Pokémon 1. Cipher's Weapon

**Thanks for all the support you've guys have provided me through the years. This is the third attempt at the story that first brought me to Fanfiction. A Soul Adventure, all those years back, was a means for me to learn to be a better writer, I never thought it would come this far; last year I started my first major writing project and reached the point of having written over 50,000 words among all my stories. While this is not the greatest I could or can do, it was a milestone. Now that I've reached this point, I'm going to take a step back and try to build up for the next milestone. By the end of spring, I believe that I will have exceeded 100,000 words and I will have exceeded 10 stories. Thank you for sticking by me this far, so thanks guys. I now present first part of the rewritten, Going Further, enjoy.**

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_Welcome to RiptideZ's "Going Further," a non-profit fan-produced fiction product under the ownership of set penname: RiptideZ._

_DISCLAIMER:_

_All copyrighted items mentioned or used in this work belongs to their rightful owners at the Pokémon Company, Game Freak, Nintendo, and other brands mentioned below or later under terms of Fair Use. The author only owns their own creations. This author is an adamant supporter of Constructive Criticism, please read and review, be mindful however, this author will delete your comment if it is considered of ill-intent or overstated such as being already stated more than a few times. If anything is wrong with the writing piece, contact RiptideZ through the Review section, or Instant Messaging."_

_…_

_Chapter 1: Cipher's Weapon_

_Words: 3328_

_Franchise: Pokémon_

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**[Team Rocket]**

**[Rocket Boss, Identity Unknown]**

**[Syndicate HQ – Game Corner Basement, Celadon City]**

…

Footage on a wall-mounted projector played within the darkened sound-proof office, the structure located within the bunker complex underneath Celadon City, run by the Kanto Rocket Syndicate.

The viewer sitting behind an aged and glossed oak wood desk was masked in the darkness, his silhouette and his suit colored to the blackest night could be seen within the dim light of the monitor. The shadow behind the desk, likely the most powerful individual in Kanto, was an enigma, but even more unknown was the object passing into view on the screen.

A bird's eye view taken from the port-side, extreme weather camera onboard an unmarked, gray L-100 Hercules cargo aircraft, a civilian equivalent of the Unovan-built AC-130H Spectre, a military attack gunship used by the Unova Coast Guard. Its wing tips and large rudders passed lazily through the clouds maintaining its altitude above a fast moving object flying just above the water on the coast of Mainland Kanto.

Currently the object was still 15 minutes out from Southern Kanto, flying past the islands of the Sevii territory, just now passing a large ominous volcano glowing hellish-red in the starry night, Mt. Ember, its smoke bellowing constantly adjourning the dark clouds moving with the buzzing aircraft. The island, referred to as Knot Island, was the closest island settlement to Kanto and considered a popular vacation and tourism spot due to the Phoenix National Park and hosting one of the largest assortments of migrating Pokémon in the region.

The Syndicate had even made a foothold in the local populace with the advent of possibly capturing the rumored and elusive Moltres that called Mt. Ember home. However, all attempts so far have led with nothing but possible evidence to the specimen using the area as a resting ground during the summer months before migrating elsewhere.

However, tonight was not a night guaranteed to the exotic Pokémon or the vacationers that had come to enjoy themselves.

Tonight, a lone comet skipping across the ocean at an estimated 60 knots glowing a ghostly white and its body painted a midnight black. It measured around 35 meters in length and featured a shape matching that of many dragon-like Pokémon. The glow of the light twinkling in the sparkling sea made it difficult to identify the entire object, the only noticeable forms were a domed beak of sorts and a long serpentine tail with two protruding structures much like that of a plane's rear wings. It appeared as if the tail was sparkling as the unnatural light bended against the reflection of the salt water below the object. A scene revealing what appeared almost like magic.

A lone fisherman looking for a late night catch was knocked back by the small tidal wave on his lonely pier as the beast flew by at a streaking speed. The sight was caught on the high-definition speed camera of the Hercules as it flew over, receiving a light chuckle from the enigmatic man watching the monitor.

The glowing light, the unknown creature at its heart, suddenly bounced skyward with a 75-degree assault toward the clouds and reached a nice altitude a little short of the weather plane that followed the object. Either the creature was ignorant, deliberately ignoring the plane, or was simply deaf to the humans currently watching it as it flew onward. A rumbling began to take the camera as the plane was hit with a spontaneous stream of turbulence and the clouds around the glowing light began to dance with a lack of grace. A swirling depression in its infancy.

The camera continued to shake but at the behest of the man within the bunker kilometers away from the plane, switched the view to the four-choice spectrum, revealing the standard full color image, the temperature gradient, energy levels, and the wind measurements colored in a full, cool gray palette. The buildup of energy and its rapid emission was beginning to make the operators of the plane nervous.

"Sir, the target is increasing in power level and its speeds are increasing steadily as we speak. We're experiencing an unknown source of turbulence that we're assuming is originating from the Pokémon, but we can't be sure. I don't know if we'll be able to hold this position for more than 5 minutes before the wind becomes too much for our censors and our engines to handle. Your call, sir."

Essentially the phone operator had stated the obvious, but the Mafia Boss took the advice in stride; the operator was right, now was the time to retreat. He wasn't like the stereotypical Mob Boss, he cared for the men under his command. "Orion, this is Blackbeard, you're clear to pull out. Report back to Vermilion Airport, be vigilant, I expect your operations chief to provide me with all relevant data by the morning."

"Roger, sir, Orion out." The camera automatically switched to replay mode as the plane switched off its recorder and veered off from the target.

The previously dimmed lights in the room switched to half brightness and illuminated the office building with a series of click sounding comparable to a car driving across loose gravel. The man behind the desk was also revealed in his full glory. He wore a business-like suit, black in color, made of expensive leather fashioned in the style of a trench coat. His fedora cap sat unattended on a small rack on the wall behind the man, a small, capital letter R-pendant lay upon the edge of the trench coat's collar; it glared in the light of the hidden lanterns of the underground office.

The tall man held a muscular stature, measuring at 6'03'' and age 42, he was a giant for the average Kanto-born citizen and had the body of a competitive swimmer with wide shoulders and a mostly straight posture. His hair was aged, mostly black, but some notable silvery hair had broken through. His eye sockets featured bags underneath, and his brow featured a three line indention of long stressed, crease marks from continuous frowning, a once youthful face destroyed by the emotional pain of a stolen life.

The room itself wasn't much beyond the required necessities that did little to match the seemingly massive size of the room. A huge wall-mounted monitor stood at the far wall playing the camera data in repeat; the other walls were adjourned with a few trophy cases containing small amounts of gold and other precious metals, along with large bookshelves covered in books. A few filing cabinets containing shipment and operation histories stood in the corner. A pedestal in the middle of the room revealed a group of round spheres, colored in yellow and black against gray separated by an indented equator. Six Ultra Balls, designed to contain a trainer's Pokémon. A few house plants here and there matched the saturated green walls and set the room's serious mood, however the lack of windows created a depressing tone in the office.

A set of double doors marked the entryway leading to the rest of the complex, a set of chairs, six in total sat in front of the Rocket Boss's desk, and sitting in the central chair behind the desk was one middle aged man, a Giovanni Umbers Junior, the de facto leader of the feared Kanto Rocket Syndicate, a corporate mafia dedicated to controlling the Kanto Underworld. However, as his name suggested, Umbers was not the first, his father Giovanni Senior had passed on in '93 from lung cancer and had left the family name to his only son, Giovanni Junior. The senior's previous cause of death was enough for the middle-aged leader to agree never to take a cigar ever again after a few times of using them in his earlier adulthood…long before he ever became the leader of a national crime organization.

"Mr. Giovanni, sir, your son is here to talk to you." The leader's secretary, Ariana, said with a ghostly whisper of interest.

"…Send him in." Giovanni said with a tired sigh.

"Right away, sir… Seth…" Ariana's voice became muffled as she cut off the transmission and ushered the Syndicate Leader's son into the office. The secretary knew well not to disturb the aged man when he was emotionally unstable with his lack of sleep and the amount of stress he put up with, the levels he covered with alcohol and an emotional mask.

The door opened with a squeak and entered a thin, young man with a tall complex measuring at 5'10'', he wore Aviator sunglasses, no matter where he went in public, his business-casual sweat shirt and contractor khakis made him out to appear like a young businessman enjoying the end of a business trip. He held himself in a righteously confident light, each step he took with a certain emphasis as his presence seemed to focus all the light on him as he entered with an effective stride. His name was Cethin Umbers, the eldest son of Giovanni and a free-lance information broker employed mostly to the Rocket organization, his common business name was "Osiris," but he often was called Seth by virtually everyone he knew personally. Much like his father, he held a very direct mindset toward business, when he became set on a goal he didn't wary from his sight. He never lost sight of his path. However, unlike his father, he had yet to see the consequences of his decisions, he so far lived without fear or guilt, almost as pure as a new born child; that is if you could compare a 23 year old hacktivist veteran to that of a creature that didn't even know how to open their eyes.

"Sup, Boss?"

Giovanni chose to ignore the snarky inquiry and eliminate his son's emotional mask.

"Dammit, Seth, I'm your father, not your supervisor. Get your head out of the sand and help me here."

"Sure dad, what do you need?" His mock seriousness all but evaporated.

Giovanni pointed toward the monitor behind the young man revealing the multiple rolls of footage and initial data taken from the flight recorder aboard the Hercules weather plane only minutes earlier.

Seth folded his arms across his chest and put a finger to his chin, "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"We believe it's a Pokémon, want to try and guess which one?" Giovanni stated with a deathly seriousness.

"I don't even recognize it, please; do enlighten me." Seth stated waving his hand.

"I've analyzed the information myself and I believe it's an Orre-based Lugia, one of a herd of 20 or so. We don't know why it's this far from home, but I need to ask you, do you know anything on an organization known as Cipher?"

"Cipher… No, their name has passed my desk several times before, but no, I've never had any contact and I don't have any data on their inner workings. Essentially, if I didn't work for you Dad, you would be as much of a phantom as they are to me now."

"…You don't have a desk…"

"Shut up, you know what I mean!"

"Alright, alright…" Giovanni said tiredly, throwing his arms in the air in mock surrender, "from what I know and the notes a colleague sent me by e-mail, by the way, these files are highly confidential, they're not even within your abilities to get a hold of just yet; mind you—"

"Hey, dad!" Seth said annoyed in his father's admittance of doubting his abilities.

"Let me finish. Okay? Now as I was saying, this data is covered completely in black ink, my friend took a very large risk to pull this file for me uncensored digitally. According to this file and my time spent with the Navy's R&D division, before I joined the Rockets, and before your grandfather passed away, I worked with "Shadow Pokémon," Pokémon totally obedient and more powerful than that of regular specimens, at a cost. Back in the eighties, me and my colleague and several of our coworkers were working on how to breed more obedient Pokémon, but in the process, we learned much about Pokémon physiology, the experimentation found that our project was successful but after six months the drugs given to them would completely eliminate the Pokémon's ability for conscious thought and become brain dead, slowly killing the creature. It was deemed immoral and the blacklist project was formally closed by the government for all time."

"The drug was a neurotoxin found on an island near Orre in the form of berries, the fruits were harvested and turned into a fine powder that was ingested into the Pokémon. Orre is currently the only region where Shadow Pokémon can naturally occur in the wild, however, it seems the data collected from the R&D project was either stolen or independently reproduced. While the practice, has been recorded to have been practiced by many past civilization in Orre's history, this is probably the first that has been done to a "legendary," that's dangerous. I want you to start focusing your searches on this topic, all other issues are secondary. Got it?"

"Yeah, dad, I've got the idea." Seth said with a crisp salute as if he were in the military.

"Good man, take care of Silver, will you? He's been quite a shutout lately with his mother no longer among the land of the living." Both Seth and Giovanni winced at that thought.

"Will you be home tomorrow?" Seth replied in a darker challenge, reminding Giovanni of his own duties as a father, a duty he had for too long neglected and probably would continue to.

"Do you really want that answered?"

"Never mind, but you owe him, you owe both of us. By the way, why didn't we ever use this Shadow stuff on our Pokémon?" The young info broker asked curiously, his head tilted to one side his eyes hidden behind the shades.

"You know very well why, we may be shady, but we don't cross moral boundaries. We aren't monsters like some people portray us out to be."

"Grandfather would've done it."

"I'm not him; get the hell out and get back to your job. Tell Silver "hi" for me."

"Yes, sir." The son of Giovanni stepped toward the double doors and with a click exited the sound-proof office.

With a heavy sigh, Giovanni slumped into his chair and looked toward the monitor. He thought about the trajectory of the Lugia, a straight path heading toward Southeast Kanto, toward the lesser-populated region, just barely missing Cinnabar Island, the place where his father's failed cloning experiment had failed nearly a decade ago. Heading straight for… the town of Summer, Kanto; only an hour drive from Pallet. Looks like someone was going to have a rude awakening, but in all fairness, Giovanni really could care less, it wasn't his problem. He had more important things to think about.

He looked toward a small portrait on his desk, a young woman with brown hair with deep, red highlights grinned at him wearing a pair of familiar Aviator sunglasses, his son's sunglasses, his wife's sunglasses, she was wearing a sun dress in the picture taken by Giovanni on their honeymoon nearly two decades earlier. Neither son had been born yet, nor had Giovanni yet to join the Syndicate.

The image was peaceful, just the two of them enjoying the beach under a large umbrella listening to the sounds of crashing waves along the coastline and living life as it should have been.

"I'm sorry Mary, I shouldn't have gotten involved. You've sacrifice everything for me, huh?" He said sadly to no one in particular except the far off grave containing a body that had taken the Syndicate Leader's hopes and dreams with it.

On the adjacent side of the desk was a portrait of two Giovanni, Junior and Senior, taken from the successor's college graduation and the day he joined the Navy. The two's smiling faces were a stark mockery of the deceased Senior that Giovanni remembered. A fake and imposter, but yet, a better father than the real one could ever be. The one in the pictures was simply a mask, one that he had adopted himself.

Giovanni spoke with distain, "Look what you've done, asshole. You've taken my wife, my children, my innocence, my consciousness, my dreams, my life; all because you put your corrupt business before family. Good riddance, I hope they have a special spot in Hell boiling warmer than the rest. You deserve every punishment they can throw at you, you piece of trash. I hope you suffer in Hades, Dad."

The Boss grabbed the picture case and photo with little care and lobbed it across the room like a shuriken, the square-shaped case smashed into the floor and shattered, being made of glass, into a million or so pieces. The photo was ripped in places and Giovanni chose to ignore it as he put the stress of his personal life in the back of mind and turned back to the immediate disaster about to occur.

He brought his hand down with a loud smack that sent the cluster of pencils and pens rolling around on the wooden desk. The leader's pistol, a Government Model 1911, rattled dully as the surface below it shook.

With a few key strokes along his keyboard, the wall-mounted monitor and Giovanni's desktop switched from the footage from the Shadow Lugia and to that of a map of Kanto.

Giovanni began to design a diagram using his electronic-stylus pad and began to type up a reacquisition order for some Rocket members to infiltrate emergency services and recover data from the coming disaster, or at least what would be left over after the attack. He hoped that his intuition, the belief that the Lugia would only attack the town of Summer was correct, as even under the influence of the neurotoxin, it could be expected that at least the beast's survival instincts would be intact and keep the creature near water, its source of livelihood, was correct.

Whether the dragon continued or not, there was going to be a lot of dead; in his territory and he had no way to stop it, at least not discretely. The thought made him feel guilty, no matter the moral boundaries he refused to cross, the lives he refused to take, the toes he had chosen to avoid stepping on, no matter his mental compass, he couldn't do anything and he assumed the blame internally. He was very much likely the cause for this incident, directly or indirectly. Since his father's death, Giovanni had attempted to lead the Syndicate away from his predecessor's blood-filled reign, however his work had caused an unspoken Schism in his organization, and he knew well that sooner or later, something was going to snap. He was definitely not prepared.

He needed his scotch, he was starting to think too much again. He pressed an intercom button and made a call to Ariana to bring him another alcoholic beverage, an escape from the pain and prophecies.

Meanwhile, as Giovanni contemplated his situation, the black sea dragon colored a shade of coal black and purple with glowing blood-thirsty red eyes, entered the skies over the coastal town of Summer, a peaceful small city with a heavy dependency on tourism and the families of employees working out in the new business district an hour's drive north in Pallet. No one below, all asleep with twilight just out before the horizon, suspected their world would come crashing down starting with an ominous roar, a rude awakening, and the brightest light anyone had ever seen, a blazing aura able to illuminate and block the sun's rays splashing everything with a dazzling white light.

For the people of Summer, and especially that of an early teenage boy, their world was suddenly set alight with the sound of an ominous scream.

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	2. As the World Burned

** Not much to say, this chapter is long overdue, I'm not sure if I should update all the chapters or if I should just post them with minor adjustments. May need some suggestions… Read and Review, the help is greatly needed and appreciated.**

**I also cut some out so I could plug it into the next chapter sometime or something, we'll see!**

_…_

_Chapter 2: As the World Burned_

_Words: 6217_

_Franchise: Pokémon_

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**[Red T. Blackburn]**

**[Summer Town Suburb – Southwest Kanto]**

…

Distant thunder roared in the distance, waking Red from his slumber, his mind clouded by the whispers of a dream, one of the good kind. Distastefully the young boy of 13, sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes and muttered an unintelligent curse smudged by his chapped lips and dried drool on his face.

He opened his eyes with a simmer of difficulty, the flaky feeling of dry eyes met his senses with annoyance.

The room was dark and peaceful, minus the afterglow from the lights outside his windows, casting long rectangles of light across the boy's bedroom ceiling.

The maroon window shades did little to obstruct the blue afterglow filling his room with the color of navy blue and shades of indigo. Red looked toward his alarm clock and found it read 6:45 am. Today was to be a school day as it was now Monday, however, Red's alarm clock had been set for later. School did not start till ten am, plenty of time to be wakened from his slumber.

For this 13 year old boy however, it seemed the universe would not let him sleep. This was the second time he woke up tonight, the last was at three am, also caused by thunder. Was it possible that a tropical storm had moved inland? Red could not be sure but he decided it did not matter as much as his fully awoken mind would have thought.

Instead, the boy, clad in Charmander-print pajama pants and a black, nearly formfitting T-shirt decided to reminisce on his dreams.

Already the memory was beginning to fade but Red mentally made an effort to catch the dreams as they breezed their way out of his mind into the void beyond his mind.

Images were caught in Red's grasp, an image of a mountain, a young boy and his presumed dead parents.

The glorious mountain, the looming Mt. Silver that every Kanto child knew of and spoke of in fearful breaths. Tales of large, unknown Humanoid Pokémon that would come down from the mountain and snatch little children from their beds at night. It had stood silent before the young boy, personified by Red in his subconscious state, simply stared up at it.

Much like his analytical mind, he was unable to feel his emotions of fear, anxiety, and shock. Only animalistic shivers ran through the boy's spine, this was a Mountain of Death.

However, his mind could not recognize that, he simply started toward it. Not able to look away, not able to look around or in another direction. Suddenly, a pair of hands patted on each of his shoulders respectively. One left and one right, both large, protective, and reassuring.

The boy was suddenly able to move and he looked up to the owners of these hands. A middle aged couple, a man and a women. These two had been Red's parents, Kelly and James Blackburn.

James, Red's father, was clad in his traveling clothes: a grey-like brown trench coat that reached his knees, with a green and brown fleeced trench sweater underneath, a pair of thermos pants, military-brand hiking boots, and a black baseball cap marked with a patch of a circle marker in steel grey surrounding a green orb. The old insignia of Professor Samuel Oak's research Think Tank, named, the Darwin Project.

His mother, Kelly Blackburn also wore a baseball cap marked with the Darwin Project Insignia, except the coloring of the hat was a cool green. She wore a black poncho over a purple athletic fleece jacket and black thermos shirt. She also wore a pair of tight grey pants that would camouflage well with a deep snow, and her favorite purple running shoes.

This was the last appearance of the orphan boy's parents before their supposed demise, during a travel trip that passed through the treacherous territory of Mt. Silver during the winter, a suicidal trek for even the most experienced trainers.

However, the Blackburn couple had not only been experienced trainers, they were aces who had made a living on their Pokémon Battling careers, they were the elite of the elite, becoming household names; and yet the impossible happened, they disappeared on that mountain.

Red watched as his father patted his head and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his mother leaned down and got eye to eye with her son. The boy's own amber, red eyes meeting his mother's cerulean blue. She kissed him affectionately on the cheek and started to speak words but no words came, the memory of her voice and words had long been ravaged away with time and pain. She looked happy and proud, as did Red's father.

They nodded to each other, then they waved to Red, now imagining himself on the front porch of his old suburb house in the town of Pallet before he moved and watched them leave. He felt light tears roll down his face but he remained still and silent, fearing his voice and movement would break the spell.

Red imagined his old best friends from childhood standing next to him, an unnamed boy and girl whose eyes reflected Red's and formed the trio. Red. Blue. Green.

The two friends of the red-eyed boy nodded to each other and looked to Red. He looked at them both back and an understanding passed between them, then they were wiped away with dust. Red looked toward his parents. They had vanished into thin air. Only the mountain remained, only the ominous mountain that remained silent, as if staring back.

Red shook himself from the dream already starting to feel sleepy again. Red kept his sloppy mess of black hair to the pillow staring up at the ceiling as he attempted to stay awake for a little longer considering his situation, he probably should get more sleep; he wouldn't be getting any more rest for the rest of the day either way.

The pitter-patter of rain slammed upon the jagged roofing of Red's home and echoed into the rooms of the second story below. Distinct thunder also rumbled every now and then but Red remained unfazed.

He continued to listened to his own restful breathing, twitching his toes in concentration and boredom, he felt kind of antsy, almost anxious, like something was about to happen.

And something did happen as it were, a few minutes later a loud explosion knocks Red from his trance. A loud eruption had carried from outside the house and out from the slamming rain. A flash of light ignites the wall socket by Red's bed stand and illuminates the room for less than a second.

Suddenly, the alarm is beeping and sparking as if in a frenzy. The seizure begins quickly before suddenly ending as sudden as it began. The alarm clock went out for good.

Red stared at the electronic timer in shock, what the hell just happened?

Red felt a numbing, icy feeling rise into his face covering his forehead in goosebumps. Red had enough, he climbed out of bed and to his full height: a mere 5'' 3' and weighing little over 92 lbs. Red's tight, black night shirt revealed some lean, athletic muscle from his habit of doing bodily exercises regularly and a overtaxing gym class had brought upon results. He moved with a purpose to the windows and pulling back his shades and shutters to get a good look, what he saw astonished him to a new extreme.

He's seen Pokémon before, just never like this. What he saw was like the stuff of legend. Red was shocked by the sight of a magnificent bright light, a being of pure white brighter than the sun.

It was like an airborne search light, blinding in nature. However, the light was quickly extinguished and the creature revealed. A magnificent, obsidian-black dragon of an aquatic nature.

It had a distinct blood-red gleam in its eyes that broke the darkness of the skies around, it had a charcoal-grey spinal structures along its back and a forked fail. A domed skull and wings that looked to be made more of fur than feather. It was a monstrosity, a deadly beauty.

Red watched in shocked fascination as his mind failed to recognize the danger, his mind went into terminal shock and attempted to reboot and process what he was seeing: a black dragon at the center of a maelstrom of lightning, thunder, and heavy rain firing beams of white light and energy throughout the suburbs, destroying everything in its path. A house here, a house there.

Its death ray lit houses and buildings ablaze, the climbing flames were immediately too strong to be put out by the howling wind and rain. The creature continues to float and fire, only waving it wings momentarily to maintain balance; it was almost as if the dragon was levitating.

Red was eventually able to come to his sense, and not a second too soon, the black beast turned toward Red's home as if realizing the boy was watching its path of mayhem. Its eyes bored into Red with a deadly viciousness that drove the young boy cold.

Duck! His mind was yelling as he dove for the carpeted floor. Every time the creature fired, a silent beam would be followed by an explosion. No loading sound, no wait, perfectly silent, a terrible and perfect weapon. Red waited for the bead and it came.

He sees a bright light, an explosion is heard, louder than the largest explosion capable of being produced by a Voltorb, and suddenly Red was no longer in his room. The feeling of rain drops and the noticeable sound of wind, he was outside!

Red shut his eyes for a few seconds still in denial of the reality, he didn't know what had happened.

His entire body was on fire. He felt electrified and groggy at the same time, almost as if he was high on a very powerful drug.

He opened his eyes and looked upward, he was met with the bleak palette of clouds batched by endless rain. The skies were still somewhat dark, but from behind the clouds, light began to fill the suburbs as the sun rose from behind the block of clouds.

Red looked around, first thing he noticed was the ground was not firm but fabric-like and formed to his back. He lay on top of his backyard trampoline, head toward the sky and his house, his room. Well, it was essentially fried turkey.

One entry wound, one exit wound. Both were of humongous proportion; if the pajama-clad boy had been standing in the way of that blast, he would surely have been killed.

The three that once stood next to Red's room had been blasted and shaken to the point that it had been forced into the house itself causing untellable property damage. The attic was collapsing down onto the room and had started to spew smoke but there was no evidence of fire, from where Red stood, the house looked almost sad.

Around Red, there was a collection of glass, wood, and metal shrapnel that had torn holes in the thick fabric of the trampoline and had littered the backyard thoroughly.

Red looked down upon himself and found his pajamas had been torn to shreds from the knees down and marked with scorch and torn tatters. Luckily, Red's shirt was left untouched and his underwear was not showing. For the most part, Red was fine. Not a single scratch on him.

He was even luckier that the trampoline had broken his fall. He shoot have been cut and bruised. Hell, he should have been dead.

What a miracle it seemed.

Red began picking his way toward the house avoiding debris as he went. His carefulness bared fruit and he maneuvered to the porch unharmed. The boy looked toward the builds around him: smoking roofs and collapsing foundations made up the skyline. The air was beginning to fill with sudden emergency sirens, the distant whistle and horns of fire engines and police cars, and the calling of survivors looking for loved ones in the disaster center.

Not a single angry, charcoal-colored death dragon spewing white energy beams was seen in the sky at this point.

From downtown, Red could see bellowing smoke escaping from the skyscrapers and business district. Craters and chunks of material from homes and structures littered the suburbs and Red's backyard even taking out a portion of his picketed fence.

The energy beam had made a clean pass through his bedroom and taken out several houses nearby. The entire second floor was also starting to sway, the house foundation did not look safe.

Red looked at his situation hesitantly, unsure of what to do. Quickly, he decided; he went up to his back door and attempted to open it, forgoing safety.

The pajama clad boy shook the door knob to make sure it even worked than attempted to turn it. Nothing budged after a degree of smoothness; no doubts, it was locked.

The pitter patter of rain continued to be heard if not increasing in volume and quantity as if some higher power was telling Red that, yes, his day was about to get a lot worse.

Great, a satirical god. Red turned around and stepped back into the pouring rain and looked around. The droplets stung Red's body but the dull smacks were left unattended and ignored as he figured out what to do next.

Red walked over to the outdoor presidium of the house's backyard, a white and tan colored patio made of oak and cobble stone with a fancy grill, a fireplace, and a nice set of dining table and chairs left untouched by the endless carnage. The irony of the world it seemed, inanimate objects were left unharmed, but valuable Human life could not be spared.

Red looked directly toward the house and titled his head to get a good look at the exit wound of the house. A pile of loose bricks and drywall had made a sharp but bearable incline into the second story. Excellent, perfect, and ironic.

Red had no shoes, and that mean harming his feet to get inside. Great. The annoyed boy with a name that matched his eyes was severely annoyed, completely overshadowing any mourning or feelings of shock that had come with the evident destruction of his current residence.

Red shrugged at nothing in particular and moved toward the incline, and started his ascent. A piece of loose glass here that nearly cut open his forearm. A faltering brick that slipped under his right foot that nearly threw him down and gave his sole a bad scrape. A scratch by some open rebar created a gash in Red's already torn pajama pants.

It took him some time, at least six minutes but Red managed to get within the building, he was already tired out. Man, he had never been an outdoorsman. Darn whatever higher power that made his life difficult and had made it a struggle to get his Trainer License. It would have been the incentive that he needed to actually become wilderness-adapted.

Red rolled onto his back to catch his breath. He looked around and noted the room he was in.

Besides the gaping hole in two of its walls, the room was mostly intact. There was a twin-set bed stacked in the corner, however, the top bunk had never been used. There was a large working desk in the corner just barely out of reach of the energy attack. On top was a probably still functioning computer with internet access and full quick-draw physical storage system as seen by the large and expensive storage device that also had been left untouched next to an old typewriter and a somewhat old printer that probably also still worked.

The remaining walls were decorated with college posters, images of fast cars, drawings of dragon Pokémon, and the ceiling was painted in such a way that only an observant person from a certain angle could make out the stencil-design of a Flygon.

This was Indigo's room, Red's adult cousin who was currently working and taking up residence in the distant Kalos region. He had been a medical practitioner at a prestigious medical hospital in the surgery ward. Red had never found any interest in the medical field and found all the blood and gore that came with surgery had quickly turned him away.

That hadn't stopped his current guardians from trying to force it upon him, who should be asleep at the moment down stairs, Red's aunt and uncle, if they hadn't been awoken by this very loud and very noticeable hole in their damned house.

Uncle and Aunt Reed, were both dentists and considered masters in their field running a mom-and-pop dentistry down the road at the supermarket. Red hadn't liked dentistry either and had learned to avoid it like a plaque creating a number of excuses that had marginal success at chasing away his ever observant family members.

They hated Pokémon Trainers with a passion, they didn't like Pokémon in general, considering them pests. Though from Red's assumption, he bet that the dislike had not been this vocal and straight until his own parents' deaths in the Pokémon-infested wilderness.

They had tried to knock the interest of Pokémon out of Indigo, it succeeded. While the cousin that Red looked up to like a brother, had always been a fan of the Trainer community, he had been exempted and ostracized at his parents' consent and eventually was forced to give up on any dream of becoming a trainer: he used to really like Dragon Pokémon as obviously shown from the abandoned room and posters.

He still owned an Eevee and a Horsea at his home in Kalos though; something Red had always been envious about. He hoped soon he would get his Pokémon, but any thought of that happening right now did not matter as much as finding his guardians.

Red looked back at the old computer feeling drawn to it for some strange reason. He went over to the old monitor and turned on the power and doing the same for the processer. He moved the mouse as the sounds of powerful but old fans began to run, the screen remained black however. Nothing happened, Red was disappointed.

He left the computer in its unattended state and started to make his way out of the room avoiding any attempts at visiting his own room at this moment as debris had filled the entirety as seen from Indigo's own bedroom.

Red stepped into the hallway and started to march down the simple hall that made up the upstairs. The house was not very expensive and very simple in nature. The upstairs was intersected by a simple long hallway where all the upstairs rooms connected. Red passed the bathroom and the storage closet and started downstairs.

Every three steps, Red got an audible creak, something that normally did not happen since the house was only a few years old, probably five. It only continued to show the failing integrity of the home. He needed to find his Aunt and Uncle, and quickly.

Red got downstairs, crossed through the atrium and shaken dining room. The fine china that had been on display had toppled over and smashed within their own protection case. Making his way to the master bedroom, the boy found a closed door.

Suddenly, the sound of constant creaking and the groaning of the upstairs got Red's attention, he looked up. Nothing happened but a snapping sound was heard followed by a serious of crackling and smashing of rebar and wood that suggested collapsing rooms and roofs.

The sounds of the collapsing house was followed by hollow metal from what sounded like a rusted church organ and the shattering of three stacks of washed dishes.

Red opened the door to a horrid sight: The upstairs bathroom, luckily not the entirety of the upstairs had collapsed into the master bedroom and collapsed into the bedroom. The debris blocked Red's path literally as the ceiling had caved into the doorway and only allowed the boy to look into the room but not enter.

There were no signs of life at all.

Red spoke with alarm, a sinking feeling dread started to well up inside him. "Uncle, Aunt Reed! Are you in there?"

There was no answer and the groaning of the house continued to suggest that something was going wrong, he needed to get out of here. He called again. "Uncle, Aunt, where are you guys!?"

There still was no reply, Red was now beginning to panic. At this point, he decided that his own survival was paramount but he wasn't going anywhere without survival gear, he wasn't leaving without supplies.

Something had snapped, dead within the young boy, as if the final thread of a tight-knit and reinforced rope strand had come apart and the entire rope bridge over the rushing river collapsed and suddenly everything didn't matter, Red had no more obligations in life.

This was the time for him to make a decision in life. What was his destiny and future?

The distant sirens begged him to stay in the town, when there was nothing left that kept him tied down here in the town of Summer. Red looked toward the wall, in the general direction of North. He reminisced of his past in the town to the North, his birthplace, Pallet, Kanto.

Red's resolve was unparalleled, unconquerable and he made his decision even when he felt scared and anxious shudders run through his body in fear of the future. He was leaving this town. For good, forever. He was leaving for northward, he wasn't going to be tied down by the bureaucracy like all these other broken families turned into disaster victims and refugees, he was going to travel and do what he had always wanted to in life: just like his parents.

He was going to be a trainer, no matter what happened. Nothing was going to stop him now. In the distance from upstairs, a ping was heard ringing suggesting that Indigo's old computer had turned itself on. Nothing could hold him back now, he was leaving.

Red maneuvered through the house: the kitchen was now a mess, as the ceiling began to collapse around him. Smashed glass, fine china, toppled furniture, a house plant with dumped soil across the counter. The refrigerator had collapsed on its side.

Red ran up the stairs while conscience of the possibility of fragile and collapsing wood. Nothing fell over from his added weight luckily.

Red yelled down the stairs as he climbed it, "Uncle, Aunt, are you there?" Again, no reply was heard.

At this point, trying to identify if his aunt and uncle were alive or not had become a lost cause.

Red turned back to Indigo's room which miraculously had yet to collapse while the other rooms: the third bedroom, bathroom, and storage closet had all fallen in on the master bedroom; all on top of the master bedroom. This would make it somewhat difficult to make it back to the stairwell but Red was not afraid as he went to the computer.

It was one of the older models and instead of having an interface to work with, it asked him if he wanted to use "Quick Systems" and "Standard Interface," Red chose the quick systems.

A window opened up from the edge of the screen blocking out a portion of the boring, office theme of a dull blue background and Times New Roman font.

The options appeared: "Withdraw, Deposit, Reboot Systems, File Management, and Admin Settings."

Red chose Withdraw and found another monitor opening up with a simple but small list of items that were stored on the system at Indigo's personal storage. The boy noted it was generally a lot of equipment but he ignored it and typed in the system command: Withdraw All.

He pressed enter and looked toward the tele porter that was next to himself, the machine was already starting to glow at a point and the computer said, "Processing."

A small, microscopic portal produced a number of items: 3000 Credits, enough paper money to survive off for a good while, a Town Map and compass, and a Potion, or simply, biological healing factor for Pokémon. The items had been transferred from a storage space that Red had been told about, assuming Indigo had kept the storage space a secret in a false hope that his parents would eventually relent. He ultimately decided to left them behind, now they would serve their purpose in another form, for another cause; Red's.

Red grabbed the gear and made the sprint for his room avoiding toppling objects and shattered portraits and ornaments in the hall. His room had a new unparalleled view of the carnage throughout the city gained from the beam of energy, however, for every step Red took, the floor creaked below him suggesting an unstable ground yet again.

Red was getting more nervous that he was wasting time, he looked around the remaining parts of his room. He noted that the beam had been a very clean shot: no burns or signs of cracks besides that created by the force. There was no signs of extensive damage and the hole was a clean hit, the rest of the infrastructure was mostly fine, almost like a large beam of concentrated, razor-sharp wind.

Red first went for his school bag and in a few seconds had emptied all its content besides some writing utensils and a small binder where he often contained writing and drawing paper for whatever he needed it for.

Red zoomed around his room grabbing the most important and necessary things trying to stay orderly and efficient as he went. Duct tape, flashlight, extra batteries, portable electronic charger, Trainer-specialization books, tooth brush and toothpaste, tissues, and a number of comfort and functional items.

He also changed out of his shredded pajamas and looked for some better clothing in his walk-in closet, he was switching to a comfortable school vest colored in red but bagged a large hoodie with thermal layering, several pairs of jeans, lots of socks and undergarments, and his trusty cap that he had bought the last time he had been in the town of Pallet, one colored red-and-white like the design of a Poké Ball. The clothes grabbed reminded Red much of his parents' favorite clothes and he let that feeling sink in.

He was going on his own journey now, even if it was more impromptu than his parents or what his friends would be doing soon.

Red took a deep breath and marched out of his room, closing the door behind him for sentimental reasons. He walked toward the stairwell and rushed down it followed quickly by a symphony of crackles as he went down. The house had yet to increasingly collapse under its sagging foundation and supports but signs of wear and tear were becoming much more evident as the minutes rolled by.

An old war bayonet used to hang on display by the stairway, Red grabbed had grabbed it on his way down and had thrown it in his bag. He didn't have time to properly store his gear so for now, he was going to be messy.

Red pulled out an umbrella from the umbrella stand and pulled on his black and red running sneakers and unlocked the front door.

He led with the umbrella and exited the house one last time. He stepped out into the pouring rain, and recognized the pouring water upon his head. The hat managed to muffle most of the drops but his shoulders and the rest of his body was left to deal.

Turning back from the house, Red gave the home he grew up in for most of his life and did not look back once more. He hiked the road and turned on a street, Homely Lane.

Red did not pay much attention to the locale as these were paths he had long walked his life, he would more than love to leave them behind for good. He was never meant for the suburb life, ever since a child he wanted to be an adventurer, a trainer.

The endless houses passed in the background unnoticed but Red went from walking to jogging as he planned his escape, he would not remain. He would not be held down by this town any longer.

He jogged down the street and ignored the now seemingly distant sounds of disaster around him: the rows of other burning suburbs cracking, the burning houses with licking flames and collapsing structures, and the small number of people calling out for help or aimlessly wandering the roads, the distant wails of police and the fire department were spreading out across the horizon. Red could almost imagine the glowing lights and sirens rushing down his street now…but they did not come.

A man in stylish, purple boxers and a black hoodie was running down the road. He looked Red up and down curiously and called a simplistic greeting, "Morning."

Red replied without haste to appear as if he was moving with a purpose, "Morning to you too, sir. I'm looking for a friend."

"Alright, son, but when you get the chance; find your parents are alright."

"Yes, sir." Red replied making brief eye contact, the man had onyx eyes that bore into him, but were surprisingly warm. The man nodded in modest acceptance and continued to run, probably also looking for neighbors and friends. The man did not look back.

As Red continued down pasted the burned out houses and the debris filled streets, he found himself regretting not at least trying to check on his neighbors and classmates, people he had lived much of his life with even if the relationships had not been strong. It was more likely than not that if they were in his position, they would go looking for their friends and family too.

Red jogged down the street toward some of his classmates' houses. Bone "Litter" Lysander, missing or no one around from what he saw out front. Madeline Minnie, house completely toppled over. Rose Miller, laid dead in the street with a piece of large shrapnel sticking through her stomach. Her eyes had been wide open.

Red had made the effort to close her eyes, remove the shrapnel and cover her body with a sheet to care for the body. Once the rain stopped, the flies would come.

Red failed to shed tears, he barely knew her but they had been acquaintances, maybe even friends, but he did not feel enough emotion beyond his determined goal to worry or mourn. Something he would have much time for in his future of freedom. These people he had not known because he failed to take the time to create bonds here, he wasn't shy but introverted and unsocial by choice.

The town was like a warzone, not a single block seemed to have escaped unscathed.

Red gave up after the 8th classmate's house.

Heading toward the outskirts of the violated and sleepy husk that once was the town of Summer. Red watched as a fire engine passed by with its sirens in full blare. He gave the vehicle a nod as a third ambulance came rushing behind it.

Red looked around him as he passed by a ditch, he wasn't being followed; there was no one nearby and he was alone. Red jumped into the man-made crevice and started walking toward inland. Smoke rose from downtown and the coastal regions of the town and Red simply forgot to look back.

The concrete creek was littered with weeds, overgrown ivy, and wild grass. There was some water that lay in the basin but the most of the grown was bear or covered in litter and assorted trash. Not the best place to walk, but no one would come here but Red. He was sure he wasn't going to be seeing any human contact for a while from here.

Around half an hour of walking through the rain and eventually collapsing his umbrella due to increased wind speeds, Red had finally reached his destination. The Inter-Regional Railways train station. A railway company that made stops between Kanto and Johto that had interested Red as a kid, back then we he was quite innocent, he had loved trains, dear to his heart.

Now he was taking one to use as a means of escape and freedom, rails to freedom, a cheesy thought pasted through his mind.

Red exited the ditch and stepped across Maple Street and looked both ways around the time he got to the middle. He got to the other side, cars were absent from the roads and the only noise he could hear was the distant emergency sirens running through the area.

This was where he parted for his uncertain future. No more overbearing guardians. No more awkward situations with his classmates who did not understand their traumatized classmate who never spoke unless spoken too, the one that did not talk about his family, or his life. No more of this life. No more of the Red T. Blackburn that everyone had come to know in the town of Summer.

The new Red, a boy, an orphan, and now MIA, an unregistered child on the run. He was now a hobo. Red chuckled to himself at that silent thought.

Red walked through the train station parking lot before breaking off but being vigilant to anyone that may be watching, so far there were no witnesses around. The primary thing now standing between Red and northward travel was a final fence.

There was a barbed wire fence that separated Red and the parking lot from the train yard; within there were about 4 to 5 trains ready to go but it seemed they were not going anywhere.

He had thought he heard a whistle wasn't the trains going?

Red considered the situation for a second and disappointingly realized his lack of common sense: the destruction of Summer Town would delay any train traffic from the town and into town. He would be force to wait.

The boy decided that if he was going to wait for several hours than so be it, he flipped his bag off his shoulder and stuffed his small umbrella into his bag and struggled to pull out the old bayonet which had gotten tangled in some clothes. Red eventually got it out and with a quick yank, the clean and metallic scrapping of the blade sliding out of its sheath made Red's nerves tingle in anticipation and a spark of electrified fear.

This was a weapon, a tool of death and this would be the first time he would draw the blade. Something told him that it would not be his last however, he admired its shiny and untampered metal blade and firm rubber handle.

He grabbed a hold a piece of the fence and began to cut. He cut and slashed and smashed the bayonet against the links until it came apart: Red wasn't used to the blade but he was getting the hang of it, he would also have to find out how to clean and sharpen the blade if it was to keep serving its purpose. For now it did not matter.

He climbed through his makeshift hole without a scratch, a very clear hole in the fence was seen the size of a small child that forced Red to kneel to crawl through.

Once through he put his blade back in the bag and rushed toward the nearest train that had a words of any familiar Kanto city. If any train was heading for a Kanto city, it had to go north and pass through Pallet as a major post for inland trade, it was the perfect plan.

Red found a train that was labeled Pewter City Material Shipping Inc. Old train, mostly made of mostly coal cars but a decent number of container and box cars. Finding one that was Red's target, he looked for a way in.

Very quickly Red found that they were bolted shut but a nearby, knocked over pole would help him smash it; just not now, if he broke it now, one of the workers might notice the break and investigate the damage and he would be found.

He would need to do it after the train began to take off. Red grabbed the pole, a good 14 lbs. or so and ran for a couple of large crates by an industrial crane and clambered on top and waited, he was okay with waiting, he had waited his entire life for this chance, why shouldn't he wait a little more.

His relatives were dead and there was no coming back from this: Red had plenty of time to figure out what he wanted to do with his life after he made it to Pallet. His first idea…he couldn't think of anything.

Maybe visit Professor Oak, his parents' empty grave markers… and… Blue and Leaf.

He was headed northward now; now all he could do was wait… and hope for the best.

…


	3. The Old Sites

…

_Chapter 3: The Old Sites_

_Words: 5343_

_Franchise: Pokémon_

…

**[Red T. Blackburn]**

**[Pallet Town Outskirts – North of Summer Town, Near Route 21]**

…

As the constant clicking of the train tracks rolling below Red's feet, Red lay asleep with his baseball cap over his face. He bounced in and out of subconscious as the morning lights seeped through the open storage car door and through the thick cloth of the hat. He had himself wrapped in the clothes upon his skin and a scavenged blanket from his burned down house.

As sudden as the thunder that had decided his fate hours ago, the halting screech and wobbling of the steel axles below the train shocked Red into the world of the light. His eyes awoken but the haze failed to disappear.

Red shivered and wrapped the blanket around him tighter and tried to sleep a little more, he needed to get a little closer to the city before he got out; at least that was what he assumed, he didn't feel a familiar feeling of home just yet, he went on his instincts: he wasn't at Pallet yet. He still had about another 20 minutes before he would need to get out. The bouncing of the train car kept Red from totally falling asleep and the makeshift pillow that was his backpack also did nothing to help his unwanted alertness.

He struggled to get comfortable as he tried to get more sleep. This wasn't working but he would do his best. He forced his mind to drift toward dreams, little did it help as he could not conjure any blissful thoughts with the constant annoyance of his sleeping accommodations; instead he thought about the last few hours, at least before the sleep had mostly overtaken him.

…

He had waited till the lockdown on the trains had finally ended, turned out it lasted 4 hours. An announcement stated that all trains were to leave the station and return with relief supplies so Red had taken his chance.

He ran up to his designated train box car and used the mildly-heavy metal pole to wedge the pad lock on the train door, from what he estimated, he had about 5 minutes as the conductor and the yard workers had already did their final checks on the train and found nothing suspicious of course.

At first the metal lock would not budge so Red had taken out his bayonet and had smashed against some of the rusty looking lock chinks in hopes of softening the metal. It worked to some degree and once he had an awkward shaped metal link with enough pressure to be broken down, he smashed the pad lock at the weakened chink and confiscated the pad lock into the container car with a subtle thud followed by a much louder and obvious ring of the metal bar landing in the box car.

Red quickly climbed within, grabbed the metal pole and jammed the container door tight with the aluminum pole making it only openable from within, the perfect hiding spot.

Red had looked around at his accommodations upon entering the car and found that he was surrounded by boxes full of assorted electronic appliances.

Televisions, computers, landline telephones, laptops, even a few secured computer chairs but they were contained in a few cardboard boxes that he felt no need to rip open.

Little light entered the compartment so after replacing all his gear, Red had pulled out his flashlight to illuminate his surroundings showing the dusty and cluttered surrounding in their full glory not that it bothered the boy.

He went looking at the electronic appliances, he was intrigued; it wasn't every day when you got your chance at snatching a high-valued luxury item for nothing.

Many of the crates were not bolted down and were easy to open without use of any tools. Red opened one box to a large number of new laptops with electric adaptable batteries for Pokémon usage. Now all he needed was an electric Pokémon to recharge his battery.

The orphan chose a carbon layered design with a silver, chrome finish in clear baggage. Just one out of several hundred, Red made the decision that no one would miss a single laptop, so he technically borrowed it, indefinitely.

He couldn't find any way to turn it on however, it wasn't charged yet.

That had been all he had done, so he did the only thing he could think of: sleep.

…

Look at what little it did for him, the boy still felt exceptionally tired, the drowsiness had yet to leave his eyelids for good. He could not go back to sleep now though, the train's movements were too distracting and obnoxious.

He had nothing to do, nothing at all. So he did the one thing left that he could consider, scenery.

The red-clad teen went over to the box car door, struggling to walk properly, but making it to the wall, he hated this unstable floor of the train; it bounced and twisted all over the place. The boy struggled to maneuver himself into an advantageous position eventually getting a good grip on the wedged pole. He exerted a little force from a pull and released his makeshift lock.

The door swung wide open with a nice thud followed by the echoing vibrations of the hollow aluminum pole that had he had been using. Now the landscape was clear or at least the glare.

Red's eyes had to adjust at first to the light but eventually they got over the sudden flash and a view of the rolling hills and distant forests accented the countryside toward Pallet Town.

The clouds still hung above but the light was stronger than it had been hours before, a light sheet of rain continued to pour now.

No longer were there smoking columns from the ruins of the once high-end middle class village of Summer Town; no longer did the stormy clouds along the burning suburbs hold Red in awe. From his position hidden within in the train, he made out the sights of an eerily familiar horizon of trees, countable low buildings, and hundreds of meters of farm, meadow, and plains in every direction. In the distance, a cluster of half completed skyscrapers marked the village's downtown. Pallet Town, since his childhood, the place had changed much. In the back of his own mind, he felt a small anxious feeling that not everything was the same, he knew the place had changed. Time had taken its toll, now he awaited the consequences.

The sun still did not fully appear behind the massive wall of densely collected clouds like a sky full of trees. Bits of rain were heard splattering the roof of the storage cart that splattered above and dropped into the cart as the train moved steadily along its assigned tracks. Damn the cracks in the roof as rain peppered into the container car and the half-ajar hangar door let in the rain and humid air and wind. A magical but harsh feeling.

He watched the scenario outside; a hill came into view and obscured Red's sight of the Pallet skyline, he was now at the edge of a valley full of pine and oak trees with a humid, low hanging fog that obscured the big green leaves toward the bottom.

These used to be his stomping grounds, there was a kind of aura that eroded off of Pallet: into its inhabitants, the people, the homes, the businesses, the city, the surrounding land, the behaviors, the customs. It was simple, easy-going, happy, and most of all clean.

Red hadn't felt like this in such a while: the cleanliness was returning, the feeling of renewal and all negative emotions were temporarily relieved. This was what Pallet was about, the perfect and clean town was the pinnacle of coexistence between nature and industrialism anywhere in Kanto. It didn't get any cleaner or nicer than this.

It brought back memories and feelings that he had not felt in so long. Memories of his friends, Leaf and Blue, there had been more but he could not place faces to names, his family friends: the local nurse who had moved into the neighborhood, Professor Oak at his estate up the road, Blue's house right next door, with Daisy and her prodigal friends, Leaf's mother, Red's own parents…

Huh, there was a reason he had tried to bury those memories. It made the boy feel guilty and anxious about this situation. An uncomfortable feeling began to well up in the orphaned boy: doubt.

Would his friends recognize him? Would they accept him back since it's been so many years. Would they be able to take him in or would they send him away? Would his return be positive or negative? Was this even the right choice, he could always turn himself in?

Red growled in annoyance as these thoughts pounded his conscience, the logical side of his brain was overthinking his situation, he didn't need that right now, at least he was thinking and his mind made sense. If he was half asleep right now, he would still be thinking about random stuff like what if Poliwhirl stomachs could spin? Or how do Dugtrio move so quickly when they are half underground?

He didn't need to wonder pointless questions anyway.

Thunder roared across the horizon, even a spark of lightning was seen from what looked like the direction of Summer Town, south.

Looked like the storm would continue heading north, chasing Red where ever he went, great just his luck.

Red involuntarily stretched followed by a yawn that mimics a roar from a great Legendary Pokémon, he was a beast. The orphan stretched his dull muscles and felt the dried beads of sweat stick firmly to his skin.

The tingles of nervousness and fear had long gone and the cuts and bruises from the near death encounters back in Summer still remained on Red's skin hidden by the autumn-styled traveling outfit expressed in reds, blues, and whites.

He felt it was about time to go, after all, a dirt road was starting to appear below near one of the farms. Red prepared his body, he was going to jump.

The train continued to move yet Red had already got up and stuck his stolen gear into his bag. Red grabbed the large metal pole from the floor of the storage cart and took a deep breath.

Holding the bar with both arms, he quickly prepped himself to use the bar like a track star and lined the metal contraption out toward the ground. He shoved the metal pole left into the ground as the train rattled quickly forward. Red felt the stick hit the ground firmly and it quickly became an immovable object only supported by his arms. Red acted quickly on instinct and rushed out the doors of the train, he and his bag tumbled out of the vehicle and fell face-toward the ground traveling with the momentum and gravity toward the hillside that the train tracks sat upon.

If his parents had been alive and seen him do this, they're opinions on their son would have greatly differed. His father would have called it brave, his mother, well, she would have called him insanely stupid.

One thought registered into Red's mind, this was going to really hurt as he twisted his body into a fire-safety roll and abandoned the metal rod by the train tracks.

His body impacted the hard but fertile meadow grass along the hillside and began to tumble. He slide and rolled as weeds, small pebbles and dust was kicked up and swatted around him as he gained velocity toward the bottom of the hill. Red kept his eyes shut not daring himself to get a headache or dizzy spell from tumbling excessively down the landscape. If Red had been simply a bystander watching this scene, he probably would have found the tumble comical, but right now, he wasn't laughing.

New and old cuts and bruises reopened across his body and he let his muscles and joints go slack allowing himself to become a rag doll.

He finally came to a halt at the base of the hill. Somewhere down the hill, Red had lost his bag, jacket, and cap.

For a few seconds, the boy minus his bag cap, and jacket was in the pouring rain feeling stunned and like he had the utter pulp beaten out of him. He was hurting and the fire from the injuries were not getting any cooler.

He lay in the dirt and the grass and the weeds and simply lay as if he was a dead body. Red even considered just falling asleep right there and then and never reawakening, this is not what he imagined being a trainer would feel like.

Whoever advertised this idea to him, probably one Blue Oak, was going to get the living day lights knocked out of them someday for this.

The wet and now vengeful soul within Red pushed himself up, fighting through the pain and the feelings of drowsiness to get to his feet. He needed his stuff: his bag, his jacket, his hat …and his pole… no sick jokes here.

He clambered up and maneuvered himself to the upright position and looked around him. The hill he had jumped off, the one with the train now distantly traveling away, leaving him behind, now appeared even steeper.

He really was an idiot sometimes, it was at least a 20 foot slope at an 80 degree angle, almost a direct fall. Damn, no wonder it hurt. Red really hoped there were no broken bones.

The boy took two steps and he was upon his feet taking in his surroundings, he grimaced in pain.

His head swiveled back and forth looking for his equipment, he had landed on his hat which had been crushed into the mud, dirt, and grass and making it looked less like a prized possession and more of that of a hobo's hat. Well, he was in Pallet, maybe he would just pick up a new one. A black bag was at the edge of the hill and looked unharmed, checking inside, Red found everything had survived just fine, even the laptop.

His jacket had come off like and cloud and floated loosely in the wind until it landed on a big stick. A big pole sticking out of the ground.

The pole glinted out of the deeper mud like an unexpected thorn or a tree that had broken through the ground. An odd artistic image developed by the sick hands of nature and fate, a photo of the pole would probably bring in a large sum of money if it were to be entered in a post-modernist art contest; too bad Red did not have a camera.

This was annoying, he had thought as he removed the hat from the pole which vibrated with his touch.

The muddied and scrapped boy scowled at the pole and decided to leave it there. His anger became sarcastic humor, an inside joke which only he would know. He chuckled softly at the item. He wouldn't be getting it out anytime anyway, so he moved on.

You gain some, you lose some; that was the logic. To move forward, you have to let something go, even if it was something as stupid and meaningless as a pole.

Red began to march away toward the dirt road, leaving behind a piece of his history or a mark of his journey, the first step. A humiliating and embarrassing first step, but none the less it was a first step, or was it a first leap of faith? Red didn't care, he was moving forward.

He still felt minor pain as he walked but it was slowly backing away, but a limp had become noticeably evident. Red was still sure it wasn't a broken bone.

Red realized quickly from his position now that he was at ground level, that to reach the road he would have to cross on private land, if he wasn't already on it.

A wooden fence that separated the ditch and a corn field stood between Red and the road.

Why did the teenage boy cross the corn field? So he could get to the road which he decided not to cross. Real logical.

A sudden though struck Red, what if someone saw his tumble? He looked around but saw no one, he jumped into the field, over the fence and onto someone's property. Real smooth.

The field was large, appearing endless among the hills, valleys, forests, and mountains that formed the horizon.

He had found himself in one of the newer bushels of the staple crop, so he did the obvious. Red decided in his infinite wisdom to try a piece of corn from one of the bushels. He quickly picked one out and snapped away the leaves and distasteful parts of the vegetable and decided to take a bite, the plant didn't look too green.

One bite was all it took for Red to do a double take and spit out the food, he dropped the greens and realized that the corn was still too ripe to be eaten. In a cartoonish way, Red wiped his head to try to clear the nauseous feeling from his body.

On the ground now, a group of Pidgey had decided to scramble toward the dropped food and started to viciously tear their way through the corn. Red quickly and silently snuck away trying not to disturb the creatures as they ate away at what he guessed was nonedible to him but enjoyable to bird Pokémon.

Over the tops of the corn stocks, Red made out the white, wooden framework of a barn and a ranch house in the distance. Distant voice could also be heard but they seemed to come from the back of the home.

The sneaky runaway started to jog through the underbrush hoping that the nearby livestock and wilderness would mask his sounds and movements through the field. He was quick to reach the end of the corn and dangerously crossed a 15 meter gap to the next fence. He halted and looked around, nobody was around, no owners, no people, no Pokémon.

Red closed the distance with the wooden fence across from him in a few great strides and was over the fence in a few seconds. He looked back to confirm his stealth and nodded to himself in confirmation, he was home free and on a farm lane made of loose gravel and asphalt.

The road had fallen into disrepair it seemed; as long as the orphan could remember, Pallet as a city never had a large community spending budget so the county was unable to cover the costs to maintain its roads instead putting its money into its tourism and the modernization of its business district reasoning that once more money began to flow through the city bank and the economic enrichment programs started to pay for themselves, they could pay for having higher quality community facilities. So far it seemed it had not paid off.

There was a small sign somewhat farther down the road from Red who decided to go walk up to it, a stone bench under a concrete and glass archway joined the sign. A bus stop. How convenient. The boy went up to the glass panel that usually marked the arrival and departure times but found no information at all. The paper seemed to have been removed a while ago, and the concrete pillars had been vandalized by graffiti, written in screwy handwriting that nobody would ever be able to read.

It seemed Red didn't have the greatest luck, well, here he was going to wait it seemed…unless the incoming sound of a rigid tires and the puffing of a large gas guzzler suggested anything. It was either an oil tanker, a farmer in his truck or tractor, or a diesel-powered bus. Red hoped for a bus, 30 seconds of waiting and he was already bored.

It was in fact a bus, painted in the white and navy blue color scheme of the city bus service that had not changed since the orphan's last residency. Red waved it down by flagging it with outstretched hands as if he was stretching.

Pallet Town customs were very strict against helping hitchhikers and other suspicious individuals so rather than using the universal hitchhiker hand signal, Red used the common gesture of attention. The bus rolled up to Red as predicted; the Pallet Town community was very tight nit so it was better to use what he remembered about the town to his advantage and it seemed that it still worked as it had long did in the past.

The vehicle came to a halt with an obnoxious hiss and the doors flew open revealing an old, bald man in a blue city uniform, a stereo-typical bus driver who Red pointed to the next stop as he stepped into the bus entryway.

The man was silent and waved his hand toward the automated pay box, Red looked at the machine. It simply stated the require payment and the next stop: the ride was an average 10 credits, a somewhat expensive price in Red's opinion, but he dutifully paid the price and moved toward the back of the bus; he stepped up the steps and into the shadowy corner as he passed several rows of plastic bleacher seats. There was very few people on the bus mostly adults in business suits heading off toward work, there was however a pair of guys aging around 18 dressed in trainer outfits and fan jerseys, they were likely headed to the Pallet Town Stadium, the Town's own official trainer facility maintained by tax-payer's money. It was a 5 to 7 minute drive from the fields to that location from what Red could guess, Pallet Town was larger than Summer but was made of mostly farms and small suburban neighborhoods making the population greatly smaller than that of the cluttered Summer Town.

Red decided to stop at the stadium since he had no idea what to do next, he hadn't heard from any of his friends in a long time, maybe he would visit the Oaks' facility afterward, he first wanted to visit the Stadium as Red was a rabid battling fan, or was since his aunt and uncle, now deceased, had tried to remove from him permanently.

While Pallet Town was an urban center of itself, its population and tourist economy were still in its infancy and no Gym has yet popped up in the small but rich agricultural city.

Red watched out of the black-stained windows as miles of country side and farms and small suburb clusters passed by dotting the horizon and everything in between. The bus would bounce and rock across the sloppy but well-used gravel roadway. It seems the closer they got to downtown, the better conditions the city facilities and public services seem to get.

The rumbling of the bus entered the boy into a dream-like state, when he started to focus in on the gray metal frame of the bus and the humming of engines and the near silent crunches of gravel below and the stealthy pitter-patter of rain from above.

Red slowly descended into a Highway Hypnosis and was soon becoming drowsy, his head drooped and everything went dark as his mind raced along to thoughts about Pallet and how life used to be. He was home and yet the sound of the diesel gas and the puff of the bus engines startled the orphan. It felt like only a few seconds of sleep, but it had really been 10 minutes of riding, outside bushes and a concrete wall blocked away the sights of the farmland that made up the space that was Pallet Town.

It seemed to Red that he slept a lot, more than he had in a long time, it was probably because he was dealing with the grief and stress of seeing Summer Town burn and his relatives' deaths. That or it was just because he lacked sleep, at this point he couldn't tell and he didn't care.

The orphan boy who had now traveled dozens of miles to reach his birthplace, was now closer to his old house than ever before. From the stadium, an hour's walk east would bring him to the old suburbs where he had grown up. Red stood up and made his way off the bus, interestingly enough, he was the only one getting off, or those teenagers in the celebratory attire had already gotten off in a rush before he woke up.

He nodded to the bus driver who gave Red an annoyed look. The boy was after all covered in mud, dust, and was wet to the bone. He was like a lost, drenched puppy. Red just looked away and brought the brim of his cap over his eyes.

He muttered an apology, he probably had kept the driver because of his established stop and his unexpected sleep. "Sorry, thank you for the bus ride."

Red noted the street was no longer a sloppy gravel road but a street of paved asphalt and the bus stop had an actual booth and vending machine corner instead of a rundown concrete shelter with a sign saying BUS STOP in the middle of nowhere.

The bus whistled and it took off leaving him in a packed parking lot as the roar of a loud crowd became more apparent. Red turned around and found himself walking into the large archway that entered the magnificent coliseum.

Ahead, Red saw the toll booths and the people in line to get tickets to see the action below in the stadium. Red watched the security guards and employees attentively for any movement or notable recognition of Red of being there. He innocently looked around him and faked the need to use the restroom and quickly rushed toward the men's bathroom to his left and out of sight of the guards of the entrance to the spectacular of Pokémon battling.

The child that had been Red Blackburn, at only the young age of 8 or 9, in tandem with his friends, was quite a mischief fellow. He knew every nook and cranny of every popular hangout of Pallet Town for young children. The Pallet Town Battle Stadium, the overgrown neighborhood playground, the farms and ditches, the woods, the old Estate a few blocks from the Oak Family Estate, etc. He used to have to crouch on the back of Blue and let Leaf stand on his shoulders to reach one of the metal arches that supported the facility and get the three into the stadium without adult supervision or paying; much like the rest of their generation who had learned to adapt to the rules of the adult world by simply going around.

That didn't mean they got caught, in fact they often got caught to the point that some of the old guards knew them by face, name, and even their age and favorite colors which wasn't that hard to guess based by name.

Red remembered one time when his mother had grounded him from leaving the house and making her Pokémon take him to and from school for an entire month. Leaf used to make fun of him since her parents didn't punish her besides saying she couldn't have any sweets for the next three months which she ignored because she had an old stockpile somewhere nearby the elementary school.

Now the boy could reach the top of the supports with less of an effort by improvising on his own problem solving skills. Red rushed to the side and looked over behind him to make sure no one had seen him or had come around the corner to get a good look at him. Red quickly rushed a small curved pillar of stone and Red grappled on to the space between the wall and the pillar and aligned himself between the two solid objects and slowly pushed himself higher and higher up the structure and dared not look down, Red barely felt any anxiety or tiredness as he used his legs and arms to balance himself and climb higher up the two surfaces. Climbing to an altitude of about 2 stories off the ground, about 23 feet high.

While the height was probably unnecessary since he could have pulled this off at the 6 foot mark, he found that reaching the highest point as a challenge and an achievement. It showed his new prowess from working out in his P.E class at school. He was stronger than he had been as a child, now he only got a little tired and he was physically talented at terrain conquering. This was no different.

Swinging his arms on to a concrete beam the size of a small semi-truck with enough space for him to lay upon. Red threw his legs up onto the concrete beam and quickly crawled to the side of the pillar where he found himself just below the grating of the food vendor space and noted the fast-food joint that was filled with people either buying or lined up to use the bathroom nearby. Red peaked his head just enough to make out the people and quickly ducked down before anyone noticed. Red slide his arms and entire body to the side of the beam and toward an air duct which left him off the ground for about 3 or 4 seconds.

Red quietly dropped himself on top of the air duct with an audible echo though he was sure no one noticed. Red silently snuck down the makeshift path he had created to a maintenance air way where a metal guard rail was all that separated Red from the stands. No one was looking in his apparent direction and was more focused on the game.

He was home free yet again. Mission success.

Below Red took the time to happily enjoy his pastime, Pokémon Battles, a career and occupation he had always wanted and hoped to join the ranks of Pokémon Trainers much like every child his age.

In the pit below on a grassy field Red could see trainers around Red's age duking it out with rental Pokémon as personal Pokémon was considered both unfair and unprofitable for the corporations and city treasury that maintained the Stadium.

One trainer, a teenage guy around Red's age, was dressed in a green hoodie jacket with a number 1 print applied to the jacket and purple boot cut jeans with a pair of high top sneakers in a silver-like gray, white and purple. The trainer was using a Ghost-type rental Pokémon, a Gengar. This trainer seemed eerily familiar to Red and his hairdo was drastically familiar, Red couldn't put his finger on the identity however.

The other trainer, an older teenager guy in his college years, was dressed in a cowboy leather gallon cap, a large detective-style raincoat jacket and sweat pants and black track sneakers. His rental Pokémon, was a Poison-type Nidorino.

Both trainers had microphones secured to their ears; their voices echoed as their orders broadcasted throughout the stadium; somewhere in the stadium on a radio broadcast, a professional sports caster was probably describing the events as they happened, Red had no idea.

"Nidorino, go for a Bite!" The cowboy-trench coat dressed college kid yelled as the rental Pokémon charged the spirit creature head on with its jaws outstretched. It fangs seemed to glisten in the light with released energy.

The horned creature charged the ghost in front and its jaw began to close in. Red knew the typing difference, this was not looking good. Red didn't know which side to cheer for yet, but this battle looked like it was about over.

He slumped into a chair near the top of the stadium steps and began to watch intensely as the next words from the trainer of the Gengar called out his next command. The Nidorino was closing in.

…

**Cutting it off here since I find that putting too many word in the story too annoying to complete in one chapter. It was way too big. Until next time, please read and review. Check out The Age of Fire at my profile as well, they are an awesome community focused on different Fanfiction groups but primarily Pokémon.**


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