda? What are you doing here?” Sheridan asked loudly.

“Didn’t you listen to me at all the other day? We’re coming with you,” Jillian replied, smiling one of her adorable smiles at Sheridan.

“Oh…huh?” Sheridan stammered. “Yeah…”

“Well, make your speech so we can get going,” Orda drawled, passing in front of Sheridan along with Jillian. Talan was the last to go by. He locked eyes with Sheridan for several moments – moments that were, for some reason, very tense – and followed the others.

Sheridan always had a good gut feeling of when someone didn’t like him very much. It seemed that Talan was one of those people.

No matter. There was work to be done.

“I’ll explain this to you quickly,” Sheridan announced. “Even in the best of times, Verdanturf is vulnerable. They keep just enough defenses around themselves to be able to survive everyday life. There is hardly anything of strategic interest to either side. Why does Edgar want to retake the town, then? Let me tell you. Like a schoolyard bully, he thinks that a level of power is proven by how many he can subjugate and bend to his will. Why do we want to keep Verdanturf?”

“Actually, that’s a good question,” Orda muttered under his breath.

“Shut up!” Jillian elbowed him in the ribs, causing the slovenly blacksmith to cough.

“What’s wrong with you??” Orda grunted. Jillian folded her arms and kept her eyes fixed on Sheridan.

“It’s a matter of principle,” Sheridan explained. “Verdanturf is a peace-loving town. Right now, they can’t fight for themselves. They’re depending on us to defend them. Nobody deserves the kind of treatment Edgar has been giving the people of Hoenn – least of all them. So, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to march to Verdanturf. We’re going to guard that town…and if an Imperial soldier so much as steps one foot inside the gates…”

Sheridan drew his sword.

“We will drive them back…with steel and courage!” Sheridan exclaimed, a glint seizing his green eyes. “Those are your orders. Do you understand?!”

“Yes, sir!!” a chorus of fifty men and Jillian shouted back to him. Sheridan nodded.

“Let’s go.”
-----------

Sigh...somehow, that was a hard chapter to write.

Anyway, I'm officially on summer vacation, so keep your eyes peeled because I'll probably start churning them out once a week.

That's all for now. Well, actually not...

[xXPorygonXx]

Heh, again I have bested Air Dragon.

A chapter with a Pokemon battle? Oh noes! Honestly, it was a nice reprieve from the sword fights. Not saying that they're bad or anything, it's just nice to see Travis take command in a different way.

Plot wise; nothing that furthers Travis's journey. The scene with the Emerald Knights did intigue me though, it shows not everyone is fighting for the right reasons. And I suspect Crescant and Angel's breaking up will have some major affect on Travis aand Katrina.

Overall it was an excellant chapter, as usual.