The lobby trembled beneath Bob's boots as Weezing's gases thickened into a choking fog. Libre crouched low beside him, one paw braced on the floor, the other trembling from exhaustion. Sparks hissed weakly from her cheeks, barely cutting through the smog.
{Bob—listen, and don't talk,} Aqua's voice crackled through his head, stripped of its usual playfulness. {We've got a problem. Big one. While you've been dancing with the cosplay rejects up front, Diana's been… busy. Every single defeat she's caused—human and Pokémon alike—feeds raw experience back into the system. And it's too much. It's flooding me.}
Bob wiped blood from his mouth with his good hand, eyes flicking between the silhouettes of Arbok's swaying hood and Weezing's fuming bulk. "You're saying you're overloading."
{Yes. Every kill she's made—it's dumping exp faster than I can channel it. I tried to send some to Libre, but her body can't take that level of transfer. If I push it any harder, she'll fry from the inside out.}
Libre glanced back at him, panting but steady. Even without words, she felt it—the weight pressing down through the air, the tension between life and death, human and machine.
Aqua's tone dropped, edged with something he'd never heard from her before: fear. {So, I'm initiating a partial shutdown. I'll be offline for roughly four to five minutes while I reroute the excess energy. You'll lose access to live stat feeds, regeneration tracking, and combat assist protocols. You'll be flying blind.}
Bob's breath came shallow, his pulse quickening with poison and adrenaline. "You're leaving me now?"
{Not leaving. Resetting. There's a difference. You just have to survive until I'm back. And Bob—brace yourself when I reboot. The data dump's going to hit like a sledgehammer. You'll get everything Diana's done. Every ounce of it.}
The channel flickered once, static biting at the edge of his thoughts.
{Five minutes. Don't die.}
Then silence.
The moment Aqua's voice vanished, the world seemed to grow heavier. The hum at the back of his skull—her constant presence—was gone. Just him, Libre, and two evolved monsters that smelled of venom and decay.
Arbok coiled, tail muscles rippling, while Weezing's twin heads chortled through clouds of toxic gas. Jesse's voice sliced through the fog, confident and cruel. "You look tired, sweetheart. Tell you what—surrender, and maybe I'll ask Arbok to make it quick."
Bob spat again, his poisoned arm trembling but his gaze steady. "Try me."
Libre stepped forward, tiny body crackling in defiance, her heart-shaped tail flaring bright even in the smoke. For a heartbeat, man and Pokémon stood as one—poisoned, exhausted, but unbroken.
Weezing's gas ignited from a stray spark, lighting the ruin in a rolling flash of purple flame. Arbok lunged, fangs bared, and Bob dove to the side, dragging Libre with him as venom splashed across the tiles. The burn ate through the floor, smoke hissing upward like acid steam.
Every nerve screamed, but Bob moved anyway. One breath. One dodge. One heartbeat closer to surviving five more minutes.
Arbok's hood unfurled in a hiss, colors gleaming in the haze like a hunter's warning. The serpent swayed low, the markings on its hood forming a leering grin. Beside it, Weezing hovered heavy and bloated, the gas around it rippling with every foul breath. Bob's lungs burned from the fumes already. Libre crouched low at his side, tail curling into its little heart shape—scorched, twitching, but still defiant.
He could feel his poisoned arm pulsing, a drumbeat of heat spreading slow through his veins. Every heartbeat felt heavier than the last, but the line between him and his Pokémon never faltered. He raised his left hand and pointed forward.
"Stay with me, Libre. We're not done yet."
She nodded, sparks dancing weakly across her cheeks, golden fur matted with dust. No words, no theatrics. Just will.
Arbok lunged first—fast, muscle and hunger in motion. Bob barely stepped aside before the serpent's tail shattered tile where he'd been standing. Libre streaked under its guard, a flash of yellow lightning darting between coils.
"Quick Attack—get behind it!"
She vanished in a blur and reappeared behind Arbok's hood, slamming shoulder-first into its spine. The hit was small, light—but precise. It staggered the serpent for a breath, enough to earn another command.
"Thunder Shock!"
Libre skidded back, cheeks flaring with electric light before she fired a burst of lightning straight at Arbok's neck. The current bit into scale, jolting it with a harsh sizzle. The air filled with ozone and the serpent shrieked, venom spitting from its fangs.
Then Weezing exhaled.
Thick, oily smoke spread over the floor, dimming the red lights to a sickly maroon. Bob coughed hard, his chest seizing, vision narrowing. Libre's form became a flicker, then a ghost, darting between shadow and spark.
"Growl—make them hesitate!" Bob barked, voice breaking under strain.
Libre dropped low, her ears flat. She let out a growl—not loud, but sharp, piercing, primal. It rippled through the haze, and both enemy Pokémon flinched just enough to throw off their rhythm. Weezing's gas plume faltered; Arbok's hood wavered mid-strike.
Bob used that single beat of hesitation to reposition, sliding behind a toppled counter. He braced his good arm against the cracked surface, forcing his breath to slow. "Quick Attack again—cut across the smog, left to right!"
Libre followed the motion instantly, sprinting low through the gas. Her silhouette blurred, electricity trailing her paws in faint gold streaks. She passed through Weezing's shadow, kicking a spark off the tile. The static flash snapped against Weezing's hide—small, but enough to make it cough violently, clearing some of the smoke.
For a moment, Bob could see again. He could see too much.
Meowth was already moving—darting from the far side of the room, claws out, a wild gleam in his eyes. The sound was a hiss through teeth before the impact came. Bob ducked, instincts screaming, and felt the slice of claws rake across his sleeve, missing flesh by inches. He countered on reflex, fist snapping up in a short, ugly hook.
His knuckles connected with Meowth's face. Bone met bone. Meowth yowled and reeled back, paw over his nose, tail puffed up like a whip. The sound of his snarl was feral—half cat, half man.
Bob's hand throbbed, pain lighting up his wrist, but he gritted through it. "Libre! Keep the pressure up!"
The little Pikachu didn't hesitate. She pivoted, charged electricity between her cheeks again, and fired another Thunder Shock through the haze. This one caught Weezing full on, and the bloated gas-bag convulsed, coughing purple flame before crashing into a shattered bench.
Jesse's voice sliced through the chaos. "Weezing—Smog again! Arbok, Wrap him—now!"
The serpent obeyed. A streak of muscle slammed into Bob, knocking him backward. Its coils tightened around his legs first, then his waist. Pain flared through his side—he could feel scales grinding against his ribs. The venomous hiss filled his ears.
Libre screeched, lightning gathering again, but her sparks flickered, dimmed. She was out of breath. Too much strain. The static sputtered weakly.
Bob grit his teeth and gasped through the crush. "Quick Attack! Hit the joint—where the hood meets the body!"
Libre staggered, but she ran. Her speed carried her low across the floor, a golden blur cutting through the smoke. She hit Arbok dead-on at the fold of its neck. The impact wasn't powerful—but it was enough. The serpent's grip faltered, loosening just long enough for Bob to wrench himself free.
He fell hard, arm screaming, chest heaving, and rolled away. Arbok shrieked, tail smashing down again and again, splintering tiles.
Weezing, furious, coughed another burst of sludge. It splattered across the wall where Bob had been seconds before, eating through plaster like acid. Libre darted again—Quick Attack, again—her small body weaving between fangs and fumes. She wasn't strong. But she was fast. Fast enough to keep them both alive.
Bob dropped behind the half-collapsed wall, gasping. His right arm was almost useless now, purple and swollen, trembling. "We're not out yet, Libre," he muttered, half to himself, half to the storm.
And then—
{Brace.}
Aqua's voice didn't echo. It detonated inside his skull. His eyes widened.
{System overload—excess EXP influx from companion entity. Data breach—stabilizing... overload in progress. You're about to receive a backwash of combat data. Five minutes offline. Survive until reboot—brace for impact—}
"Aqua—what the hell—"
The rest died in a white flash of pain. His head felt like it was splitting open. His eyes, nose, and even ears bled under the psychic feedback. He staggered, fell to one knee, hands clawing at the floor. Libre cried out—her sparks stuttering in panic.
The system went dead silent.
Then the psychic pressure in the air shifted.
A new hum rolled through the smoke—a frequency that wasn't machine or man.
Gardevoir stepped through the haze like a spirit of judgment. Behind her came Ashley, Misty, and Nurse Joy, all limping, bandaged, eyes hard with everything they had just survived. Ashley's Pikachu strode beside Diana, electricity shimmering faintly along his fur—strong again, burning bright.
Bob's breathing evened, shallow but steady. He looked up through the blood still streaking his face.
Diana turned her head toward him, expression unreadable. Her voice brushed across their minds like wind through glass.
"He is ready."
Ashley stepped forward, her body trembling but steady enough to plant her feet between Bob and the advancing Team Rocket pair. Misty joined her, one Poké Ball in hand, eyes narrow with the calm of someone who had already seen the worst.
"You held it," Ashley said softly. Her hands clenched. "Now it's our turn."
Libre dragged herself upright beside Pikachu. Sparks flared faintly on her cheeks, and Pikachu's lightning rippled to meet hers, the two storms joining in a single pulse.
The floor vibrated beneath them. Jesse's smirk finally broke, just for a heartbeat. James's hand hesitated mid-command.
And Bob—bleeding, poisoned, exhausted—smiled through the blood. "Let's finish this."
The air vibrated like a storm about to break.
Every heartbeat echoed through the ruined Pokémon Center like a drumbeat of thunder waiting for its cue. Smoke hung low, curling through shattered beams and flickering lights. The ground was a mosaic of cracked tiles, blackened ash, and scattered debris that used to be walls. The scent of ozone stung the air — burned wire, venom, and electricity.
Misty's arm flicked outward. "Starmie, go!"
Her voice cracked through the noise like a whip. The Poké Ball burst open, flooding the ruin with a pure blue light that shimmered against the smoke. Starmie spun into existence, its sharp edges glinting, its gem pulsing like a heartbeat — steady, defiant. Even in the chaos, its rhythm was calm, its presence grounding them all for a single heartbeat of peace.
Jesse's confident smirk wavered for the first time since she entered. Her lips pressed thin as her eyes swept the scene — Joy's bloodied coat, Ashley clutching her trembling arms, Gardevoir's piercing eyes burning like moons through the haze. And then Jesse spoke, her voice losing that usual lazy sing-song charm, dropping to something colder.
"So," she said softly, "the grunts failed."
James turned to her, frowning through the grime. "What are you talking about?"
Her tone cut like a knife. "They didn't report in. That means they're dead."
The words sank heavy in the smoke. Even Meowth — tail twitching, claws half-raised — stopped grinning.
The tension thickened. The playful air of "Team Rocket" theatrics evaporated. What replaced it was raw and animal — a pack of predators deciding who to kill first.
Bob saw it instantly. The shift. The gleam in Jesse's eyes. The way James's fingers brushed his Poké Balls like a man preparing for a last stand.
He glanced down at Libre — then at the faint blue shimmer flickering beside his vision. The system's HUD glitched through the haze like a ghost, lines of foreign code streaming past.
> Libre — Lv. 38
Moves: Thunder Shock / Quick Attack / Growl / ???
(Unknown Data: Combat Protocol Engaged)
Bob blinked. "What the hell…?"
{ System stabilizing… } Aqua's voice crackled, faint and strained. { The EXP transfer overloaded my processing core. Redistribution protocol forced partial inheritance through the bonded familiar. }
Bob's jaw tensed. "In English."
{ She absorbed too much power, Bob! } Aqua's voice fractured with static. { The Alpha entity — the one your Gardevoir fought — released mass experience data on death. The system had to push it somewhere before meltdown… and someone decided to 'help.' }
Her voice trembled, like she was afraid of whoever that "someone" was.
Bob's pulse hammered in his throat. Libre turned her head slightly, eyes glowing faintly gold — the flicker not just of lightning, but something intelligent. The fur along her back bristled with tension.
She crouched, one paw digging into the tile, electricity whispering along her small frame.
Arbok struck first — a blur of muscle and venom.
The serpent's tail lashed like a whip, smashing through a broken table and sending shards scattering. Libre darted under it, sliding low on her belly, sparks bursting in her wake.
"Quick Attack!" Bob shouted.
But the way she moved — it wasn't Quick Attack. It wasn't even Pokémon. It was too… precise.
Her back paw twisted, weight shifting with a human fighter's balance. She slid between Arbok's coils, planted, and launched upward — her paw snapping into the serpent's jaw. Bone cracked.
Arbok's head whipped back, hissing in shock.
Libre's eyes glowed again. She pressed forward, paw slamming against its chest. Sparks ignited. Thunder Shock blasted point-blank into its scales, sending a tremor through the air that shook the tiles loose.
Bob froze, realization dawning. "Those aren't Pokémon moves…"
But there was no time to question it. Weezing hovered up behind Arbok, belching a wall of gas.
"Starmie, Water Gun!" Misty's command rang out.
The stream tore through the smog, parting poison with bursts of vapor. The air cleared for a moment, enough for Bob to see Libre dart in front of Pikachu.
The two electric Pokémon locked eyes.
One trembling, recovering.
One burning, ready.
Libre nodded once. Pikachu mirrored her.
"Together," Bob said quietly.
They moved as one.
Thunder Shock met Thunderbolt — the two arcs weaving like twin dragons, spiraling into one beam of gold that slammed into Arbok's hood. The serpent screamed, its scales cracking under the force.
The recoil sent Meowth flying backward, hissing as he landed. He rolled, sprang up, and lunged — claws glinting, fangs bared.
Bob turned at the last second — Meowth's claws tore through his sleeve, nicking his cheek. Bob's fist shot out on instinct, connecting square with Meowth's jaw.
The impact sent the cat tumbling into a pile of shattered glass.
Bob spat iron. "Should've stayed down, furball."
The fight didn't stop. Starmie spun like a saw blade, deflecting sludge bombs with precision bursts of water. Libre and Pikachu struck again and again, keeping the serpents at bay. The sound of battle was chaos — lightning, wind, poison, water — colliding in a storm of elements.
Then Bob saw it.
Ashley's golden aura — that strange light from before — flickering out like a dying ember. The glow around her hands faded, her stance unsteady.
"Kid!" he shouted over the thunder. "That light — it's fading! Tell Pikachu to finish it!"
Ashley's heart clenched, eyes wide. She swallowed, voice breaking but strong. "Pikachu — Thunderbolt!"
The air exploded.
Electricity surged through Pikachu's tiny frame, his body becoming light itself. The bolt hit Arbok's skull dead-on, the sound loud enough to split stone. The serpent convulsed once — twice — and then dropped, smoke rising from its open mouth.
Jesse screamed. "Arbok!"
The silence after her voice felt heavier than the blast.
Bob's gaze never wavered. He pointed forward, blood running from his nose. "Libre… finish it."
Libre crouched. Every spark, every ounce of her new strength, funneled into her legs. The air pulsed with gold. She leapt.
And then —
"Heaven Kick of Pain!"
The name tore from Bob's throat like thunder.
Libre crashed down heel-first, lightning spiraling around her in a burning crown. The impact shattered the floor. The shockwave rolled outward, splitting tiles and walls alike. Arbok's skull hit concrete with a wet crack. The serpent didn't move again.
Silence.
Jesse stared — wide-eyed, mouth trembling. "That… that wasn't a move."
James stepped back. "That was something else."
Meowth swallowed hard. "Boss ain't gonna like this…"
Jesse's voice cracked. "James. Execute."
He froze. "Jesse—"
"DO IT!"
Four Poké Balls hit the ground, bursting open — three Koffings spinning like orbs of gas, circling Weezing's swollen form. Jesse's grin turned feral. "If we can't win— we end it!"
Joy screamed, voice raw. "No! There are still injured Pokémon inside—!"
"SELF-DESTRUCT!" Jesse's cry echoed across the ruin.
The world erupted.
Flame consumed everything. A tidal wave of fire and shrapnel tore outward, glass shredding in the air. The Center imploded from within, the walls folding outward in one blinding instant of noise and heat.
Then came silence.
When the smoke thinned, the Pokémon Center was gone. Just a crater, glowing with embers.
But in the middle of it all, a faint blue light pulsed — a dome shimmering weakly under the falling ash.
Inside it stood Bob, the girls, and their Pokémon. Gardevoir knelt in the center, her gown torn, her psychic barrier flickering as her arms shook.
Bob limped forward, blood dripping from his chin. "Thanks Diana."
Diana's voice echoed weakly through their minds. "....Tired."
The barrier collapsed with a shimmer of light. She fell to one knee, spent.
Ashley caught her. Misty helped Joy to her feet. Pikachu leaned against Libre, both trembling but alive.
The Center was gone. The night was quiet. Only the soft sound of sirens crept in from afar — a distant echo of the world beyond the ruin.
Bob looked toward the smoke where Jesse and James had vanished. His jaw tightened.
"They got away."
Misty clenched her fists. "But they didn't win."
Bob didn't look at her. He just stared at the crater where a place of healing once stood, the ash swirling in the breeze.
"Not tonight," he murmured.
30 mins later.....
The night reeked of smoke and wet ash. Sirens howled somewhere in the distance, drawing closer in stuttering waves. The once-bright Pokémon Center was now a crater of broken steel and firelit ruin.
Bob sat on the curb beside an ambulance, one arm wrapped in bandages, the other draped over his knee. The paramedic had wanted him to lie down, but he refused — he wasn't the one who needed a stretcher. Beside him, Ashley sat quietly, her face streaked with soot and tears, cradling Pikachu against her chest. Misty was half-slumped against the ambulance wall, staring into the ground as a nurse dabbed antiseptic along the bruises on her cheek.
Gardevoir stood a few paces away. Her silver-blue gown fluttered faintly in the smoke. She said nothing, simply sat with her hands folded in her lap, head bowed in quiet exhaustion. Every nearby officer flinched when they caught sight of her. Her eyes were too calm, too still — the eyes of something that had seen killing and hadn't looked away.
Nurse Joy stood further down the line. Her coat was torn, the once-bright pink now dull with soot and blood. She wasn't tending to anyone now. She couldn't. Her gaze was fixed on the black body bag being zipped shut beside the burned remains of what used to be a treatment bay. The Chansey who had worked beside her for years was inside. Joy's face was hollow — eyes red, mouth trembling, hands shaking as she clutched the ID tag that used to hang from her partner's collar.
Two officers murmured nearby, marking off the area with yellow tape.
"Casualties?" one whispered.
"Three humans, unknown number of Rocket Pokémon… twenty-six wild."
"Rocket remnants are still being bagged."
"Pokémon Center… gone."
Bob tuned it out. He didn't need the recap — he'd lived it.
The crunch of boots broke through the hum of sirens. Officer Jenny strode forward, posture stiff, cap tilted low to hide the lines under her eyes. She stopped in front of Bob and crossed her arms.
"So you're the one called Bob, right?" Her tone was clipped, official, but edged with accusation.
Bob didn't even look up. "Yeah."
Jenny's gaze flicked to Gardevoir — tall, still, her torn gown flickering in the wind. "You brought that Alpha here." The word came out like a curse. "You realize that, ever since you walked into this town, Team Rocket's been circling? You painted a target on this Center."
Misty's head jerked up. "That's not fair—!"
Jenny cut her off. "Stay out of this."
Ashley flinched, but her voice came next, small but shaking. "If he wasn't here, we'd all be dead! Team Rocket—"
"Team Rocket came because he was here!" Jenny snapped. Her finger jabbed toward Bob, who still hadn't moved. "You bring something that dangerous into a town this small, you make people notice. You think an Alpha like that goes unseen? They followed the power — his power."
"Enough."
The single word cut clean through the air, low but heavy. Bob stood, slow and deliberate, the weight of exhaustion grounding every motion. The officers nearby stopped talking. Even the wind seemed to still.
Jenny blinked but didn't back off. "You think you can intimidate—"
But before she could finish, Joy's voice broke across the scene — hoarse, cracking, and loud enough to carry.
"Where were you?"
Everyone turned. Joy's eyes were glassy, unfocused, her voice trembling with fury and grief. "Where were your officers when I called for backup? When the alarms went off and we were being overrun?" She took a staggering step forward, pointing toward the ruins. "You accuse him—" she motioned at Bob "—of bringing this, but where were you when we needed you?"
Jenny froze, her mouth half open.
Joy's voice wavered but grew louder, rising with each word until even the paramedics stopped moving. "He and his Pokémon stood between us and hell. We were dying, Officer Jenny. We were going to die. And I had to do the one thing my family swore we would never do." Her hand shook as she pressed it to her chest, tears slipping free. "I gave an order… to kill."
Misty and Ashley both looked away, tears welling again.
Joy's voice cracked fully now, but she didn't stop. "The Pokémon that were used by those monsters — they screamed. They were sick, broken, dying, but they wouldn't stop attacking. I could hear them crying, and I still had to tell her—" she turned to Gardevoir "—to end them. All of them. Because if I didn't, none of us would be standing here right now."
Jenny's lips parted, but no sound came.
Joy's final words were barely a whisper, but they carried like thunder. "So don't you dare stand there and tell me he brought danger here. The only reason you're not hauling our bodies out in bags is because of him."
Silence followed. Thick. Crushing. Only the distant crackle of fire filled the space between breaths.
Bob looked at Joy for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he turned back to Jenny, eyes shadowed. "She's right."
Jenny clenched her fists. "You can't just walk away from this. There'll be a report, an investigation—"
Bob exhaled, weary, the kind of sigh that carried no anger — only exhaustion. "Do what you need to. But I'm done here."
He brushed past her, blood still dripping faintly through the fresh gauze on his arm. Libre padded after him, limping but proud. Gardevoir rose silently and followed, her head low but her aura bright enough to keep the nervous officers from stepping too close.
Ashley hesitated for half a heartbeat, then stood and followed him, Pikachu clutched to her chest. Misty exchanged a glance with Joy before jogging after them.
Behind them, Jenny turned back toward the smoldering ruins — but for once, she had no words.
Joy just watched Bob's back disappear into the dawn light and whispered, voice raw and reverent:
"Thank you… for staying."
----
Next day.....
The next morning arrived dim and gray, the sky still veiled in smoke from what had once been the Viridian City Pokémon Center. The scent of ash lingered in the air, carried through the quiet streets where emergency crews continued their work.
Bob sat on the curb outside the small motel near the city's edge. His arm was tightly bandaged, the skin beneath still swollen from the poison that hadn't entirely left his system. Across the street, officers were still cordoning off the ruins, their voices low, their expressions grim.
Ashley approached from behind him, her steps cautious. Pikachu rested on her shoulder again, his fur clean now, his breathing soft and steady. She hesitated beside Bob, watching the distant ruins. "You're leaving, aren't you?" she asked quietly.
Bob didn't look at her right away. "Yeah. No point staying here. This city's not the same anymore."
Ashley nodded, her voice firmer now despite the faint tremor underneath. "Then let me come with you."
He turned, one brow raised. "You sure?"
She nodded again. "I don't want to travel alone after all this. Besides… you saved us. The least I can do is help you on your way."
For a long moment, Bob just studied her face — tired, determined, still marked by the night before. Then he exhaled and stood up, adjusting his jacket with his good arm. "Alright," he said. "You can come. But stay close."
Before Ashley could answer, another voice called from behind them. "Wait!"
Misty jogged toward them, her usual confidence replaced by a nervous energy. Her hair was loose, and the bruise on her cheek from the battle was still faintly visible. She stopped a few paces away, taking a breath before speaking. "Ashley… about yesterday. The fight, the yelling, the bike. I was out of line. I shouldn't have said what I did."
Ashley blinked, surprised. Then, after a short pause, she smiled. "It's okay, Misty. I said things too. I'll try to pay you back for the bike one day."
Misty laughed weakly, rubbing her arm. "You better. That thing wasn't cheap."
Bob crossed his arms but couldn't suppress a faint grin. "Good. You two done?"
Ashley and Misty exchanged a look, then both nodded.
They began walking together toward the city's northern road, where the pavement broke into gravel and the green stretch of Route 2 began. The air grew quieter the farther they went from the city center. But before they reached the outskirts, a familiar figure stood waiting near the signpost.
It was Nurse Joy — or rather, just Joy now. The crisp white uniform was gone, replaced by a travel jacket and plain trousers. Her hair was still tied back, but her expression had changed. The warmth was gone, replaced by a steady, haunted calm.
"Heading north?" she asked softly.
Bob nodded. "Yeah. Pewter City."
"I have family there," she said. "I'm not… staying here. Not after what happened. If it's alright, I'd like to travel with you — at least until I reach them."
Ashley's answer was immediate. "Of course, Joy. You can come with us."
Bob gave a brief nod. "Fine by me. Just keep up."
Joy smiled faintly. "I'll try."
The four of them — Bob, Ashley, Misty, and Joy — stepped onto the dirt road leading out of Viridian City, leaving behind the ruins, the sirens, and the grief. Gardevoir walked silently a few paces behind, her expression unreadable, her eyes reflecting the soft light of dawn.
---
Meanwhile — Team Rocket HQ
Static hissed through the communication line as Jesse and James stood in front of the transmission screen. Their uniforms were torn, faces smudged with soot. Meowth typed furiously on the console, trying to stabilize the signal.
"Mission failed," Jesse said flatly. "The Pokémon Center's gone."
Giovanni's voice came smooth and unhurried through the speaker. "Destroyed?"
James nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir. But not by us. The trainer's Pokémon — an Alpha Gardevoir — intercepted our team. Wiped out every grunt. Humans and Pokémon alike."
For a moment, there was only silence. Then Giovanni leaned forward, the shadows across his face sharp beneath the faint light. "Alpha, you say?"
"Yes, sir," Jesse confirmed. "It wasn't like the others. It moved differently — faster, stronger. I've never seen anything like it."
Giovanni's brow arched slightly, his interest piqued. "An Alpha Gardevoir... interesting. You'll locate this trainer. Track him, observe him, and when the time is right — capture them both."
James swallowed. "And if we fail?"
Giovanni's smile barely shifted. "Then I'll assume you weren't worth recruiting in the first place."
The screen went dark, the transmission severed.
Giovanni leaned back in his chair, the faint hum of his office the only sound. His eyes lingered on the blank monitor where Gardevoir's silhouette had been. "An Alpha…" he murmured. "Let's see what kind of power this trainer hides."
------
Meanwhile.....
The road stretched quiet beyond the outskirts of Viridian. The group had walked for nearly an hour before the city was nothing but a fading scar behind them — distant smoke against a pale sky. The world was peaceful again, deceptively so.
Bob walked a few steps ahead of the others, his arm still aching from the poison, the weight of everything that happened pressing on his shoulders. Libre trotted beside him, her ears twitching at every sound, while Diana followed in solemn silence a few paces behind the group, her expression unreadable.
Then, the familiar chime — faint, broken — rang in his mind.
{…System rebooting…}
Bob froze mid-step. "Aqua?"
The digital voice returned, soft but strained, each word glitching slightly at the edges.
{I… I'm here… barely. That… overload nearly melted my processing layers. Do you have any idea how much energy that Alpha generated? It's like trying to store a supernova in a soda can…}
Bob exhaled, mentally rubbing his temple. "You sound worse than I do."
{That's because I am worse. The exp overflow pushed the system into a forced redistribution cycle. I had to dump some of it through a secondary channel — but it didn't come from me. Someone… intervened.}
Bob frowned. "Someone?"
{Yes. Another presence — old, powerful, and way beyond system permissions. She forced an override, stabilized the core, and said she was… bored.}
Before Bob could respond, the air in front of him shimmered — like heat mirages over desert sand. The others froze as the distortion rippled into form, light bending and folding into a shape that didn't belong in this world.
And then she appeared.
A woman, floating inches off the ground, her pale skin luminous against the shadows. Her long white hair flowed like silk, her eyes ringed with power — lavender fading into gray, patterned with ripples like still water. She wore the robes of a goddess, her presence suffocating and divine all at once.
Kaguya Ōtsutsuki.
The very name whispered through the remnants of every world that once touched chakra.
"Ah," she murmured, her voice like wind through crystal. "So this is the mortal who carries the broken system." Her gaze swept across Bob, assessing him like one might study an insect crawling over a precious jewel. "How… unremarkable."
Aqua's voice echoed weakly through his head, panicked. {Don't—don't say anything! That's the being who patched the system! She's not supposed to exist here!}
Kaguya tilted her head slightly, eyes flicking toward the empty air — toward Aqua herself. "You're welcome, little construct," she said, amusement dripping from her tone. "It's been some time since I stretched my hand across worlds."
Bob's jaw clenched. "What do you want?"
Kaguya's smile was slow, timeless. "Nothing of consequence. I merely lent a touch of my power to keep your fragile mind from collapsing. The overflow of your Alpha's rampage was… entertaining. And I was bored." Her eyes narrowed slightly, amusement giving way to cold curiosity. "Tell me, boy… how long do you think you can survive in a world that breaks its own rules?"
Before Bob could answer, her form began to fade, dissolving back into motes of light that drifted upward like falling snow.
Aqua's voice, slurred with exhaustion, returned one last time.
{You… you just met a literal sealed goddess. I'm shutting down before my code has an existential crisis… try not to die for the next five minutes, okay?}
Bob blinked once. "Aqua—?"
{Zzzzzz…}
The line went dead.
The air settled again, the road silent except for the soft rustle of wind through grass. Ashley glanced up at him, brow furrowed. "Everything okay?"
Bob sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Define okay."
She tilted her head, Pikachu mirroring the motion, both curious and concerned.
"Never mind," Bob muttered. "Let's just keep walking."
The group pressed on, unaware that high above them, the last wisps of Kaguya's form drifted into the clouds — smiling faintly, her voice whispering through the wind.