Chapter no.13 Aftermath
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Adamos_Amet
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The sun was barely cresting over the horizon, its warm glow cutting through the early morning mist that hung over the dense jungle surrounding the Mt. Moon range. The air was cool and crisp, filled with the faint scent of wet earth and leaves. Austin pedaled his bike through the winding forest paths, his paper bag fluttering slightly in the breeze. He glanced down at his watch: 6:00 AM sharp.
He was over the moon.
The events of the past few hours played over in his mind, leaving a faint grin on his face. He had done it. Team Rocket's grip on Mt. Moon was shattered. The prisoners were free, running to Pewter City to alert the authorities. Soon enough, this place would be swarming with rangers and police officers, cleaning up what remained of Team Rocket's operation.
Austin's chest swelled with a sense of accomplishment. The thought of Arianna being dragged off to jail was satisfying. He could already picture Giovanni's fury as his executive's failure became public knowledge. If nothing else, this would force Team Rocket to lay low for a while, buying me time to strengthen myself.
But it wasn't just the victory that had him in high spirits—it was the loot. He had made out like a bandit.
Austin mentally tallied the haul once again: 20,000 Pokédollars, 20 spare Pokéballs, ten Boulder Badges, three Cerulean Badges, a Moon Stone, Leftovers, a Sharp Beak, and six TMs—Bide, Water Pulse, Rain Dance, Whirlwind, Bubble Beam, and Flash.
"Not bad for one night's work," he thought, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
Ahead, he saw a familiar figure waving at him. Christopher stood in the middle of the narrow trail, his Venonat standing beside him. The former Team Rocket grunt's expression lit up with relief when he saw Austin.
"Boss!" Christopher called, jogging up to meet him. "You did it, didn't you? You beat her?"
"Of course," Austin replied, his voice dripping with mock arrogance as he brought his bike to a halt. "Did you doubt me?"
Christopher pumped his fist in the air. "I knew you could do it! Damn, boss, you're a legend!"
Before Austin could respond, there was a sudden rumbling beneath their feet. Both of them froze, their eyes darting to the ground as it shook slightly. Then, with a burst of dirt and rocks, Miss Sandslash emerged, her claws glinting in the early morning light.
"Sandslash," she said firmly, nodding at the boy.
Austin chuckled and crouched down, meeting the mother Pokémon's gaze. "Of course, Miss Sandslash. How could I forget?"
He reached into his bag, pulling out the bundle he had prepared—a two-week supply of food he'd packed before coming to Mt. Moon. The bundle was wrapped in a makeshift blanket, sewn together from the shirts he had stripped from defeated Team Rocket grunts. He and Christopher tied the bundle securely, double-checking the knots before handing it to Sandslash.
The mother Pokémon sniffed the bundle, her sharp eyes scanning Austin as if to judge his sincerity. Finally, she gave a satisfied nod and hoisted the package over her back with ease.
"You really hold your end of the bargain," Christopher said, watching as Sandslash turned to leave.
"Of course I do," Austin replied, standing up and brushing dirt off his pants. "The last thing I want is to deal with an angry mother who worked her tail off to feed her kids. You take that away, and suddenly Team Rocket doesn't seem like such a big problem anymore."
Christopher nodded in agreement, watching as Sandslash disappeared into the undergrowth.
There was a moment of quiet between them before Christopher broke it.
"So… about the Eevee in my stomach."
"What about it?"
"Well… how do we get it out? Do I throw it up? Or do I have to—uh—you know… pass it?" Christopher asked, his tone somewhere between nervous and hopeful.
"Chris, it's just water."
There was a long silence. Christopher blinked, his expression blank as the words settled. Then, slowly, his face contorted into one of pure outrage. "You— You lied to me?! You made me believe I had an Eevee living in my stomach?"
"Relax," Austin said. "Think of it as a free detox cleanse."
"That's not how it works!" Christopher shouted, throwing his arms in the air. "Do you have any idea how stressed I was? I thought I was about to give birth to an Eevee!"
"Hey," Austin replied. "Could've been worse. I could've told you it was a Wailord."
Christopher froze, his face cycling through disbelief, anger, and resignation.
"You're a psychopath, boss!"
"Not my fault you're gullible," Austin said, ignoring Christopher's indignant spluttering. There was no time to waste; his Pokémon needed the Pokémon Center.
"Hand over your debit card," Austin said casually, his tone making it sound more like a request than a demand. "And strip."
Christopher groaned, muttering something under his breath about "evil geniuses," but complied nonetheless. He pulled out his wallet and handed the card to Austin, who took it with a nod.
As Christopher began unbuttoning his shirt, Austin smirked. "Surprised you're not putting up more of a fight."
The man shrugged, his shirt now half off. "Why would I? Even if my life isn't in your hands anymore, I saw what you can do. Considering you just defeated Arianna, I'd rather not piss you off."
"Is the debit card in your name?"
"No. It's in my dad's name."
"Does your dad know you work for Team Rocket?"
"My dad knows," Christopher admitted, his voice tinged with bitterness. "He hates it. Every time he sees me in this uniform, I can see it in his eyes—how much he wishes I'd never joined. But what can we do? My mom's treatment isn't cheap, and every day without it feels like another nail in her coffin. I took his card so that… if I didn't make it out, at least he could still get the money. It's my way of saying sorry—for everything."
"What's wrong with her?"
Christopher looked down, his expression darkening. "Blood cancer." He didn't elaborate at first, letting the words hang in the air like a lead weight. Finally, he added, "Stem cell transplants aren't cheap. And every day without one feels like she's slipping further away. I thought joining Team Rocket would solve it… but…"
"It didn't," Austin finished for him.
"Crime doesn't pay—not for people like me. You think Team Rocket's this big operation, full of rich masterminds, but for grunts? We're lucky if we can scrape enough to buy food. I joined thinking I'd climb the ranks, make enough to save her, but…" He gestured vaguely at himself, his voice cracking. "Look at me. I'm just another nobody, barely surviving, and she's slipping away."
"Is this how you saw your life turning out?"
"No," Christopher admitted quietly. His voice wavered, but he pushed forward, forcing himself to be honest. "But I told myself if I pretended long enough, if I played the role well enough, maybe I wouldn't feel it anymore. Maybe I wouldn't have to think about how wrong this all is. Deep down, I always knew… but as long as my mom stayed alive, I told myself it didn't matter."
"Even though I've got you tied to a tree, you're planning to escape, aren't you?" Austin said.
"Sharp as ever, huh?" Christopher replied with a wry smile.
Silence stretched between them.
"Think about it," Austin said. "If you ran, how quickly do you think Team Rocket would find you? Out of all the grunts who'll get captured by the police today, only your name would be missing. Do you want to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder?"
Christopher's lips parted slightly as the realization sank in. "No. I don't want that."
"Good," Austin said, stepping back to inspect the ropes one last time. "Then, like every other grunt on Mt. Moon, you'll be captured by the police and sent to prison. That's your way out."
Christopher frowned. "But… a lot of the grunts saw me helping you. Won't they rat me out?"
"Don't worry about that. I made sure to spread a story about having a companion—a Ditto disguised as a Rocket grunt. That should give you a good alibi. Just tell the police you were captured like everyone else and explain the Ditto story."
Christopher blinked. "You really thought of everything, didn't you?"
"I don't take chances," Austin replied, his tone clipped. He began packing his supplies, but Christopher's voice stopped him.
"Wait… why take my debit card then?"
Austin turned slightly, adjusting his bag as he spoke. "Simple. I'm going to deposit some money into your dad's account. Enough for your mom's treatment. When he visits you in prison, tell him what happened and make sure the money is used right."
"You'd do that? Why?"
"Let's just say… I've got a soft spot when it comes to family."
Christopher stared at him for a moment, the boy's words stirring something deep in his chest. "There was… 45k Pokédollars. That's how much I collected from all the grunts. I'm sorry, I—"
"You took 25k," Austin interrupted.
Christopher nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. The doctors said my mom's treatment will cost around 70k. I've managed to save up 15k over the months, but…" He hesitated. "That was the first time I'd ever seen so much money in one place. I… I couldn't stop myself."
"It still won't be enough," Austin said quietly.
"I know," Christopher murmured. "I'm hoping my dad can take out a loan to cover the rest. It's not guaranteed, but it's all I've got left to hope for."
Austin didn't miss a beat. "I'll deposit 30k."
Christopher's head snapped up, his breath hitching as the words sank in. "Thirty thousand?" he repeated. "That's… that's all the money you looted, plus your own…"
Austin nodded. "It'll be enough to cover what's left. Make sure it's used for her treatment."
Christopher's lips quivered, and before he could summon the words, tears spilled freely down his cheeks. His voice caught in his throat, choked by a wave of overwhelming emotion. He couldn't even thank the boy—he could barely breathe. All he could think, over and over, was that his mom would live.
From the corner of his eye, Austin spotted movement and turned to see Oddish peeking out from behind a tree. Its little body trembled as it cautiously stepped closer, its eyes fixated on its trainer.
"Is Oddish guarding the 25k?" Austin asked, his voice soft.
Christopher nodded.
Austin strode over, crouching down to meet the tiny Pokémon. He smiled faintly and patted Oddish on the head, offering it a berry from his pocket. "Good job, buddy," he murmured. Oddish chirped softly, nudging his hand before scurrying back to its trainer.
Straightening up, Austin swung a leg over the seat. "I guess this is goodbye."
"Wait!" Christopher called out. "Your name—what's your name?"
"Austin," the boy said after a moment. He knew it didn't matter. To the world, he was Ash Ketchum. This name wouldn't lead back to him. It was safe.
As Austin pedaled away, the sunlight breaking through the trees painted the world in soft hues of gold and green. The shadows of the forest seemed less heavy now, less suffocating.
"I don't know how long I'll be in prison…" Christopher's voice broke through the quiet morning air, trembling but steady with emotion. "But when I get out—no matter how long it takes—if you ever need me, for anything, I'll be there. You gave me a second chance, boss. I owe you my life, and I won't forget it. Just call me… and I'll come running."
Austin didn't turn back, his silhouette growing smaller with every rotation of the bike's wheels. The forest slowly swallowed him, the rustling leaves and birdsong returning to fill the quiet.
Christopher leaned his head back against the tree, the dampness of the bark pressing into his hair. His chest heaved with deep breaths as the sunlight warmed his face.
Everything's going to be alright
6:45 A.M.
Brock sat outside the Pewter City Gym, the crisp morning air clinging to his skin. The world was quiet, painted in soft hues of dawn. He sipped on a can of iced tea, savoring the rare moment of solitude. The city was still waking up, and for once, he felt like he could breathe. No challengers, no League business—just the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.
Then, the peace shattered.
A police siren screamed through the stillness, its wailing echo bouncing off the Gym walls. Red and blue lights flashed in the distance, and Brock shot to his feet, his heart thudding. A police cruiser skidded to a halt in front of the Gym, and Officer Jenny stepped out, her face pale and her movements hurried.
"Brock!" she called, urgency in every syllable. "There's been an attack at Mt. Moon."
"What?" he barely managed to say before another voice echoed his surprise. He turned and saw Flint stepping out from behind some bushes.
What's he doing here? Was he spying on me?
"Flint? Is that you?"
Flint chuckled nervously. "Y-yeah, it's me."
"I thought you were dead," Jenny said bluntly, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Brock's jaw tightened. Dead? He might as well have been.
Jenny shook her head, refocusing. "There's no time for this. We need to go now," she said, motioning toward the car. "I'll explain everything on the way."
Without a second thought, Brock moved, sliding into the passenger seat before Jenny could finish her sentence. "Drive," he said, his tone sharp.
His focus was already on Mt. Moon, his mind racing through the possibilities—wild Pokémon driven into a frenzy, rogue trainers fighting over rare resources, or a territorial conflict between Pokémon colonies spilling onto the public paths. But the thought of Flint lingered at the edge of his mind, gnawing at him like a persistent Rattata.
Jenny hesitated, her eyes flicking between Brock and Flint. The tension was thick, almost palpable.
"Get in," Brock said, the words bitter on his tongue, but he forced them out.
The people at Mt. Moon needed help. The city needed reassurance. And no matter how much it grated on him, they needed every capable trainer.
Flint's eyes widened in surprise as he climbed into the back seat.
Jenny slammed her foot on the gas, and the car roared forward. The city blurred past as they sped toward Mt. Moon, the siren wailing, cutting through the early morning calm like a warning to the world. Brock stared at the horizon, his jaw set. He would deal with his father later. Right now, there were people who needed him.
By the time they reached Mt. Moon, the scene was pure chaos.
The early morning light cast long shadows across the base of the mountain, where police officers, Pokémon Rangers, and medical teams swarmed like a disturbed Beedrill hive. Reporters crowded every available space, microphones thrust forward like weapons as they bombarded the arriving vehicles with questions. The air was thick with tension, punctuated by the sounds of injured Pokémon crying out and the distant rumble of emergency vehicles.
Jenny punched the horn, the sharp blast cutting through the cacophony. The reporters parted just enough for the car to pull in. The moment the vehicle stopped, Brock stepped out, only to be met with an onslaught.
"Brock! What can you tell us about the attack?"
"Is it true wild Pokémon were involved?"
"Do you have any comment on reports of a vigilante?"
"What's the response from the League?"
"How many are injured? Are there fatalities?"
Brock's head pounded as the questions came at him from every direction. The reporters' voices blurred into a single overwhelming noise, their flashing cameras blinding him with every step. He ignored them, forcing his way toward the police line. Focus. Don't let them distract you.
The sight beyond the reporters turned his stomach.
Stretchers lined the area, filled with injured trainers and Pokémon alike. Medics worked frantically, applying potions and bandages while issuing orders to each other.
As he neared the police line, a familiar voice rose above the commotion. "Brock, good to see you."
Turning, Brock spotted Greg, the Superintendent of the Pokémon Rangers. Broad-shouldered with an air of authority, Greg's presence commanded respect even in chaos. Before Brock could say a word, Greg closed the distance and swept him up in a bone-crushing bear hug, lifting him slightly off the ground.
"Good to see you too," Brock managed, his voice muffled against Greg's shoulder. "But could you put me down before the media spins this into a story about you slacking off on the job?"
"What, I can't hug my nephew?"
"I wouldn't put it past them," a voice cut through. Flint.
The temperature between the three shifted instantly. Greg's jovial expression hardened as he turned toward Brock's father, his gaze darkening. Brock could practically feel the tension radiating off both men. He acted quickly, pinching Greg's arm just enough to break his focus.
"The media's here," Brock muttered. "Not the time."
Greg exhaled slowly. His voice dropped to a low growl as he placed a heavy hand on Flint's shoulder. "After this is over, Flint, we'll talk. Best friendo."
The words dripped with something more than sarcasm—a promise that nothing about this reunion would be easy. Flint only nodded, his expression unreadable. He turned toward the reporters swarming the scene like Spearow drawn to a carcass.
"I'll handle the media," Flint offered. "You two focus on the situation."
Brock didn't answer. He just watched as Flint approached the reporters. A ripple moved through the crowd as someone recognized him.
"Wait, aren't you The Boulder?"
Flint snorted, slipping into his old persona like it was a comfortable coat. "That's right! The Boulder is back, baby," he declared, his booming voice carrying over the crowd.
"Where have you been all these years?"
"The Boulder is conflicted… on whether to tell you that information."
His father was putting on a show, distracting the press from the real issue. It was working, but it didn't make it any less irritating. Greg, still watching, muttered under his breath, "You know your mom came up with that nickname, right?"
"I didn't know that," Brock replied absently, his attention shifting as Greg motioned him away from the media frenzy.
"Jenny gave me the basics, but what happened in there?"
Greg sighed, running a hand over his face. "It's a mess. Team Rocket has always been dismissed as just another poaching gang—more organized than most, sure, but still just thieves. But now they pull this? Taking over ranger posts, kidnapping trainers, and holding them as prisoners? That changes things, politically and practically."
Brock frowned. "How so?"
Greg's tone became grave. "Kidnapping licensed trainers is a whole different ballgame. Up until now, they've stayed under the radar—sticking to theft and poaching, stuff that doesn't draw too much attention from law enforcement. But holding trainers hostage? That's bold. And it puts the Rangers directly in the spotlight. It forces accountability."
"And what does that mean for the Rangers?"
"It means scrutiny. Investigations. Pressure from cities, local governments, and anyone who thinks this could happen again. We're going to be questioned at every level—how this happened, why we didn't see the signs, and why it wasn't stopped sooner. Heads will roll, Brock. And if we don't manage the narrative, it won't just be Team Rocket's reputation that takes a hit—it'll be ours."
Brock nodded slowly. "What about this vigilante I keep hearing about?"
Greg shook his head. "Gone before we arrived. Age unknown. Height described as that of a ten-year-old. We only know some of his Pokémon."
"What do we know?"
Greg sighed. "The kid had a Rattata, Pikachu, Eevee, and Spearow. There's evidence he had a Pokémon capable of digging through solid rock—possibly a Sandslash. From what we've pieced together, he mapped out the entire mountain, ambushed most of the grunts, and…" Greg hesitated, his voice lowering. "He brutally overpowered the leader."
"How brutal?"
"Brutal enough that the leader is now being transported to the ER alongside her Pokémon. She's in critical condition, Brock. And it's not just her. An entire Zubat colony was disturbed, dozens of stolen Pokémon are in disarray, and we found grunts tied up. They're shaken, injured, and completely out of it."
Brock's thoughts spiraled. A kid? With a roster like that? His mind briefly drifted to Ash Ketchum. Boy, had that kid left an impression on him. But he shook his head.
Ash was barely a month into his journey. No way was he taking down an entire Team Rocket operation. That was just impossible, even if the kid was a prodigy.
"What was Team Rocket even after?"
"From the grunts we've interrogated, we've pieced together that Team Rocket was after an Eevee. Not just any Eevee—it had been experimented on. According to them, this Eevee had the ability to evolve into Vaporeon, Flareon, and Jolteon at will."
Brock's mind immediately clicked the pieces together. The vigilante… his motive was to protect his Eevee.
Greg nodded. "That's what we're thinking. He went to extreme lengths to keep it out of Team Rocket's hands. Judging by the chaos he left behind, this wasn't just some spur-of-the-moment decision. He planned every step, all to safeguard that Eevee."
"What's the next move?" Brock asked, his voice quieter now.
"Officially? Damage control," Greg said. "The Rangers are already working to protect their image. They'll spin the story to focus on the vigilante angle—hero or anti-hero, it doesn't matter. The media will eat it up. It buys us time to clean up the mess without losing public trust."
"And unofficially?"
Greg sighed, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He didn't light one, just toyed with the box in his hands. "Unofficially, we're trying to figure out who this kid is and why he went after Team Rocket like this. If we don't, someone else will. Either way, we need to get ahead of it."
Brock thought for a moment. "You think this could escalate?"
"If we don't handle this properly? Absolutely. But even now, this situation has already escalated in ways that are… worrying. Team Rocket is going to regroup, no doubt. And the fear this whole incident has sown—among civilians, trainers, and even the Rangers—it's a powder keg waiting to explode."
"What exactly are we looking at here?"
Greg hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "The G-Force is getting involved."
Brock's head snapped up, his expression one of pure shock. "The G-Force? Dragon Master Lance?!"
"Yeah. An Eevee that's been experimented on—an Eevee that can switch between Vaporeon, Flareon, and Jolteon at will—that's not something you can just sweep under the rug. And with the number of people who saw it in action? We can't silence that kind of information, Brock. Word is already leaking out, and if this is a possibility..."
"The demand for that kind of experimentation on the black market," Brock said, finishing the thought. "It's going to skyrocket."
"Exactly," Greg said, his tone grim. "It's not just Team Rocket anymore. We're talking about creating a ripple effect that could reach far beyond them. Other criminal organizations, independent scientists, people with enough money to buy power they don't understand. The implications are... terrifying."
"And if the G-Force is involved... you think the government is going to step in?"
"They have to," Greg said simply. "The idea of genetically altering Pokémon like this? They'll want to understand it, regulate it—or worse, weaponize it. Either way, this isn't just a local problem anymore. It's national. Maybe even global."
"This is just the beginning," Brock said quietly, his voice heavy with the weight of realization.
Greg didn't respond. He didn't need to. His silence was all the confirmation Brock needed.
[Pewter City - Pokémon Center Communication Room]
Austin's fingers moved quickly over the phone's buttons as he dialed the Viridian City Pokémon Center, leaving a brief voicemail before switching immediately to a more personal call. Dealing with Delia right now… yeah, that was going to be tough.
The events at Mt. Moon were all over the media, plastered across every headline, turning the entire region into a hotbed of gossip and speculation. For someone like Delia, who was already overly protective, this was the worst-case scenario. Her son—her pride and joy—was out there in the middle of it all. Add Gary to the mix, and it was no surprise she was a wreck.
The call connected, and he didn't even get a chance to say "hello" before her sobs reached him through the receiver.
"Mom," Austin said softly, his voice barely cutting through her crying. "Hey, it's me."
She didn't respond right away, letting her emotions pour out. Between her sniffles and shaky breaths, fragments of her worries slipped through—how terrifying the news was, how she feared the worst, how the thought of him being caught in the chaos nearly broke her.
He stayed silent, letting her vent while his mind wandered. Should I feel guilty? Maybe. But he didn't. Not exactly. What he felt was exhaustion—a bone-deep weariness that never seemed to go away. It was like running a marathon with no finish line, always a step ahead of disaster but never far enough to rest.
"I'm fine. Really," he said, finally cutting in. "No injuries, no scars, not even a scratch. I didn't even go to Mt. Moon. I was making sure that all my underwear is clean."
That got a shaky laugh out of her, though he winced at his own joke.
She sniffled, her voice soft but still tinged with fear. "Just… promise me that you are safe, okay?"
"I promise," he said, meaning it this time. He glanced at the flashing notification of another incoming call. "Look, I've got someone else on the line, but I'll call you again soon. I promise."
Her sigh came through the receiver, heavy and filled with a mother's endless worry. "Okay, sweetie. Just… don't make me wait too long."
"I won't," he said, switching over to the next call before her words could twist any tighter around his heart.
The moment Nurse Joy from Viridian appeared on the screen, her usual professionalism was undercut by a wry smile. "Well, looks like you've been busy, Bag Boy," she said, her tone dripping with amusement. "Was Mt. Moon also the darkness that shaped you?"
Austin blushed, the memory of that ill-advised distraction attempt flooding back. "I regret ever using that Bane speech," he muttered.
"Regret or not, it's stuck now," she teased, before her tone softened. "So, what can I do for you, hero?"
"I'm sure you've seen the news about Mt. Moon."
"In passing," she admitted. "But the reports are vague—lots of speculation, not much substance. What's really going on?"
He gave her a quick rundown, carefully avoiding the bloodier details. By the time he finished, her smile had faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown.
"So, you need me to treat your Pokémon?"
"Yeah," he admitted. "Low-key, though. Too many questions might lead Team Rocket straight to me."
"That's smart, but have you thought about how much of your trail is already traceable? The Viridian Center has your Pokémon's data. You were also first spotted here. If Team Rocket's serious, they could piece things together."
Austin's stomach dropped. "I hadn't thought of that…"
"Relax," she said. "I already scrubbed your records from the Viridian database. Even if someone tries to dig, they won't find anything linking you here."
Relief washed over him like a wave. "You're a lifesaver. How long will the check-up take?"
"An hour. Just send them via the teleporter," Nurse Joy replied. "I'll keep you updated."
As the call ended, Austin stared at the phone for a moment, letting the weight of everything settle. His thoughts swirled with fragments of plans and concerns, but one thing stood out: Gary. Dialing Professor Oak's lab, he was greeted by the assistant, who quickly explained that the professor was already en route to Pewter City to check on Gary personally.
Guess I'll check up on Gary, Austin thought, setting the phone down. His eyes wandered to the teleporter. The technology of this world still baffled him. Most of it seemed stuck in the '90s, yet there were pockets of sci-fi-level advancements
What now? he wondered, desperate for a distraction until Nurse Joy called him back.
An hour later, Austin walked into the Pokémon Center, his nerves slightly calmer after completing an errand. Depositing some of the money had provided a brief reprieve. No way was he depositing the full 75k all at once—that kind of activity raised too many questions.
Sitting back at the communication terminal, Austin noticed something off about Nurse Joy's expression.
"What kind of situation were you in?" she asked, her voice carrying an edge.
"Life-threatening!" he replied, leaning forward.
She sighed heavily, rubbing her temples as though trying to process the enormity of it all. "Well, I've got bad news and good news. Which do you want first?"
"Which one takes longer?" Austin asked. He needed a moment to brace himself.
"The bad news," she admitted, hesitation creeping into her tone.
"Good news it is."
Nurse Joy allowed a faint smirk. "The good news is that your Pokémon can make a full recovery. And, by the way, nice job treating Pikachu. Honestly, you did better than most trainers I've seen. If being a hero doesn't work out, you could always work for me."
"I just cleaned his wounds and slapped on a Max Potion. Nothing special," he said, waving it off. "Plus, I'd rather not end up like your intern."
Her smirk widened, laced with a hint of an inside joke. "I promise, I'd treat you slightly better than my ex-husband."
They both laughed, the tension lifting momentarily, but Austin could feel the storm of bad news brewing.
"The bad news?" he asked, his voice quieter.
Nurse Joy's smile faded, replaced by a somber expression. "The bad news is that all your Pokémon are in serious condition."
She began reviewing her notes, her tone turning clinical. "Let's start with Pikachu. He sustained deep lacerations across his skin, and while the Max Potion sealed the wounds externally, it didn't treat the underlying trauma to his nerve endings and muscle tissue. Additionally, Pikachu's electrical reserves are dangerously depleted, likely due to overexertion in combat. If this isn't managed properly, it could lead to nerve damage or long-term energy instability."
Austin swallowed hard. "What's the solution?"
"First, we'll apply a specialized nerve-soothing salve to repair the damage beneath the surface and prevent scarring along the nerve pathways. Pikachu will require daily therapeutic massages to relax strained muscles and improve circulation. For his energy depletion, we'll put him on a high-protein, high-nutrient diet paired with controlled exposure to electricity using a calibrated electrical pad for Electric-types. Lastly, he'll need at least a week of strict rest—no battling, no high-energy activities. I'll oversee the first few sessions here, but it'll be up to you to enforce the rest once you're back on the road."
"Got it. What about the others?" he asked, bracing himself.
Nurse Joy's expression shifted, and he knew they were moving on to the harder cases.
"Rattata, on the other hand," she said, her voice heavier, "sustained significant injuries. The bite from Arbok left deep puncture wounds across her back, and the venom caused localized tissue damage. On top of that, the burn marks from Fire Fang further aggravated the area. You cleaned and stabilized her well, but the damage goes deeper than what a Potion can fix."
"How bad is it?" Austin's voice was barely above a whisper.
"We'll administer an antivenom flush to neutralize lingering traces of the Arbok's venom. After that, I'll treat the burned tissue with a regenerative ointment to promote healing and reduce scarring. Unfortunately, because of the severity of the burns and puncture wounds, we'll need to shave the affected area to clean and treat the injuries. She'll also need painkillers and anti-inflammatory medication for internal swelling and discomfort. While the wounds will heal, her use of the Guts ability pushed her body beyond its limits, causing significant muscle strain. Without enough rest, she could be more susceptible to future injuries."
"How long will it take?"
"Two weeks minimum. And absolutely no battling during that time."
Austin exhaled slowly. At least there was a plan.
"Lastly, we need to talk about Spearow," Nurse Joy said, her gaze sharp. "To be honest, if I didn't know you, I'd have to question your intentions as a trainer. What's happened to Spearow borders on abuse."
"Nurse Joy… I would never."
"Let me ask you this: how many Badges have you used on Spearow?"
"Eight on Spearow," Austin admitted after a pause, "and two on Rattata."
"That explains a lot," she muttered, shaking her head.
"Explains what?"
"A normal Spearow weighs about two kilograms. Do you want to guess how much your Spearow weighs now?"
"I don't know."
"Forty kilograms," she said bluntly.
Austin's heart stopped. "That's impossible."
"Not impossible—just unnatural. The Boulder Badges drastically increased Spearow's muscle mass, but at a cost. The weight gain is putting immense strain on its body. Spearow's hollow bones are designed for flight, but at 40 kilograms? Flight is nearly impossible. Worse, this excessive weight is compromising its skeletal structure. It's not if Spearow suffers a fracture or injury—it's when."
Austin felt sick, guilt gnawing at him, but Nurse Joy wasn't done.
"The biggest issue," she continued, "is Spearow's heart. It's not built to support such a massive body. Carrying this extra weight is overwhelming its cardiovascular system. If we don't address this soon, Spearow could develop heart failure. Its lifespan could be reduced to less than a year."
He covered his face with his hands, his stomach churning. What have I done? He thought he was making Spearow stronger, but instead, he'd been pushing it toward its breaking point. Toward death.
Nurse Joy's voice softened. "I know you didn't mean for this to happen. But this is the reality now."
Austin lowered his hands, his voice trembling. "What do we do? How do we fix this?"
"There are two options," she explained. "The first is surgery. We'd remove some of the excess muscle mass from the badge enhancements. It's invasive, but it would immediately relieve the strain on Spearow's heart and bones."
"Surgery…" Austin flinched. "What's the risk?"
"Surgery is always risky," Nurse Joy admitted. "While Spearow is stronger than most, the procedure is complex, and there's always a chance of complications. But it's a proven method—many wealthy trainers who overuse badges or supplements have had to resort to it."
"This is... common?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Nurse Joy said, her expression hardening. "Many wealthy trainers—or those who think they can shortcut their way to success—use both legal and illegal enhancements on their Pokémon. They see it as a fast track to glory, but more often than not, it ruins their Pokémon in the process."
Austin cringed, guilt settling heavier on his shoulders.
"What's the second option?"
Nurse Joy's eyes softened, but there was a flicker of something unusual there.
"The second option is riskier. Most trainers—or even medical professionals—don't consider it. But in Spearow's case, because of its unusual resilience, I think it might be worth trying."
"What is it?"
Nurse Joy hesitated for a moment before answering. "Becoming an Alpha Pokémon."
Austin blinked, staring at her like she'd just started speaking a foreign language.
"Pardon."
"Alpha Pokémon," she repeated patiently. "Have you ever heard of them?"
"No... ma'am."
"In the wild, there are rare Pokémon—larger, stronger, and more dominant than their usual counterparts. They're called Alpha Pokémon. These creatures aren't just bigger; they're physically superior in almost every way. They're extremely rare and often considered the apex of their species."
Austin stared at her, his mind racing to comprehend what she was saying. "So... you're telling me Spearow could become one of these Alphas?"
"It's possible," Nurse Joy said with a small, measured nod. "Spearow's condition is unique. Its enhanced body mass and increased bone density, combined with its natural resilience, make it a candidate. But the process isn't guaranteed. Evolution is a critical trigger point, and if handled correctly, it could stabilize Spearow's condition while pushing it to Alpha status."
"Just like that?"
"Yes," Nurse Joy confirmed. "When a Spearow evolves, its body mass normally increases dramatically—from about 2 kilograms to around 38 kilograms. But in Spearow's case, because of the enhancements, we estimate it could grow even larger as an Alpha."
"How much larger?"
Nurse Joy hummed, doing some mental math. "Based on Spearow's current weight and its expected growth patterns, I'd estimate around nine feet tall with a wingspan of approximately twenty-eight feet."
Austin shot out of his chair, his hands slamming onto the counter. "Jesus Christ!" He could barely process it. That was no longer a bird—it was a flying tank.
Nurse Joy raised an eyebrow at his outburst but continued calmly. "It's a massive change, both physically and behaviorally. Alpha Pokémon are not only larger but also more aggressive and more difficult to control."
Austin ran a hand through his hair, his brain spinning. "I mean... Spearow would probably love being an Alpha," he muttered. "But—wait—how do I even handle something that huge? Do I need a bigger PokéBall? Do I have to buy special food? Where am I even going to keep it?"
Nurse Joy gave him a knowing smile. "That's the price of responsibility, hero. But if you're willing to take it on, Spearow could thrive."
Austin rubbed his temples, already feeling the weight of what he was agreeing to. "Okay," he said, finally looking up at her. "What do we do next?"
"First, we'll prepare Spearow for the evolution. That means closely monitoring its condition, adjusting its training to minimize strain, and providing it with a specialized diet to stabilize its current mass. The goal is to ensure a smooth transition into Alpha status without putting too much strain on its heart or skeletal system."
"And if it doesn't work?"
Nurse Joy's expression turned serious. "If it doesn't work, we'll have to fall back on the surgical option to reduce its body mass. But based on Spearow's current condition, I think the Alpha route is its best chance."
Austin nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in.
"I want to talk to Spearow about this before moving forward."
"Your choice, hero. Just make sure you're both on the same page. In the meantime, I'll get started with the treatment for the rest of your Pokémon. They're tough little fighters, but they need some serious care."
"Thank you."
As the call ended, Austin leaned back in his chair, the room falling into an uneasy silence.
"...This is going to bankrupt me," he muttered under his breath. He could already imagine Spearow's reaction when he explained the Alpha option. That little firecracker of a bird would be over the moon about the idea, no doubt about it. There'd be no stopping him.
Austin let out a tired sigh, a small smile creeping onto his face despite everything. "Guess we're all in now!"
Author Note:
Well, that was certainly a fun chapter, wouldn't you agree?
So, what did you guys think of Christopher as a character? Do you want to see him in the future as Austin's goon?
Also, how do you feel about Austin getting an Alpha Fearow? For those wondering, I added this as a response to the feedback about Pidgeot being able to mega evolve. Since Spearow doesn't have that option, I decided to give it a unique power-up instead—Alpha Fearow! I think it adds a nice twist and helps Spearow stand out as something truly special.
Thank you, as always, for your incredible support and for taking the time to read my work. Your feedback keeps me motivated, so let me know what you think in the comments.
Wishing you a blessed and fantastic day ahead! Keep being awesome, and I'll see you in the next chapter!
He was over the moon.
The events of the past few hours played over in his mind, leaving a faint grin on his face. He had done it. Team Rocket's grip on Mt. Moon was shattered. The prisoners were free, running to Pewter City to alert the authorities. Soon enough, this place would be swarming with rangers and police officers, cleaning up what remained of Team Rocket's operation.
Austin's chest swelled with a sense of accomplishment. The thought of Arianna being dragged off to jail was satisfying. He could already picture Giovanni's fury as his executive's failure became public knowledge. If nothing else, this would force Team Rocket to lay low for a while, buying me time to strengthen myself.
But it wasn't just the victory that had him in high spirits—it was the loot. He had made out like a bandit.
Austin mentally tallied the haul once again: 20,000 Pokédollars, 20 spare Pokéballs, ten Boulder Badges, three Cerulean Badges, a Moon Stone, Leftovers, a Sharp Beak, and six TMs—Bide, Water Pulse, Rain Dance, Whirlwind, Bubble Beam, and Flash.
"Not bad for one night's work," he thought, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
Ahead, he saw a familiar figure waving at him. Christopher stood in the middle of the narrow trail, his Venonat standing beside him. The former Team Rocket grunt's expression lit up with relief when he saw Austin.
"Boss!" Christopher called, jogging up to meet him. "You did it, didn't you? You beat her?"
"Of course," Austin replied, his voice dripping with mock arrogance as he brought his bike to a halt. "Did you doubt me?"
Christopher pumped his fist in the air. "I knew you could do it! Damn, boss, you're a legend!"
Before Austin could respond, there was a sudden rumbling beneath their feet. Both of them froze, their eyes darting to the ground as it shook slightly. Then, with a burst of dirt and rocks, Miss Sandslash emerged, her claws glinting in the early morning light.
"Sandslash," she said firmly, nodding at the boy.
Austin chuckled and crouched down, meeting the mother Pokémon's gaze. "Of course, Miss Sandslash. How could I forget?"
He reached into his bag, pulling out the bundle he had prepared—a two-week supply of food he'd packed before coming to Mt. Moon. The bundle was wrapped in a makeshift blanket, sewn together from the shirts he had stripped from defeated Team Rocket grunts. He and Christopher tied the bundle securely, double-checking the knots before handing it to Sandslash.
The mother Pokémon sniffed the bundle, her sharp eyes scanning Austin as if to judge his sincerity. Finally, she gave a satisfied nod and hoisted the package over her back with ease.
"You really hold your end of the bargain," Christopher said, watching as Sandslash turned to leave.
"Of course I do," Austin replied, standing up and brushing dirt off his pants. "The last thing I want is to deal with an angry mother who worked her tail off to feed her kids. You take that away, and suddenly Team Rocket doesn't seem like such a big problem anymore."
Christopher nodded in agreement, watching as Sandslash disappeared into the undergrowth.
There was a moment of quiet between them before Christopher broke it.
"So… about the Eevee in my stomach."
"What about it?"
"Well… how do we get it out? Do I throw it up? Or do I have to—uh—you know… pass it?" Christopher asked, his tone somewhere between nervous and hopeful.
"Chris, it's just water."
There was a long silence. Christopher blinked, his expression blank as the words settled. Then, slowly, his face contorted into one of pure outrage. "You— You lied to me?! You made me believe I had an Eevee living in my stomach?"
"Relax," Austin said. "Think of it as a free detox cleanse."
"That's not how it works!" Christopher shouted, throwing his arms in the air. "Do you have any idea how stressed I was? I thought I was about to give birth to an Eevee!"
"Hey," Austin replied. "Could've been worse. I could've told you it was a Wailord."
Christopher froze, his face cycling through disbelief, anger, and resignation.
"You're a psychopath, boss!"
"Not my fault you're gullible," Austin said, ignoring Christopher's indignant spluttering. There was no time to waste; his Pokémon needed the Pokémon Center.
"Hand over your debit card," Austin said casually, his tone making it sound more like a request than a demand. "And strip."
Christopher groaned, muttering something under his breath about "evil geniuses," but complied nonetheless. He pulled out his wallet and handed the card to Austin, who took it with a nod.
As Christopher began unbuttoning his shirt, Austin smirked. "Surprised you're not putting up more of a fight."
The man shrugged, his shirt now half off. "Why would I? Even if my life isn't in your hands anymore, I saw what you can do. Considering you just defeated Arianna, I'd rather not piss you off."
"Is the debit card in your name?"
"No. It's in my dad's name."
"Does your dad know you work for Team Rocket?"
"My dad knows," Christopher admitted, his voice tinged with bitterness. "He hates it. Every time he sees me in this uniform, I can see it in his eyes—how much he wishes I'd never joined. But what can we do? My mom's treatment isn't cheap, and every day without it feels like another nail in her coffin. I took his card so that… if I didn't make it out, at least he could still get the money. It's my way of saying sorry—for everything."
"What's wrong with her?"
Christopher looked down, his expression darkening. "Blood cancer." He didn't elaborate at first, letting the words hang in the air like a lead weight. Finally, he added, "Stem cell transplants aren't cheap. And every day without one feels like she's slipping further away. I thought joining Team Rocket would solve it… but…"
"It didn't," Austin finished for him.
"Crime doesn't pay—not for people like me. You think Team Rocket's this big operation, full of rich masterminds, but for grunts? We're lucky if we can scrape enough to buy food. I joined thinking I'd climb the ranks, make enough to save her, but…" He gestured vaguely at himself, his voice cracking. "Look at me. I'm just another nobody, barely surviving, and she's slipping away."
"Is this how you saw your life turning out?"
"No," Christopher admitted quietly. His voice wavered, but he pushed forward, forcing himself to be honest. "But I told myself if I pretended long enough, if I played the role well enough, maybe I wouldn't feel it anymore. Maybe I wouldn't have to think about how wrong this all is. Deep down, I always knew… but as long as my mom stayed alive, I told myself it didn't matter."
"Even though I've got you tied to a tree, you're planning to escape, aren't you?" Austin said.
"Sharp as ever, huh?" Christopher replied with a wry smile.
Silence stretched between them.
"Think about it," Austin said. "If you ran, how quickly do you think Team Rocket would find you? Out of all the grunts who'll get captured by the police today, only your name would be missing. Do you want to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder?"
Christopher's lips parted slightly as the realization sank in. "No. I don't want that."
"Good," Austin said, stepping back to inspect the ropes one last time. "Then, like every other grunt on Mt. Moon, you'll be captured by the police and sent to prison. That's your way out."
Christopher frowned. "But… a lot of the grunts saw me helping you. Won't they rat me out?"
"Don't worry about that. I made sure to spread a story about having a companion—a Ditto disguised as a Rocket grunt. That should give you a good alibi. Just tell the police you were captured like everyone else and explain the Ditto story."
Christopher blinked. "You really thought of everything, didn't you?"
"I don't take chances," Austin replied, his tone clipped. He began packing his supplies, but Christopher's voice stopped him.
"Wait… why take my debit card then?"
Austin turned slightly, adjusting his bag as he spoke. "Simple. I'm going to deposit some money into your dad's account. Enough for your mom's treatment. When he visits you in prison, tell him what happened and make sure the money is used right."
"You'd do that? Why?"
"Let's just say… I've got a soft spot when it comes to family."
Christopher stared at him for a moment, the boy's words stirring something deep in his chest. "There was… 45k Pokédollars. That's how much I collected from all the grunts. I'm sorry, I—"
"You took 25k," Austin interrupted.
Christopher nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. The doctors said my mom's treatment will cost around 70k. I've managed to save up 15k over the months, but…" He hesitated. "That was the first time I'd ever seen so much money in one place. I… I couldn't stop myself."
"It still won't be enough," Austin said quietly.
"I know," Christopher murmured. "I'm hoping my dad can take out a loan to cover the rest. It's not guaranteed, but it's all I've got left to hope for."
Austin didn't miss a beat. "I'll deposit 30k."
Christopher's head snapped up, his breath hitching as the words sank in. "Thirty thousand?" he repeated. "That's… that's all the money you looted, plus your own…"
Austin nodded. "It'll be enough to cover what's left. Make sure it's used for her treatment."
Christopher's lips quivered, and before he could summon the words, tears spilled freely down his cheeks. His voice caught in his throat, choked by a wave of overwhelming emotion. He couldn't even thank the boy—he could barely breathe. All he could think, over and over, was that his mom would live.
From the corner of his eye, Austin spotted movement and turned to see Oddish peeking out from behind a tree. Its little body trembled as it cautiously stepped closer, its eyes fixated on its trainer.
"Is Oddish guarding the 25k?" Austin asked, his voice soft.
Christopher nodded.
Austin strode over, crouching down to meet the tiny Pokémon. He smiled faintly and patted Oddish on the head, offering it a berry from his pocket. "Good job, buddy," he murmured. Oddish chirped softly, nudging his hand before scurrying back to its trainer.
Straightening up, Austin swung a leg over the seat. "I guess this is goodbye."
"Wait!" Christopher called out. "Your name—what's your name?"
"Austin," the boy said after a moment. He knew it didn't matter. To the world, he was Ash Ketchum. This name wouldn't lead back to him. It was safe.
As Austin pedaled away, the sunlight breaking through the trees painted the world in soft hues of gold and green. The shadows of the forest seemed less heavy now, less suffocating.
"I don't know how long I'll be in prison…" Christopher's voice broke through the quiet morning air, trembling but steady with emotion. "But when I get out—no matter how long it takes—if you ever need me, for anything, I'll be there. You gave me a second chance, boss. I owe you my life, and I won't forget it. Just call me… and I'll come running."
Austin didn't turn back, his silhouette growing smaller with every rotation of the bike's wheels. The forest slowly swallowed him, the rustling leaves and birdsong returning to fill the quiet.
Christopher leaned his head back against the tree, the dampness of the bark pressing into his hair. His chest heaved with deep breaths as the sunlight warmed his face.
Everything's going to be alright
6:45 A.M.
Brock sat outside the Pewter City Gym, the crisp morning air clinging to his skin. The world was quiet, painted in soft hues of dawn. He sipped on a can of iced tea, savoring the rare moment of solitude. The city was still waking up, and for once, he felt like he could breathe. No challengers, no League business—just the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.
Then, the peace shattered.
A police siren screamed through the stillness, its wailing echo bouncing off the Gym walls. Red and blue lights flashed in the distance, and Brock shot to his feet, his heart thudding. A police cruiser skidded to a halt in front of the Gym, and Officer Jenny stepped out, her face pale and her movements hurried.
"Brock!" she called, urgency in every syllable. "There's been an attack at Mt. Moon."
"What?" he barely managed to say before another voice echoed his surprise. He turned and saw Flint stepping out from behind some bushes.
What's he doing here? Was he spying on me?
"Flint? Is that you?"
Flint chuckled nervously. "Y-yeah, it's me."
"I thought you were dead," Jenny said bluntly, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Brock's jaw tightened. Dead? He might as well have been.
Jenny shook her head, refocusing. "There's no time for this. We need to go now," she said, motioning toward the car. "I'll explain everything on the way."
Without a second thought, Brock moved, sliding into the passenger seat before Jenny could finish her sentence. "Drive," he said, his tone sharp.
His focus was already on Mt. Moon, his mind racing through the possibilities—wild Pokémon driven into a frenzy, rogue trainers fighting over rare resources, or a territorial conflict between Pokémon colonies spilling onto the public paths. But the thought of Flint lingered at the edge of his mind, gnawing at him like a persistent Rattata.
Jenny hesitated, her eyes flicking between Brock and Flint. The tension was thick, almost palpable.
"Get in," Brock said, the words bitter on his tongue, but he forced them out.
The people at Mt. Moon needed help. The city needed reassurance. And no matter how much it grated on him, they needed every capable trainer.
Flint's eyes widened in surprise as he climbed into the back seat.
Jenny slammed her foot on the gas, and the car roared forward. The city blurred past as they sped toward Mt. Moon, the siren wailing, cutting through the early morning calm like a warning to the world. Brock stared at the horizon, his jaw set. He would deal with his father later. Right now, there were people who needed him.
By the time they reached Mt. Moon, the scene was pure chaos.
The early morning light cast long shadows across the base of the mountain, where police officers, Pokémon Rangers, and medical teams swarmed like a disturbed Beedrill hive. Reporters crowded every available space, microphones thrust forward like weapons as they bombarded the arriving vehicles with questions. The air was thick with tension, punctuated by the sounds of injured Pokémon crying out and the distant rumble of emergency vehicles.
Jenny punched the horn, the sharp blast cutting through the cacophony. The reporters parted just enough for the car to pull in. The moment the vehicle stopped, Brock stepped out, only to be met with an onslaught.
"Brock! What can you tell us about the attack?"
"Is it true wild Pokémon were involved?"
"Do you have any comment on reports of a vigilante?"
"What's the response from the League?"
"How many are injured? Are there fatalities?"
Brock's head pounded as the questions came at him from every direction. The reporters' voices blurred into a single overwhelming noise, their flashing cameras blinding him with every step. He ignored them, forcing his way toward the police line. Focus. Don't let them distract you.
The sight beyond the reporters turned his stomach.
Stretchers lined the area, filled with injured trainers and Pokémon alike. Medics worked frantically, applying potions and bandages while issuing orders to each other.
As he neared the police line, a familiar voice rose above the commotion. "Brock, good to see you."
Turning, Brock spotted Greg, the Superintendent of the Pokémon Rangers. Broad-shouldered with an air of authority, Greg's presence commanded respect even in chaos. Before Brock could say a word, Greg closed the distance and swept him up in a bone-crushing bear hug, lifting him slightly off the ground.
"Good to see you too," Brock managed, his voice muffled against Greg's shoulder. "But could you put me down before the media spins this into a story about you slacking off on the job?"
"What, I can't hug my nephew?"
"I wouldn't put it past them," a voice cut through. Flint.
The temperature between the three shifted instantly. Greg's jovial expression hardened as he turned toward Brock's father, his gaze darkening. Brock could practically feel the tension radiating off both men. He acted quickly, pinching Greg's arm just enough to break his focus.
"The media's here," Brock muttered. "Not the time."
Greg exhaled slowly. His voice dropped to a low growl as he placed a heavy hand on Flint's shoulder. "After this is over, Flint, we'll talk. Best friendo."
The words dripped with something more than sarcasm—a promise that nothing about this reunion would be easy. Flint only nodded, his expression unreadable. He turned toward the reporters swarming the scene like Spearow drawn to a carcass.
"I'll handle the media," Flint offered. "You two focus on the situation."
Brock didn't answer. He just watched as Flint approached the reporters. A ripple moved through the crowd as someone recognized him.
"Wait, aren't you The Boulder?"
Flint snorted, slipping into his old persona like it was a comfortable coat. "That's right! The Boulder is back, baby," he declared, his booming voice carrying over the crowd.
"Where have you been all these years?"
"The Boulder is conflicted… on whether to tell you that information."
His father was putting on a show, distracting the press from the real issue. It was working, but it didn't make it any less irritating. Greg, still watching, muttered under his breath, "You know your mom came up with that nickname, right?"
"I didn't know that," Brock replied absently, his attention shifting as Greg motioned him away from the media frenzy.
"Jenny gave me the basics, but what happened in there?"
Greg sighed, running a hand over his face. "It's a mess. Team Rocket has always been dismissed as just another poaching gang—more organized than most, sure, but still just thieves. But now they pull this? Taking over ranger posts, kidnapping trainers, and holding them as prisoners? That changes things, politically and practically."
Brock frowned. "How so?"
Greg's tone became grave. "Kidnapping licensed trainers is a whole different ballgame. Up until now, they've stayed under the radar—sticking to theft and poaching, stuff that doesn't draw too much attention from law enforcement. But holding trainers hostage? That's bold. And it puts the Rangers directly in the spotlight. It forces accountability."
"And what does that mean for the Rangers?"
"It means scrutiny. Investigations. Pressure from cities, local governments, and anyone who thinks this could happen again. We're going to be questioned at every level—how this happened, why we didn't see the signs, and why it wasn't stopped sooner. Heads will roll, Brock. And if we don't manage the narrative, it won't just be Team Rocket's reputation that takes a hit—it'll be ours."
Brock nodded slowly. "What about this vigilante I keep hearing about?"
Greg shook his head. "Gone before we arrived. Age unknown. Height described as that of a ten-year-old. We only know some of his Pokémon."
"What do we know?"
Greg sighed. "The kid had a Rattata, Pikachu, Eevee, and Spearow. There's evidence he had a Pokémon capable of digging through solid rock—possibly a Sandslash. From what we've pieced together, he mapped out the entire mountain, ambushed most of the grunts, and…" Greg hesitated, his voice lowering. "He brutally overpowered the leader."
"How brutal?"
"Brutal enough that the leader is now being transported to the ER alongside her Pokémon. She's in critical condition, Brock. And it's not just her. An entire Zubat colony was disturbed, dozens of stolen Pokémon are in disarray, and we found grunts tied up. They're shaken, injured, and completely out of it."
Brock's thoughts spiraled. A kid? With a roster like that? His mind briefly drifted to Ash Ketchum. Boy, had that kid left an impression on him. But he shook his head.
Ash was barely a month into his journey. No way was he taking down an entire Team Rocket operation. That was just impossible, even if the kid was a prodigy.
"What was Team Rocket even after?"
"From the grunts we've interrogated, we've pieced together that Team Rocket was after an Eevee. Not just any Eevee—it had been experimented on. According to them, this Eevee had the ability to evolve into Vaporeon, Flareon, and Jolteon at will."
Brock's mind immediately clicked the pieces together. The vigilante… his motive was to protect his Eevee.
Greg nodded. "That's what we're thinking. He went to extreme lengths to keep it out of Team Rocket's hands. Judging by the chaos he left behind, this wasn't just some spur-of-the-moment decision. He planned every step, all to safeguard that Eevee."
"What's the next move?" Brock asked, his voice quieter now.
"Officially? Damage control," Greg said. "The Rangers are already working to protect their image. They'll spin the story to focus on the vigilante angle—hero or anti-hero, it doesn't matter. The media will eat it up. It buys us time to clean up the mess without losing public trust."
"And unofficially?"
Greg sighed, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He didn't light one, just toyed with the box in his hands. "Unofficially, we're trying to figure out who this kid is and why he went after Team Rocket like this. If we don't, someone else will. Either way, we need to get ahead of it."
Brock thought for a moment. "You think this could escalate?"
"If we don't handle this properly? Absolutely. But even now, this situation has already escalated in ways that are… worrying. Team Rocket is going to regroup, no doubt. And the fear this whole incident has sown—among civilians, trainers, and even the Rangers—it's a powder keg waiting to explode."
"What exactly are we looking at here?"
Greg hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "The G-Force is getting involved."
Brock's head snapped up, his expression one of pure shock. "The G-Force? Dragon Master Lance?!"
"Yeah. An Eevee that's been experimented on—an Eevee that can switch between Vaporeon, Flareon, and Jolteon at will—that's not something you can just sweep under the rug. And with the number of people who saw it in action? We can't silence that kind of information, Brock. Word is already leaking out, and if this is a possibility..."
"The demand for that kind of experimentation on the black market," Brock said, finishing the thought. "It's going to skyrocket."
"Exactly," Greg said, his tone grim. "It's not just Team Rocket anymore. We're talking about creating a ripple effect that could reach far beyond them. Other criminal organizations, independent scientists, people with enough money to buy power they don't understand. The implications are... terrifying."
"And if the G-Force is involved... you think the government is going to step in?"
"They have to," Greg said simply. "The idea of genetically altering Pokémon like this? They'll want to understand it, regulate it—or worse, weaponize it. Either way, this isn't just a local problem anymore. It's national. Maybe even global."
"This is just the beginning," Brock said quietly, his voice heavy with the weight of realization.
Greg didn't respond. He didn't need to. His silence was all the confirmation Brock needed.
[Pewter City - Pokémon Center Communication Room]
Austin's fingers moved quickly over the phone's buttons as he dialed the Viridian City Pokémon Center, leaving a brief voicemail before switching immediately to a more personal call. Dealing with Delia right now… yeah, that was going to be tough.
The events at Mt. Moon were all over the media, plastered across every headline, turning the entire region into a hotbed of gossip and speculation. For someone like Delia, who was already overly protective, this was the worst-case scenario. Her son—her pride and joy—was out there in the middle of it all. Add Gary to the mix, and it was no surprise she was a wreck.
The call connected, and he didn't even get a chance to say "hello" before her sobs reached him through the receiver.
"Mom," Austin said softly, his voice barely cutting through her crying. "Hey, it's me."
She didn't respond right away, letting her emotions pour out. Between her sniffles and shaky breaths, fragments of her worries slipped through—how terrifying the news was, how she feared the worst, how the thought of him being caught in the chaos nearly broke her.
He stayed silent, letting her vent while his mind wandered. Should I feel guilty? Maybe. But he didn't. Not exactly. What he felt was exhaustion—a bone-deep weariness that never seemed to go away. It was like running a marathon with no finish line, always a step ahead of disaster but never far enough to rest.
"I'm fine. Really," he said, finally cutting in. "No injuries, no scars, not even a scratch. I didn't even go to Mt. Moon. I was making sure that all my underwear is clean."
That got a shaky laugh out of her, though he winced at his own joke.
She sniffled, her voice soft but still tinged with fear. "Just… promise me that you are safe, okay?"
"I promise," he said, meaning it this time. He glanced at the flashing notification of another incoming call. "Look, I've got someone else on the line, but I'll call you again soon. I promise."
Her sigh came through the receiver, heavy and filled with a mother's endless worry. "Okay, sweetie. Just… don't make me wait too long."
"I won't," he said, switching over to the next call before her words could twist any tighter around his heart.
The moment Nurse Joy from Viridian appeared on the screen, her usual professionalism was undercut by a wry smile. "Well, looks like you've been busy, Bag Boy," she said, her tone dripping with amusement. "Was Mt. Moon also the darkness that shaped you?"
Austin blushed, the memory of that ill-advised distraction attempt flooding back. "I regret ever using that Bane speech," he muttered.
"Regret or not, it's stuck now," she teased, before her tone softened. "So, what can I do for you, hero?"
"I'm sure you've seen the news about Mt. Moon."
"In passing," she admitted. "But the reports are vague—lots of speculation, not much substance. What's really going on?"
He gave her a quick rundown, carefully avoiding the bloodier details. By the time he finished, her smile had faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown.
"So, you need me to treat your Pokémon?"
"Yeah," he admitted. "Low-key, though. Too many questions might lead Team Rocket straight to me."
"That's smart, but have you thought about how much of your trail is already traceable? The Viridian Center has your Pokémon's data. You were also first spotted here. If Team Rocket's serious, they could piece things together."
Austin's stomach dropped. "I hadn't thought of that…"
"Relax," she said. "I already scrubbed your records from the Viridian database. Even if someone tries to dig, they won't find anything linking you here."
Relief washed over him like a wave. "You're a lifesaver. How long will the check-up take?"
"An hour. Just send them via the teleporter," Nurse Joy replied. "I'll keep you updated."
As the call ended, Austin stared at the phone for a moment, letting the weight of everything settle. His thoughts swirled with fragments of plans and concerns, but one thing stood out: Gary. Dialing Professor Oak's lab, he was greeted by the assistant, who quickly explained that the professor was already en route to Pewter City to check on Gary personally.
Guess I'll check up on Gary, Austin thought, setting the phone down. His eyes wandered to the teleporter. The technology of this world still baffled him. Most of it seemed stuck in the '90s, yet there were pockets of sci-fi-level advancements
What now? he wondered, desperate for a distraction until Nurse Joy called him back.
An hour later, Austin walked into the Pokémon Center, his nerves slightly calmer after completing an errand. Depositing some of the money had provided a brief reprieve. No way was he depositing the full 75k all at once—that kind of activity raised too many questions.
Sitting back at the communication terminal, Austin noticed something off about Nurse Joy's expression.
"What kind of situation were you in?" she asked, her voice carrying an edge.
"Life-threatening!" he replied, leaning forward.
She sighed heavily, rubbing her temples as though trying to process the enormity of it all. "Well, I've got bad news and good news. Which do you want first?"
"Which one takes longer?" Austin asked. He needed a moment to brace himself.
"The bad news," she admitted, hesitation creeping into her tone.
"Good news it is."
Nurse Joy allowed a faint smirk. "The good news is that your Pokémon can make a full recovery. And, by the way, nice job treating Pikachu. Honestly, you did better than most trainers I've seen. If being a hero doesn't work out, you could always work for me."
"I just cleaned his wounds and slapped on a Max Potion. Nothing special," he said, waving it off. "Plus, I'd rather not end up like your intern."
Her smirk widened, laced with a hint of an inside joke. "I promise, I'd treat you slightly better than my ex-husband."
They both laughed, the tension lifting momentarily, but Austin could feel the storm of bad news brewing.
"The bad news?" he asked, his voice quieter.
Nurse Joy's smile faded, replaced by a somber expression. "The bad news is that all your Pokémon are in serious condition."
She began reviewing her notes, her tone turning clinical. "Let's start with Pikachu. He sustained deep lacerations across his skin, and while the Max Potion sealed the wounds externally, it didn't treat the underlying trauma to his nerve endings and muscle tissue. Additionally, Pikachu's electrical reserves are dangerously depleted, likely due to overexertion in combat. If this isn't managed properly, it could lead to nerve damage or long-term energy instability."
Austin swallowed hard. "What's the solution?"
"First, we'll apply a specialized nerve-soothing salve to repair the damage beneath the surface and prevent scarring along the nerve pathways. Pikachu will require daily therapeutic massages to relax strained muscles and improve circulation. For his energy depletion, we'll put him on a high-protein, high-nutrient diet paired with controlled exposure to electricity using a calibrated electrical pad for Electric-types. Lastly, he'll need at least a week of strict rest—no battling, no high-energy activities. I'll oversee the first few sessions here, but it'll be up to you to enforce the rest once you're back on the road."
"Got it. What about the others?" he asked, bracing himself.
Nurse Joy's expression shifted, and he knew they were moving on to the harder cases.
"Rattata, on the other hand," she said, her voice heavier, "sustained significant injuries. The bite from Arbok left deep puncture wounds across her back, and the venom caused localized tissue damage. On top of that, the burn marks from Fire Fang further aggravated the area. You cleaned and stabilized her well, but the damage goes deeper than what a Potion can fix."
"How bad is it?" Austin's voice was barely above a whisper.
"We'll administer an antivenom flush to neutralize lingering traces of the Arbok's venom. After that, I'll treat the burned tissue with a regenerative ointment to promote healing and reduce scarring. Unfortunately, because of the severity of the burns and puncture wounds, we'll need to shave the affected area to clean and treat the injuries. She'll also need painkillers and anti-inflammatory medication for internal swelling and discomfort. While the wounds will heal, her use of the Guts ability pushed her body beyond its limits, causing significant muscle strain. Without enough rest, she could be more susceptible to future injuries."
"How long will it take?"
"Two weeks minimum. And absolutely no battling during that time."
Austin exhaled slowly. At least there was a plan.
"Lastly, we need to talk about Spearow," Nurse Joy said, her gaze sharp. "To be honest, if I didn't know you, I'd have to question your intentions as a trainer. What's happened to Spearow borders on abuse."
"Nurse Joy… I would never."
"Let me ask you this: how many Badges have you used on Spearow?"
"Eight on Spearow," Austin admitted after a pause, "and two on Rattata."
"That explains a lot," she muttered, shaking her head.
"Explains what?"
"A normal Spearow weighs about two kilograms. Do you want to guess how much your Spearow weighs now?"
"I don't know."
"Forty kilograms," she said bluntly.
Austin's heart stopped. "That's impossible."
"Not impossible—just unnatural. The Boulder Badges drastically increased Spearow's muscle mass, but at a cost. The weight gain is putting immense strain on its body. Spearow's hollow bones are designed for flight, but at 40 kilograms? Flight is nearly impossible. Worse, this excessive weight is compromising its skeletal structure. It's not if Spearow suffers a fracture or injury—it's when."
Austin felt sick, guilt gnawing at him, but Nurse Joy wasn't done.
"The biggest issue," she continued, "is Spearow's heart. It's not built to support such a massive body. Carrying this extra weight is overwhelming its cardiovascular system. If we don't address this soon, Spearow could develop heart failure. Its lifespan could be reduced to less than a year."
He covered his face with his hands, his stomach churning. What have I done? He thought he was making Spearow stronger, but instead, he'd been pushing it toward its breaking point. Toward death.
Nurse Joy's voice softened. "I know you didn't mean for this to happen. But this is the reality now."
Austin lowered his hands, his voice trembling. "What do we do? How do we fix this?"
"There are two options," she explained. "The first is surgery. We'd remove some of the excess muscle mass from the badge enhancements. It's invasive, but it would immediately relieve the strain on Spearow's heart and bones."
"Surgery…" Austin flinched. "What's the risk?"
"Surgery is always risky," Nurse Joy admitted. "While Spearow is stronger than most, the procedure is complex, and there's always a chance of complications. But it's a proven method—many wealthy trainers who overuse badges or supplements have had to resort to it."
"This is... common?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Nurse Joy said, her expression hardening. "Many wealthy trainers—or those who think they can shortcut their way to success—use both legal and illegal enhancements on their Pokémon. They see it as a fast track to glory, but more often than not, it ruins their Pokémon in the process."
Austin cringed, guilt settling heavier on his shoulders.
"What's the second option?"
Nurse Joy's eyes softened, but there was a flicker of something unusual there.
"The second option is riskier. Most trainers—or even medical professionals—don't consider it. But in Spearow's case, because of its unusual resilience, I think it might be worth trying."
"What is it?"
Nurse Joy hesitated for a moment before answering. "Becoming an Alpha Pokémon."
Austin blinked, staring at her like she'd just started speaking a foreign language.
"Pardon."
"Alpha Pokémon," she repeated patiently. "Have you ever heard of them?"
"No... ma'am."
"In the wild, there are rare Pokémon—larger, stronger, and more dominant than their usual counterparts. They're called Alpha Pokémon. These creatures aren't just bigger; they're physically superior in almost every way. They're extremely rare and often considered the apex of their species."
Austin stared at her, his mind racing to comprehend what she was saying. "So... you're telling me Spearow could become one of these Alphas?"
"It's possible," Nurse Joy said with a small, measured nod. "Spearow's condition is unique. Its enhanced body mass and increased bone density, combined with its natural resilience, make it a candidate. But the process isn't guaranteed. Evolution is a critical trigger point, and if handled correctly, it could stabilize Spearow's condition while pushing it to Alpha status."
"Just like that?"
"Yes," Nurse Joy confirmed. "When a Spearow evolves, its body mass normally increases dramatically—from about 2 kilograms to around 38 kilograms. But in Spearow's case, because of the enhancements, we estimate it could grow even larger as an Alpha."
"How much larger?"
Nurse Joy hummed, doing some mental math. "Based on Spearow's current weight and its expected growth patterns, I'd estimate around nine feet tall with a wingspan of approximately twenty-eight feet."
Austin shot out of his chair, his hands slamming onto the counter. "Jesus Christ!" He could barely process it. That was no longer a bird—it was a flying tank.
Nurse Joy raised an eyebrow at his outburst but continued calmly. "It's a massive change, both physically and behaviorally. Alpha Pokémon are not only larger but also more aggressive and more difficult to control."
Austin ran a hand through his hair, his brain spinning. "I mean... Spearow would probably love being an Alpha," he muttered. "But—wait—how do I even handle something that huge? Do I need a bigger PokéBall? Do I have to buy special food? Where am I even going to keep it?"
Nurse Joy gave him a knowing smile. "That's the price of responsibility, hero. But if you're willing to take it on, Spearow could thrive."
Austin rubbed his temples, already feeling the weight of what he was agreeing to. "Okay," he said, finally looking up at her. "What do we do next?"
"First, we'll prepare Spearow for the evolution. That means closely monitoring its condition, adjusting its training to minimize strain, and providing it with a specialized diet to stabilize its current mass. The goal is to ensure a smooth transition into Alpha status without putting too much strain on its heart or skeletal system."
"And if it doesn't work?"
Nurse Joy's expression turned serious. "If it doesn't work, we'll have to fall back on the surgical option to reduce its body mass. But based on Spearow's current condition, I think the Alpha route is its best chance."
Austin nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in.
"I want to talk to Spearow about this before moving forward."
"Your choice, hero. Just make sure you're both on the same page. In the meantime, I'll get started with the treatment for the rest of your Pokémon. They're tough little fighters, but they need some serious care."
"Thank you."
As the call ended, Austin leaned back in his chair, the room falling into an uneasy silence.
"...This is going to bankrupt me," he muttered under his breath. He could already imagine Spearow's reaction when he explained the Alpha option. That little firecracker of a bird would be over the moon about the idea, no doubt about it. There'd be no stopping him.
Austin let out a tired sigh, a small smile creeping onto his face despite everything. "Guess we're all in now!"
Author Note:
Well, that was certainly a fun chapter, wouldn't you agree?
So, what did you guys think of Christopher as a character? Do you want to see him in the future as Austin's goon?
Also, how do you feel about Austin getting an Alpha Fearow? For those wondering, I added this as a response to the feedback about Pidgeot being able to mega evolve. Since Spearow doesn't have that option, I decided to give it a unique power-up instead—Alpha Fearow! I think it adds a nice twist and helps Spearow stand out as something truly special.
Thank you, as always, for your incredible support and for taking the time to read my work. Your feedback keeps me motivated, so let me know what you think in the comments.
Wishing you a blessed and fantastic day ahead! Keep being awesome, and I'll see you in the next chapter!
