Pokemon Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ The Strength of the Soul ❯ Opposition ( Chapter 5 )

Disclaimer: see prologue

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"It's just come over the board, sir; Ash Ketchum and Misty Williams are dead."

A quiet murmur echoed throughout the marble hall, the ten hooded figures quietly conferring amongst themselves about this new development. They had long suspected that matters would finally come to a head between themselves and the young Master Ketchum, but they had always assumed that any potential rebellion would be quelled within the blink of an eye.

But as of yet, nothing was going according to plan. First, Ketchum was never to have discovered that the love of his life was still alive, let alone be reunited with her. In the event that the assassin they dispatched was somehow stopped from carrying out his mission, Ketchum's escape was to be immediately thwarted by their highest-ranking agent--Renjiro Nanahara. And then life would return to this semblance of normalcy they still retained.

Yet now Ketchum and Williams were not only together once more but had managed to elude the League's grasp and escape into the depths of the Viridian Forest. It was there that Nanahara had found them, but instead of following procedure and simply shooting them on the spot, he had goaded the young Pokemon Master and nearly raped his female companion. Hardly protocol. And then when Nanahara had finally completed his task and gunned down the two subversives, he had somehow destroyed his communicator and now roamed freely about as a rogue assassin.

"I had warned the members of this council not to become so irresponsible in their duties," one of the shadowy figures admonished in a harsh tone. "Once certain…issues were brought to light early yesterday evening, we had decided that Ketchum was a far greater asset to us alive than dead. And now all that we have worked for in keeping such a dangerous individual as Ketchum safe all these years has been destroyed with a few gunshots! You informed us that he was to be captured alive, 'O Exalted One'!"

The Leader calmly turned to face the decidedly young member of the council who had dared to speak such words of insolence to him. "I would remind you to watch your tongue, boy," he said simply, his tone tinged with danger and malice. "For you have only recently become one of us. As for Ketchum's…departure from this world…" He frowned from within the cowl of his robe. "…I do not think it wise to believe so strongly in Renjiro's abilities as an assassin; indeed, the boy is mediocre at best. Do you understand me, my brethren?"

A collective cry of assent sounded throughout the eight hooded figures, joined by a slightly less heartfelt reply from the youngest of them.

"Now then," the Leader continued. "If we are to believe that Ketchum is still alive, this does not mean that our safety is assured. Indeed, such a truth would prove to be much more dangerous at first than its alternative. If Ketchum were to find out about--"

His words ended abruptly as an ear-shattering explosion rocked the hall.

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Dammit…I…I can't…see…

Ash groaned as his eyes slowly began to adjust to the glaring brightness of the room, the harsh neon light casting an eerie glow upon the hospital-white walls. A stab of pain immediately shot up his arm as he shifted his body a bit and attempted to take in his surroundings. Am I in hell?

Sure is bright here.

Cradling his injured arm protectively against his chest, Ash carefully slid off the stainless steel table and gazed around the room. It was obviously some kind of medical examination room, judging by the rows of gleaming steel instruments equipped with various blades neatly arranged upon the long silver countertops. The neon lights overhead sounded a constant, comforting hum, and the antiseptic odor of the room reminded Ash just why he hated hospitals. Where in God's name am I?

"So, you're finally awake."

Ash's hand immediately went to his belt in a vain attempt to arm himself, belatedly remembering that he hadn't been equipped with his Colt since before he'd left to visit his mother the other day. He shut his eyes against what he was sure would be yet another gunshot, only to hear a comforting laugh coming from behind him.

"Calm down, Ash; am I really that terrifying?"

Wait a minute…I know that voice…

Ash turned slowly to face this new threat, still shielding his wounded arm. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as his vision confirmed what his hearing had long since registered.

"B…Brock?"

Brock smiled kindly at his young friend, clapping him on the back in a friendly gesture. "Hey, man. How're those wounds healing?"

"Brock! You--you're alive!"

Brock's smile slowly faded to be replaced by a hopelessly sad and half-hearted smirk. "I'm holding my own. Anyway, you're really lucky we found you when we did; if we'd stumbled across you only a few minutes later, you would've been gone."

The memories soon came rushing back to him in one brilliant flash. The realization of Renjiro's identity…his vow to die with Misty if need be…those two fateful gunshots felling them while still within their tender embrace. He was still alive, yes, but… "Misty? Oh my God, Brock, where's Misty!?"

"Calm down, Ash!" Brock said quickly, rushing forward to restrain his suddenly near-hysterical friend. "Misty's fine; she's down in another of the med rooms, I think. She was in a lot worse shape than you were; apparently, she took a shot head-on. At any rate, she's recovering pretty well. They took care of her first since she'd lost so much blood."

Ash immediately let out the breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding, his mind awash in relief. Thank God she's alive…I don't know what I'd do if I lost her again…A thought suddenly crossed his mind, and he gazed curiously around at the sterile white room. "Brock, where the hell are we?"

Brock smiled and simply informed him, "We're at the main headquarters of the Opposition."

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Ivy choked the cracked foundations of the ancient stone church, its yard long-since neglected due to the League's massacre of the area's denizens twelve years earlier. Years of dead foliage collecting upon the knoll had made the thick grass underfoot magnificently lush and green, the gentle fragrance sharply contrasting the somber mood of the moonlit expanse.

"Here is where it all began," Renjiro mused aloud as he slowly strolled through the neglected rows of tombstones, the cemetery plots overrun with weeds and dying cassia lilies. "And here is where it ended. Life comes full-circle like that, you know?" He took another drag from the stubby cigarette held between his blood-stained fingers and exhaled, the smoke twisting and turning within the night air like lost souls desperately trying to retain their grip on the mortal world. His mother had been like that…

Renjiro scowled and shook his head, continuing his lonely trek up the grassy hill, finally kneeling beside one cracked tombstone and running a calloused hand across its granite surface. "I promised you a long time ago that I'd help bring that bastard to his knees," he whispered. "And--I know that it's been ten years since then, and I've barely made any progress…" He fought back the tears threatening to fall, grinding out his cigarette upon a bare patch of dirt. "…but I was just a kid then, barely even old enough to make it on my own, you know? I couldn't even take care of myself, let alone avenge my mother." He let out a short, bitter laugh and stood. "Things have changed since then, though. I'm a man now, and I'm old enough and smart enough to have finally formulated a plan. I swear to you on my life, Mother--I'll bring him down." A smirk crossed his darkly handsome features as he raised one shaky hand to touch the tattoo emblazoned upon his shoulder. "Everything's finally beginning to come together."

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"And those rooms over there are some of the lesser computer labs…this is the weaponry department…over there's the kitchen…"

Ash gazed around the spotless facilities in wonderment, hardly daring to believe that such a sophisticated rebellion against the League existed. Of course, there had been rumors passed along the line back when he had been yet another of the League's dutiful employees, but he, like everyone else, had dismissed them as mere fantasy, some disgruntled Trainer's way of inciting fear into the hearts of the good, 'law-abiding' patrons of the upstanding Pokemon League. Even later into his career, Ash came to regard the Opposition as yet another metaphor for hope; perhaps it did indeed exist, but there was nothing in his life to suggest that he would ever even obtain a glimpse of it.

"The spy satellite…surveillance return room…the snack bar…"

But then, only about a month earlier, that mysterious letter had appeared, sandwiched between a sweepstakes notification and some political garbage. There was no return address, the stamp was plain, and the letter itself had been typed, offering no opportunity for the possible recognition of the author's scrawl. It simply said, "The Opposition aids the subversives. None must fight alone."

Ash had thrust the paper into his pants pocket as soon as he had read it, glancing fearfully around his spacious corner office and fearing immediate retribution from the eternally-watchful trio of security cameras recording every motion within the room. But a month had passed without his being hauled in to speak to the 'members of the council', so that was definitely a plus. And whether or not he believed in the Opposition or not, Ash secretly carried the paper, now marred by the marks of countless pens and pencils and torn at one corner, with him wherever he went, finding childish comfort within the idea that somehow, somewhere, there might be a chance of escaping from this hellish nightmare.

"And this….is the main control room."

Ash's initial conception that any rebellion against the League would be woefully primitive evaporated as he observed the decidedly high-tech operation that seemed to be centered within this, the main control room. Giant electronic screens lined the walls, which slanted into cathedral ceilings soaring above them at nearly fifty feet. Countless individuals sat at computer terminals, carefully monitoring incoming data. A series of figures upon one of the screens fluctuated rapidly, and another--Ash quickly deducted that this was a global positioning system--alternated between a series of flashing red and green dots. There was a wide platform in the middle of the room, upon which a holographic combat strategy board was being scrutinized by a bearded man in a drab gray uniform. To his right sat a bespectacled young man who typed at a furious pace as he attempted to transcribe each of the orders the man barked out, while to his left stood--

"Misty!"

Misty turned quizzically at the sound of her voice being called, a desperately relieved smile illuminating her features as she ran over to Ash, wrapping her arms tightly around his bandaged torso. He nearly screamed at the pain wracking his body from the sudden force but instead just held her and thanked whatever god might be listening that she had somehow survived Renjiro's attack.

Brock allowed an amused grin to illuminate his features, cocking an eyebrow suggestively at the two. "I always knew there was something between you guys," he said in that same teasing tone that several years ago would have resulted in his ear nearly being ripped from his head as an angered (and clearly embarrassed) Misty loudly denied any attraction to the dense young trainer. But it was clearly a testament to how much had transpired between the two when they ignored his comment and continued to bask in their close proximity to each other.

"Well, isn't this convenient? Both of our League deserters have come together right here in the main control room."

Ash, Misty, and Brock turned in one motion to see the gray-uniformed man smirking at them from his position upon the central platform. "Ash, this is General Konishi, the chief strategist of the Opposition. He's the one who granted clearance for us to pull you and Misty out of the river," Brock informed him, his cheerful gaze dimming a bit as he exchanged a look with the general.

"I suppose you're going to call us 'League scum' and parade us in front of a firing squad at sun-up?" Ash asked sarcastically, releasing Misty from his embrace and taking an aggressive stance.

The general's features remained set in a sense of passive amusement. He switched off the combat strategy board and descended the short flight of stairs adjacent to the platform, observing, "Well, yes, indeed, Master Ketchum, you are the highest-ranked member of the League…at least, officially, that is. You've remained fiercely loyal to the League throughout the past five years, as your status as 'Pokemon Master' would surely be jeopardized by any subversion on your part. Am I correct?"

Ash scowled angrily at the general's condescending tone and amused expression. "As you said, officially I was the League's biggest supporter. But I must have done something to piss them off recently, seeing as how they tried to kill me yesterday."

The general shrugged off Ash's defensive comments. "Please, Master Ketchum, rest assured that we are well-aware of your recent…troubles with the League. Our intelligence reports indicate that they have come to see you as a subversive and had thus ordered you to be shot on sight. However…" His amused smirk settled into a troubled frown. "…it has recently been learned that their orders have changed quite considerably. You are now to be captured alive, though for what purposes we have yet to ascertain."

"The bottom line is, don't immediately jump to the defensive, Ash," Misty warned him softly, pressing a hand against his uninjured arm. "We could really use some allies right now, and these guys hate the League as much as we do."

"Indeed. And that is why I originally allowed Agent Harrison to bring the two of you into our facilities; anyone on the run from the League must have some kind of moral conscience."

"Thanks," Ash noted sarcastically. Misty may have seemed quite at ease within the Opposition's headquarters, but years of being surrounded by treachery and corruption had afforded him a healthy, well-developed skepticism. And there was something about this operation that bothered him.

"You seem to be troubled, Master Ketchum."

He turned his attention back to the general who was now regarding him curiously, clearly not understanding why someone who had just nearly been gunned down by the League would not trust the organization's mortal enemy. "I…I'm just not sure I can really put too much stock in that whole 'My enemy's enemy is my friend' stuff. I've been betrayed far too many times to really trust something that vague. What if our ideals are worlds apart, huh?"

"Ash, listen to me…" Brock began, but he was cut off by a simple wave of the general's hand.

"Master Ketchum, I assure you that our goals are intrinsically the same," the general said in a soothing tone clearly adapted to consoling countless individuals with natural worries concerning the Opposition. "The League is an organization of unsurpassed evil and corruption and must be felled at any cost; this is the primary objective of the Opposition, and we will do all in our power to ensure that the League is finally destroyed. This is what you have longed to see occur since you first realized how truly malicious the League was, is it not?"

"…yeah."

"I understand your apprehension, Master Ketchum; it's to be expected given the cynicism bred into you after years of being led to believe that there was no hope in this world of escaping from the League's nefarious clutches. But rest assured--we will destroy them."

"General Konishi!"

Ash glanced across the room to see a mousy young woman holding a communicator to her ear running frantically towards them. "Sir, it's just been confirmed; the League's headquarters in Viridian City have been hit by the missile launched several minutes ago!"

A collective cheer erupted throughout the room, and Ash even felt a strange sense of relief washing over him at the possibility of finally being free from the evil that had hung over his head every day for the last five years. "D-does that mean that it's finally over?" he questioned carefully, gazing up at one of the screens that now displayed an image of flames licking at the steel-and-concrete structure he instantly recognized as the League's main headquarters.

The general laughed heartily and shook Ash's hand. "It's a start, son; if we're lucky, in a matter of days, the League will be completely destroyed…and you'll finally be free to do as you please."

The hesitant relief he had felt at the news now seemed to erupt into elation at the very idea that he could one day be free from the figurative shackles that had bound him to evil for the last five years. Ash felt tears beginning to prick his eyes, and he leaned down to share a kiss with the equally-delighted Misty.

"Sir? Casualty figures just came over the board. 846 dead, about three thousand more injured."

Ash's mind seemed to freeze in horror as the figure began to sink in; Misty's features, which had mere seconds ago been awash in relief and joy, were now absolutely horrified. He cast a glance towards Brock, who simply shook his head sadly, then turned angrily to the general. "General Konishi, how could this have happened!? Over eight hundred people have somehow died! Could the missile have somehow gone off-course or something? How could the Opposition have made such a grave miscalculation?"

The general's joyous smile never wavered, but instead of relieving Ash it now chilled him to the marrow. "My dear Master Ketchum," he said patiently, "I never said our objective was to protect the people, did I?"

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Ash let out a heavy sigh as he stared down upon the citizens of ViridianCitygoing about their daily lives. It had only been two months since he had been initiated as an official Pokemon Master, and already the inherent corruption that he hadn't even known to exist had begun to choke the proverbial life from him. God, was I really that naïve before? That innocent? As the thought crossed his mind, he gazed forlornly upon the unsuspecting people on the streets below.

It was sheer agony to see them engaged in the simplest tasks, and he quickly came to envy and despise them as literal representations of everything he had lost--innocence, naivety, humanness, and warmth. But though he found himself loathing them more and more each day, Ash soon found himself desperately wanting to shield these poor oblivious fools from the evil that had ensnared his unwitting self. It was already too late for him, but perhaps he could keep another person from falling prey to the League.

As time passed, they became his family of sorts--the loud housewife in the tenement nearby who argued daily with the street vendors over the prices of various goods, the little girl with the glittery hot-pink backpack who passed by this building presumably on her way home from school, the silent old man who sat at one of the tables of the sidewalk café and engaged himself in a solitary game of chess…they became a part of him, and he lived vicariously through them, experiencing the minutiae of their lives through his imagination compensating for what little he actually knew about them. Someday, this whole organization's going to hell, he thought one day as he smiled bitterly at the little girl attempting to feed a cracker to a stray puppy, and when that happens, I pray to God that I can keep you safe.

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Ash fought back the tears forming in his eyes and the bile rising to the back of his throat at the thought of so many innocent lives lost. And for what? The destruction of the League? He began to think that his initial conception was right; the League was just too goddamned powerful to take out, no matter how hard they tried. The only way to even rattle their cage a bit would be to forsake the lives of the innocents in an attempt to--

His heart clenched painfully as the slow sweep of the camera displaying footage of the wreckage that had once been the south side of Viridian City afforded him a glimpse of what had once been that little girl's backpack, now charred nearly beyond recognition.

Ash felt incomparable rage begin to course through his veins, his immeasurable anger akin only to that which he had felt when he had returned to the makeshift campsite to see Renjiro nearly drive a bullet through Misty's skull. "You miserable bastard," he found himself saying in a low, dangerous voice, barely even recognizing it as his own. "You denounce the League for being corrupt and destroying innocent lives, and then you turn right around and do the exact same fucking thing! How the hell can you possibly justify this!?"

"Ash…"

Misty's fearful tone beckoned him, but the general's words interrupted his thoughts. "Master Ketchum, honestly; such sentimental nonsense is quite out of place in war. The Opposition is concerned with restoring the balance of power." Ash found himself becoming more and more disturbed as the dangerous glint within the general's eyes intensified. "The whole world can go up in smoke for all we care; as long as the League is destroyed, that is all that matters. How do you think that such a supposedly 'rag-tag' operation as the Opposition came to be so refined? Quite simple actually--the rage fueling others and myself at being used so mercilessly by the League afforded us the necessary willpower to stop at nothing to destroy them."

"How could the League have 'used' an entire organization? The only time they really did that was with--"

"Ash!"

Ash's mind registered the frightening truth behind the general's words just as the terrified insistence in Misty's tone once again chilled his blood. It all made terrible sense now--their lack of concern for innocent lives, their anger towards the League, the nagging feeling that had plagued him since he first entered the central control room…

…and Misty's now calling attention to the all-too familiar insignia emblazoned upon the uniforms of a group of individuals now assembling at the far side of the room.

The Opposition was in reality nothing more than the remnants of Team Rocket.

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"Are you sure you have to leave?"

Ash couldn't help but feel slightly guilty at the sadness in Brock's tone as he saw them to the gates of the Opposition's headquarters. But after witnessing first-hand that the so-called 'Opposition' was in reality just as, if not more, malicious than the League, he and Misty had agreed that they were better off making it on their own, dangerous though it may be. "I'm afraid so, Brock. I just…" His mind drifted back to the memories of those smiling faces reminding him of everything he had lost; now that they had been destroyed with such contempt, it terrified him to think that this might indeed be a portent of his own fate. "…I think that we're probably safer on the outside."

"Hey, Brock?" Misty asked softly. "Why don't you come with us? I mean, we're not exactly the safest of people you could be with right now, but it's got to be better than staying with these…these…" An involuntary shudder ran up her spine as she recalled the live feed projecting those horrific images from the charred ruins of southern Viridian City. "…murderers."

Brock smiled sadly, placing a comforting hand upon each of their shoulders. "I've missed you two a lot, you know that? I mean, when we first learned that the two of you were killed, I couldn't even believe it. I didn't want to believe it." He laughed humorlessly. "But here we are together again. Just like old times, huh?"

Ash and Misty stared wordlessly at him, not comprehending the message behind his seemingly empty words.

He shook his head. "I can't come with you," he said simply, withdrawing his hands. "Ash, you know how about two and a half years ago the League instigated that whole crack-down on all the gym leaders? They gave us an ultimatum--submit or die. A lot of 'em chose the latter. As for me, they…" Brock seemed to be fighting back tears for a moment but quickly regained his composure. "Well, it doesn't really matter what they did. Anyway, the point is, I kind of 'disappeared'. They think that I'm still alive, but they're not entirely sure. Unbeknownst to them, I've been with the Opposition the entire time."

"But dammit, Brock, they're Team Rocket! We've despised them since the very beginning!" Ash asserted, attempting to sway his friend back to their side.

"Ash," he responded patiently. "The second I leave here, I'm a dead man. I've got a price on my head only beaten by the one on yours; got it?" He sighed heavily, then turned his gaze skyward. "Besides, I'd only be a liability to you guys, anyway. You've still got a chance to make it out there; it'll be rough going, but as long as you two are together, I don't think there's anything in this world that can stop you."

"Brock, what the hell did they do to you to make you give up like this?" Misty asked somewhat desperately.

Brock didn't answer; instead, he simply waved goodbye to them and started back towards the concrete building.

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The fire had long-since been extinguished. The mere thought of those fools at the Opposition having such arrogance as to believe that they could demolish the League with one blast was absolutely hysterical, and the members of the council had shared quite a hearty laugh over the situation once the source of the impact upon the building had been identified.

"But, my brethren," the Leader said amiably, leaning back in his chair a bit. "I have grown weary of such childish antics. Indeed, they have grown most tiresome." He motioned carelessly to a black-uniformed technician watching him expectantly from the far corner of the room.

"Fire."

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It sure was nice to see them again.

Brock rolled over in the narrow bed for the twelfth time, sleep continuing to elude him as his thoughts returned to his meeting with Ash and Misty. It had been wonderful to be reunited with the friends that he had long ago believed to be dead; the only drawback lay in the fact that it unfortunately brought long-suppressed memories to the forefront of his mind…memories that he had desperately tried to forget but continued to haunt him with a vengeance.

Had it only been two and a half years ago that that terrible decree had been issued, declaring that all gym masters must immediately report to League headquarters for assignment or else be killed? Brock remembered assuring his wife and his young daughter (had she even turned two at that point?) that there was nothing to fear, though he secretly wondered just how he could possibly escape his fate this time around. Had things been different, he and his fellow gym leader, Misty, would have concocted some scheme and managed to escape, rescuing Ash from the League's clutches as well. But Misty was dead, and Ash was too far gone to be saved. He would have to go at it alone.

It was the next day when they came. Brock still didn't know how they'd learned so quickly that he had no intentions of joining them; after all, the notice had explicitly stated that he had seventy-two hours to respond, and only forty-eight had passed. The images of his wife and daughter's bloodied forms lying prone upon the living room floor had been burned upon his retinas, and to this day he could not close his eyes without being reminded of that day, when he had returned home from work to discover the League agent turning from the corpses to hold him at gunpoint and insist that he come along without a struggle.

He'd never even held a gun before; in retrospect it must have been a combination of rage and adrenalin that had allowed him the strength to pry the gun from the agent's hand and drive a shot into his chest. For several minutes he stood there in a daze, the gun still held in his outstretched hands. Finally, when the realization of the act he had committed had finally sunk into his terrified mind, he flung the gun as far away from him as humanly possible and fled.

He'd been with the Opposition ever since.

And yet now Brock had come to learn that not only were Ash and Misty both alive, but they had reunited and were themselves now on the run from the League's wrath. The severity of their situation had brought back unwanted memories of the terrible act he had perpetrated in committing the murder of that League agent, and even though that same man had first murdered his wife and daughter, he couldn't bring himself to forgive his actions.

I guess this is the end of the line for me, Brock thought sadly, shutting his eyes. Things are only going to get worse from here, and there's nothing more I can do. Good luck, guys, and Godspeed. You're really gonna need it.

The building erupted into flames as the missile found its target.

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A cold breeze weaved its way throughout the flaming wreckage that had once been the headquarters of the Opposition. Smoldering rubble and charred corpses covered every inch of land as far as he could see, the overpowering stench of burned flesh permeating the night air.

Renjiro strode silently through the darkness as he surveyed the wreckage, the dancing flames casting twisted shadows across his stoic features. Wordlessly, he reached into one of the pockets of his jacket and extracted a cigarette. Stopping only to light the cigarette upon a flaming piece of debris, he removed a singed radio from the rubble and signaled to the League Airfield.

After about ten minutes, a helicopter finally arrived, and Renjiro silently climbed into the cramped cockpit, staring out into the night sky as he simply said, "Pallet Town."

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Ash and Misty continued silently along the twisting forest path for the better part of an hour, each deeply immersed within their own thoughts. Ash had never felt so sickened in his life than by the day's events, and he doubted he'd be able to sleep at all that night.

"Ash, there's nothing you could have done," Misty finally said as she observed Ash's troubled visage illuminated by the starry sky. "Even if you'd still been at headquarters, you probably would have been killed, too."

"I'm starting to wonder if maybe that wouldn't be a good thing." Ash turned his gaze to the moon shining above, avoiding Misty's disbelieving look.

"What?" she asked in a shocked voice. "H-how can you even say that?"

"Maybe I'm just tired of it all. Dammit, Misty, we're just two people fighting against a force of untold power. What do you think the odds are that we're actually going to win? I mean, we've got so many people up against us that it's only a matter of time before we're--"

His thoughts stopped abruptly at the feel of Misty's lips softly pressing against his, silencing his defeatist words. "We aren't fighting this to win," she said firmly, her eyes hard-set. "We're fighting so that we when we die, at least we'll be close to freedom. They won't be able to control us anymore, and we'll finally have escaped the hell they've kept us imprisoned in for the last five years." Angry tears assaulted her aquamarine eyes, and she fiercely pulled him down by the front of his shirt so that his gaze was focused solely upon her. "And if you're going to throw your life away now that we're so goddamned close, then do it now and stop pretending that you actually care that your life may mean more than anything to someone else!" She angrily pushed him away and turned her back to him, fighting back tears once more.

Ash felt as though his heart had been ripped in half at her pained words; on the surface, it seemed as though she was simply frustrated by the fact that he was close to conceding defeat, but he knew Misty far too well to allow himself to believe that her anger could be justified so simplistically. He suddenly remembered that over the past five years, despite feeling completely alone and isolated, he had at least had his mother, Professor Oak…hell, even Gary, when he wasn't acting like an ass. But Misty had been so heartlessly manipulated by the League that they all thought her dead, and so she had been forced to live a life of solitary misery, even being used in the most inhumanly horrific way possibly by that bastard Renjiro.

And now that she had finally been reunited with someone that she loved and loved her so dearly, he was being so heartless as to consider giving up? Ash mentally kicked himself for being so inconsiderate, then hesitantly reached out one hand and placed it gently upon her shoulder. "…I'm sorry, Mist. I promise that I won't give up, not when we're so close. We're in this together, remember?" He smiled half-heartedly.

Misty turned back to him, tears still glistening in her eyes as she embraced him and rested her head against his chest. "God, it's so hard, Ash. After everything that's happened…the League, Renjiro…how can we even be sure of anything anymore?"

Ash pulled her more tightly against his chest, wanting so desperately to keep anyone from ever hurting her but knowing all-too-well that it was too late to protect her from losing that innocence that had long since been viciously ripped away. He knew that any words of consolation he managed to conjure up would fail pathetically to comfort her, but… "Misty, there is exactly one thing in this world that I know I can be sure of, and that's you."

She remained silent, but slowly her sniffling sobs began to subside, and together they remained entwined in their desperate embrace as they awaited the coming dawn.

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"The total number of dead and injured continues to climb as rescue workers continue to work round-the-clock in their effort to find survivors…"

Delia Ketchum's heart continued to race as her terrified gaze remained frozen upon the television screen, watching as the news nets continued to report live from the ruins of southern Viridian City. The League's headquarters had somehow remained largely intact, but there were still reports of several League employees having been killed. "My little boy…" she whispered, oblivious to the fearful tears streaming down her cheeks.

She was momentarily torn from her panic as the doorbell rang. Delia deposited the box of tissues she had been clutching upon the sofa and moved to answer the door. "Y-yes?" she asked hesitantly, her mind frozen with fear as she observed the League's insignia upon the young man's jacket. "Oh my God, please tell me this isn't about Ash!"

He shook his head, hesitating for only a moment before saying, "I'm terribly sorry about this, ma'am, but this is something I have to do." Without even blinking, he pulled his gun from his waistband and fired.

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