"What?!"
Petrel's pupils tightened. He hastily pulled the rest of his Weezing into a shield wall to block Annihilape's sudden charge.
"Wee—zing!"
Several Weezing drifted into a barrier, purple light flashing across their hides as they belched a thick toxic fog.
Propped against the wall, Petrel pressed a button, a cruel smile cutting across his face. "All of you—die!"
Everyone except Grey went pale; panic rippled visibly through the trainers.
"Don't be afraid. Drop the other Rocket grunts first."
Grey's reminder rang clear in every mind.
They froze—then realized the explosions they feared… never came!
"H—how is that possible?!"
Petrel stabbed the button a few more times. Still nothing.
On the holoscreen, a chubby Gengar poked its head into frame.
Spotting the camera, it waggled a hand and gave a few cackles.
"???"
Petrel's plan, in a word, was wrecked.
"Hello—can you hear me?" came a mature woman's voice from the live feed.
The sound made Petrel flinch.
He stared at the projection—
Sometime during the chaos, the room had been sheeted in heavy frost.
A refined, red-haired woman stepped in, composed as ever. She looked into the camera and smiled.
"Lorelei of Ice?!"
Of all things, Petrel hadn't imagined the League would field an Elite Four member just to bag him.
Kanto's Elite Four needed no introduction; their names alone made villain teams blanch.
Any one of them could bang heads with a Champion from another region.
With Lorelei on-screen, the trainers around Grey finally let out the breaths they'd been holding.
"It's Elite Four Lorelei—we're saved!"
If it were anyone else, they might still worry.
But Lorelei?
Even if the ship blew, she could freeze a runway across the sea in an instant.
Security washed over them; more than a few eyes grew wet.
"Mr. Petrel, please surrender," Grey said as he closed the distance.
Annihilape had flattened every Weezing in the room. Petrel had nothing left at his belt.
He knelt there clutching his chest, a lamb ready for the knife.
"I surrender…"
Hands raised, he was a white flag short. "Never thought I'd eat dirt like this. Grey—you win."
"Still putting on a show at a time like this?" Grey's eyes shifted past Petrel to a 'sailor' standing behind him.
The man had a Poké Ball pinched in his fingers, coiled to spring.
"?"
The 'sailor' stepped back, eyes narrowing. "How did you know?"
"Lucky me—I've got a little sister who's a disguise artist," Grey said, advancing. "Using Ditto to mask up is convenient—but don't forget its glaring tell."
As he spoke, Annihilape planted itself in front of Grey, ready for a cheap shot from Petrel at any instant.
"Heh. I lost, badly, this time. Next we meet—let's really talk," Petrel said—and snapped his wrist.
An Ultra Ball split the air and popped in a flash.
"Wee—zing!"
Another Weezing—this one level 60.
Elite class.
"No need to be uncivilized. We're all sensible men here," the real Petrel said, stripping off the last layer of disguise. He rubbed his hands together, smile bright as ever.
Two Pokémon faced off. For a beat, neither side moved.
"Unlucky for you—we stand on different sides," Grey said, meeting Petrel's eyes. "Today, you and I settle this. One of us walks away."
"Bre—loom!"
Breloom crouched to leap—only for Grey to cut it off.
"Breloom, use Bullet Seed—on Annihilape."
"?"
Not only Petrel—even Ash and Gary went wide-eyed.
Why would Grey order that?
"Bre—loom?" (Huh?)
Breloom turned.
One look at Grey's unblinking gaze was enough; it spat a staccato stream of energy seeds.
Rat-tat-tat!
A hail of seeds streaked like bullets, peppering Annihilape with sprays of green light as they burst.
Annihilape gave itself a shake—hardly worse for wear.
At most, enough to crack a Focus Sash.
"Honestly, I'm starting not to understand you…"
Petrel frowned.
He'd been mapping out the cleanest escape route—until Grey's play scrambled the board.
It felt like cutting off his own arm at move one.
"Annihilape—Rage Fist."
Grey's voice fell soft.
"Annih—!"
Annihilape's shaggy coat flared; its blood-red eyes fixed on Weezing. Both fists swung—and two baleful, ghostly fist-shadows ripped free!
Fwoom! Fwoom!!
Twin shockwaves boomed. This Rage Fist wasn't the same move as before—
It was much worse.
"Impossible—this power?!" Petrel threw himself aside and snapped a command. "Weezing, Gunk Shot!"
Gunk Shot—the Poison powerhouse on the physical side.
League book power: 120, with a chance to poison.
This Weezing wasn't just high-level; its coverage ran deeper than the earlier swarm's.
Boom—boom!
Poison energy surged; heaps of trash condensed into a single reeking mass that Weezing hurled into the path of Rage Fist.
The stench hit like a wall, thick enough to see as it rolled.
Rage Fist smashed into the garbage ball; the pressure wave kicked the fumes outward in a rush.
"Urgh—"
In a blink, friend and foe alike almost keeled from the stink.
Grey covered his mouth and nose and snapped to Blaziken at his side: "Flamethrower—on him!"
Blaziken's gaze hardened; in the same breath a white-hot column shot from its beak, streaking at Petrel as he tried to bolt.
Against the violet haze, that lance of flame was impossible to miss.
Heat licked Petrel's skin; his eyes went cold.
Grey was throwing kill shots—no intention of letting him go.
"You forced this!"
He yanked another Ultra Ball from his belt. A second level-60 answered with a wet thud—Muk.
With Muk in play, the S.S. Anne faced a crisis worse than sinking—
A hull can go under and people still ride Flying- or Water-types to safety.
Muk's stench, on the other hand, was ruin.
"Muuuk—"
Muk reared; jets of poison spattered from its body, walling off the Flamethrower.
Grey's brow creased.
Two sixties. That… was going to be rough.
But—
Not impossible.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 20 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810