???? POV
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Author's Notes: If you want to support the story and read some advance chapters (+7) https://www.p@treon. com/Jayjayempi , it would also help me a lot if you have comments on how the story is going or if you would be so kind as to leave a review, Thank you very much for reading!
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The air was thick, damp, and smelled of wet earth and rotting leaves. Each step she took through the bushes rustled faintly, a sound so small she feared it betrayed her presence. She moved with extreme caution, measuring her every movement, almost as if she were an invisible shadow gliding through the forest. The dim light of dawn was just beginning to filter through the treetops, dimly illuminating the clearing where the body lay.
It wasn't just any body. That man lying on his side was a symbol of defeat, a silent and sinister message. His presence there, in that place, told a story of failure and violence that still resonated in the air. Beside him, the device that had blocked all signals of communication and help lay shattered, completely destroyed: twisted iron, burned circuits, extinguished sparks that had once glowed with power. Everything indicated that the situation had escalated beyond what was anticipated.
The young man held his breath, feeling the weight of the scene crush him. There were no words to describe it, only a heavy silence that seemed to absorb all sound, even the whisper of the wind through the leaves. Failure, helplessness, and death seemed to concentrate in that clearing, enveloping it in an oppressive atmosphere.
His eyes quickly scanned the ground, searching for any sign, any clue that might give him a clue as to the whereabouts of the Dratini that must be there. He looked for footprints in the soft earth, marks on the branches, any trace that indicated a direction, but found nothing. There was only emptiness, an eerie silence that chilled his blood.
Silently, he moved with the agility of a predator, hiding behind the trees and undergrowth that covered the area. His breathing became slow and controlled, alert to any strange sound. From a high vantage point, he managed to see three motorcycles cutting across the landscape with their metallic rumble. They were there: a blue-haired officer got off first, followed by several uniformed officers with tense faces and serious looks.
He hid deeper in the thicket, listening for the voices without being detected.
"This is where it was," the officer said firmly, pointing with her hand to the place where the body lay. "This is where the children reported this."
"Children?" one of the officers asked, his voice filled with surprise and a hint of disbelief.
"Yeah, a couple of kids. One of them, a redhead, got lucky and got the Dratini," another officer replied with a sarcastic smile. "Not just anyone would be lucky enough to get a Pokémon like that."
The young man clenched his fists tightly, feeling frustration rising like an internal fire. He didn't utter a word. He just retreated silently, merging with the shadows, as if he had never been there. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and plans as he disappeared into the dense forest.
Days passed, and the oppressive silence of the city seemed to mock his search. He wandered the streets and alleys, always in the shadows, watching every movement, alert for any sign of the redhead or the Dratini. But he found neither. No one seemed to know anything, or perhaps no one wanted to talk. Whispers were rare, and glances were averted.
The solitude of those nights reminded him of the gravity of his mission. He couldn't afford distractions or mistakes.
One night, while hiding on the roof of an old inn, two young voices broke the stillness of the city.
"Did you hear? Two new kids are causing a stir at the gym," an excited voice said. "One with Pikachu, the other with Eevee. They won the battle in brutal style."
"Both? And with an electric Pokémon and a normal one? That's incredible. I want to see them battle in person," the other voice replied, full of curiosity and admiration.
They didn't mention names, but his interest was particularly piqued by the Eevee. He thought about how that Pokémon could strengthen his team, and his instinct told him to keep searching for those trainers.
Finally, he found them on the road leading to Mt. Moon. The young man emerged from the trees, his face impassive and his gaze cold. In front of him, two trainers were already waiting, one with a red cap pulled down over his eyes and the other standing with his arms crossed, a cocky smile plastered on his lips.
The one in Blue was the first to speak.
"Well, you're finally coming out. We were starting to think you only knew how to spy from the shadows." He took a step forward, confidence swimming in his voice. "I'm Blue. And this here—" he jerked a thumb at the boy in the cap, "—is Red. He doesn't talk much, but don't let that fool you. His Charmeleon has better aim than most of the Kanto Pokémon."
Red nodded slightly, his eyes fixed on the young man. It wasn't distrust. It was analysis.
The young man didn't respond. He just unsheathed his Poké Balls. Two flashes tore through the air, releasing his Pokémon. The temperature immediately dropped. The silence was replaced by a biting wind that carried with it the smell of ice and the distant roar of breaking water.
Blue raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so we're going all out, huh?"
With an almost casual gesture, he threw his Poké Ball. Wartortle emerged with an agile leap, spinning around before landing with its claws ready.
Red was more direct. He raised his head a few degrees and threw his Pokeball. Charmeleon appeared with a burst of flame that lit up the nearby branches. Its tail burned brightly, and its eyes flickered like glowing coals.
"Let's see what you've got," Blue said with a smile. "Wartortle, open the dance."
The aquatic Pokémon shot forward like a bullet, engulfed in a swirling water. The attack struck the ground in front of the opponent with force, but it barely flinched. It responded instantly: a well-aimed swipe at the Wartortle's head, which covered itself with its shell just in time to avoid being hit.
"Charmeleon, Flamethrower," Red said calmly.
The response was a torrent of fire that tore through the air. The fire was diverted by a stream of pressurized water, and the impact of both elements generated a steam explosion that engulfed the entire clearing.
"Nice special effect," Blue commented through the fog. "Wartortle, up. Downward attack."
Wartortle leaped through the trees, hidden among the branches. But before he could land, a column of water shot out like a spear. He dodged it on pure instinct, spinning in the air before landing on the ground with a thud.
"This guy doesn't give orders, but his Pokémon fight as if they can read his mind," Blue muttered. "I don't like it."
Charmeleon needed nothing more than a glance from Red. He ignited a burst of flame and leaped toward the nearest opponent. Water reappeared, forming a wall that forced him back, but not before launching a crossfire attack that evaporated part of the defense. Steam once again covered the field.
And then came the counterattack.
From the mist, jets of water fanned out, forcing Wartortle to retreat and Charmeleon to dive to the side. The ground became treacherous with frost underfoot. A second swipe followed, aiming straight for the two Pokémon's legs.
"Wartortle, counterattack, very fast," Blue shouted.
Wartortle spun around and unleashed a powerful blast of water that slammed into the opponent's claws. The explosion of droplets filled the air, like rain. Charmeleon seized the moment: he lunged with his claws blazing and managed to glancingly wound one of the opponents. A cry of pain echoed through the trees.
The young man watched the scene expressionlessly. His Pokémon were tense, breathing heavily. They had burn marks. But they remained firm.
"This is getting heated," Blue said. "And we haven't even gotten the best of it yet."
Red finally spoke. A single word.
"Let's finish."
Charmeleon roared. Its tail glowed brighter than ever, and a scorching blast of flame erupted from its jaws, crossing the field. Wartortle joined in with a new jet of pressurized water, aiming for the center of the enemy formation.
The impact was brutal.
A burst of steam and energy swept through the clearing. When the fog cleared, the young man's Pokémon were on the ground, defeated. Not unconscious, but overwhelmed. The young man stepped forward and returned them to their Poké Balls without a word.
"Interesting," Blue said with a half smile. "You know how to fight, but you lack spirit. Or purpose. Or both."
Red didn't say anything. He just looked down, as if he'd already filed the young man away somewhere in his memory.
The young man turned and ran without looking back. Blue shrugged.
"Do you think we'll ever see him again?" he asked.
Red was slow to respond.
"Yeah."
And in the clearing only the footprints, the steam... and the certainty that this would not be the last time they crossed paths.
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A few days later, a deep, authoritative voice from the PokeNav cut through the stillness of the night, issuing a direct order.
"The shipment at Mt. Moon was interrupted. The operation has failed. Go and find out what happened."
Without hesitation, he hung up. He knew his mission had to change course. The time had come to act.
Upon arriving at Mt. Moon, he found the access gate closed and guarded by a group of Rangers. They formed a barrier with crossed arms and stern stares, blocking the way with iron determination.
He hid behind a nearby rock, trying to gather some information without being seen.
"We're not letting anyone in," a Ranger said firmly. "The investigation is ongoing, and security is at its highest."
"What exactly happened?" another asked, intrigued.
"A Pokémon trafficking operation was neutralized. Several Team Rocket Grunts were captured and buried up to their necks in the ground," the first one explained. "The Tower team had to intervene to rescue the captive Pokémon."
The young man narrowed his eyes, anger and frustration mingling in his chest. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place, but the truth remained hidden.
That night, camped near the mountain, he overheard a conversation between the Rangers who were rotating shifts and returning to their tower.
"Do you know who reported the Rockets?" one asked curiously.
"Yes, a boy. The same one who helped us capture them and gave away some Grunts' Poké Balls," the other replied, with a mixture of surprise and admiration.
"A child? What was he doing in such a dangerous place?"
"We don't know much, but without him we would never have arrested those idiots."
The young man leaned against a tree trunk, gazing at the stars that barely peeked through the branches. His thoughts swirled in a dark whirlwind, filled with doubt and determination.
First, the redhead. Then, those two trainers with the famous Kanto starters. Now, that nosy kid.
Four unexpected obstacles stood between him and his mission.
The deep silence of the forest fell upon him, broken only by the whisper of the wind and the slowly burning embers of the fire.
In a low voice, almost a whisper that was lost among the leaves, he said:
"I'll find them."