2005- Chapter One 
An icy wind whipped through the trees of the dark forest. A single human walked swiftly down the path, using the moon for light. She had the slightest bit of a limp, slowing her progress slightly. The young woman pulled the hood tighter around her frail body, looking from side to side nervously. One hand held firmly to a dagger, the other kept her cloak in place. She shivered involuntarily, glancing with alert blue eyes at the forboding trees surrounding her. Viridian forest was a dangerous place at night, especially to a woman travelling alone.
A shadowy figure stepped out from behind a nearby tree, slowly followed by two others.
"Well, what could this be?" the first one sneered, strolling up casually to the lone woman. "You shouldn't be walking this path alone, little lady, or you might find yourself in a world of trouble."
"Get out of my way," she practically ordered. "I don't have time for this."
He held out a hand to grab her by the coat. "Aw, that's too bad, sugar. 'Cause I got all the time you could want, and the next couple minutes are gonna be spent making sure you don't get out of here with money."
"Hand everything over and you won't get hurt," another of the trio told her, licking his blade. "Much."
"Let go of me, scumbag," the woman hissed, readying her knife to stab him.
"Scumbag?" he slapped her. "Some people don't have any respect, do they? Oh, and if you were planning on using this," he pulled her hand up, revealing the weapon, "you're outta luck." In one quick movement he wrenched the dagger from her hand, throwing it on the path. "Now, about that money..."
She kicked him squarely in the groin, causing him to let go of her. "I don't have any, and even if I did I wouldn't turn it over to someone like you."
"You're gonna die for that!" the other two growled, advancing on her.
The young woman looked around. Her knife was too far away to grab, and these men were faster than she could ever run. 'At least I can give them a fight,' she thought, readying herself for an inevitable death.
Suddenly one of the two theives fell to the ground, dead.
"Theo?" the second questioned. He didn't need to worry about it, for he soon joined his friend.
"God, I hate bandits." A cloaked man stepped out of the forest, holding a laser-gun in one hand.
The leader of the group, who had now recovered from his fall, backed away from the man with the weapon. He smirked. "Sure, you're tough with one of those babies by your side, but how would you be in a hand-to-hand fight?"
"Want to test me?"
The thief never answered. The woman, having gotten her knife back, cut him down from behind, spitting out blood from when he'd hit her.
"Not very sporting of you, stabbing him in the back," the strange man commented.
"He shouldn't have pissed me off," she replied. She cleaned the dagger off in the grass, not taking her eyes off the new man for an instant. "I'm Anita Lockheart. And you are?"
He looked away. "I have a camp off the road a ways. If you need a place to stay for the night..." His eyes moved back down to hers. He held out a hand to help her up.
She took it, noting that her new acquaintance had the most dazzling emerald eyes. "Thank you. I think I'll take the offer." She peered closer, but couldn't make out any more features under the hood.
Once she was up, he took his hand from hers and began to head towards camp. "Coming?"
She nodded, trotting off after him, still trying to figure out why he seemed so oddly familiar.~
The stranger handed her a bowl of soup. "It's not much, but it's good."
Anita pulled her hood back, revealing brilliant red hair tied up in a bun. A nasty scar on her right cheek was the only thing to marr her otherwise pretty self. "I, uh, wanted to thank you... for saving me back there."
"It was nothing," he told her, voice calm and even. "Bandits are scum; they deserve whatever they get." He pulled back his hood; a head of lavender hair tied into a ponytail brought another wave of nostalgia to Anita.
"Can't argue with that." Remembering a loaf of bread she had her bag, the young woman went over to fetch it out.
As she bent over, her savior's voice asked, "So, Jessie, you're going by Anita these days?"
"Now there's a name I haven't heard in a long time." Jessie's face broke into a thin smile. "James Morgan. I knew you looked familiar, but after all so long I couldn't be sure."
"It's been five years," he stated.
"Feels like twenty."
"I can relate."
"What are you doing out here?" Jessie asked.
He shrugged, not looking her in the face. "Looking for someone. You?"
"On my way to Pewter. I need to find a job to get some money, then move on to the next town."
"Works hard to find these days, though. Ever since the war began."
Jessie chuckled humorlessly. "This damned nuclear war. What a mess." She sat back on her heels. "So, what are you going by now? Obviously James Morgan would be a little difficult to keep."
He nodded. "I earned the name Jake Carol. Though, some know me better as Silent Death."
Jessie's eyes widened. "The famous bounty hunter. That's you?" A nod. "You're a first class assassin."
"You've heard of me," he said more as a statement then a question.
"Who hasn't?" she smiled dryly. "That would explain the high-tech laser gun. Not really the career I would have seen you in."
"You play the cards your dealt." He paused again, poking at the fire thoughtfully. "I thought you were dead. When the building went up in flames, I was so sure... and when Cassidy came out and said you were..."
"Cassidy says a lot of things. That's what got her killed in the first place." Jessie tried to meet his eyes, but couldn't seem to. "When I woke up in the hospital, and heard no one could find you, I thought that... I assumed you'd been killed."
"I was. James Morgan died the day he found out his best friend was gone," he, too, couldn't meet her eyes. "I don't even know who I am anymore."
"Do any of us?" came the wry reply. Jessie finally was able to look him in the face, as was he. "Now, what are you really doing here, and so close to me? I seriously doubt the two of us just happened to be walking the same path at the same time."
"Always the observant one. No, it wasn't a coincidence that I happened to be nearby," he said, still sounding completely emotionless. "In reality," his green eyes flashed dangerously, "I'm here to kill you."
"Kill me?" Jessie's eyes widened only slightly. "Why would someone want to kill me?"
"I don't ask my employers for reasons. But, they wanted Anita Lockheart dead, and they hired the best of the best to do it." He put a hand on his gun. "The only reason I helped you back there was because I knew you were 'Anita' and I wanted you for myself. Not the good guy anymore, am I?"
"There are no good guys." she told him. "So, you going to kill me, or not?"
"Don't you want to get away? I could give you that."
"Why? So you can track me down and kill me before I know I'm dead? I'm not into that. I prefer a face-to-face death. No, it'd be in my best interests to die now, rather than later." Jessie leaned back, keeping her eyes on his. "It's nothing personal; I know it's your job and I won't hold it against you." She watched as he picked up the weapon. "I've heard those new lasers don't hurt if you use them right, and from what I saw you do back with those bandits you can wield a gun. Fire away."
He held it to her head, a few inches away from her forehead. "You'd do it to me, if it was your job," he stated.
"Most likely."
There was a pause, as the two looked each other in the eyes, trying to read the other ones thoughts. James' finger tightened on the trigger. Jessie closed her eyes, knowing it would be over soon and then she wouldn't have a care in the world anymore. It didn't seem like too bad of a fate, now that she thought about it.
Jessie heard the soft sound of the gun going off, a blast of hot air by her face, then nothing. She opened her eyes, looking to see what had happened.
"But I'm not you," James said quietly in that calm, even tone. "Call me weak, but I can't will myself to shoot you."
She followed his eyes to the patch of ground near her. The laser had made a one-by-one-foot sizzling crater in the ground. 'That could have been me,' Jessie thought. "James-"
The assassin got up and walked to the edge of the camp, looking into the forest. "You should get some sleep. It's late, and we'll be getting up early."
Jessie knew she should say something- a thank you, a good night, anything- but nothing would come out. She simply crawled into her sleeping bag and tried to fall asleep.
James stood at the edge of the clearing for some time, watching the trees rustle in the autumn wind. He thought back to that fateful day, so many years ago...
"James, where do you tink yer goin'?" Meowth questioned.
He turned, a deep pain in his eyes. "I'm leaving. I can't stand fighting in this damned war any longer."
"You can't do dat! Da general will come after you! An' you know what happens to deserters."
"I don't care," he said flatly. "I've seen more people die in the last two months then I've seen in my entire life. And, now Jessie's one of them..."
"Yer a dead man walkin' if ya leave here," the cat argued. "No one's evah escaped dis place an' come to a nice end. You know it as well as I do."
"It wouldn't be so bad, really," he thought aloud. "At least I wouldn't have to worry about it any longer. And, I'd see Jessie again."
Meowth shook his head sadly. "Yer lettin' yer heart get in da way of yer job. Dat's gonna get ya killed someday, Jim. Caring'll be da death of ya..."
"Caring will kill me," he mused. "Yeah. I'd like to know where that so-called good person went to."
~
A young man, not quite twenty-three, ran a hand through his spiky black hair and gazed out at Viridian Forest. The clock in the bell-tower chimed noon.
"Oh joy," he said sarcastically. "Only two hours to go." He sighed and pushed himself off the wall of the fort. "Well, time to report." He put a silver whistle to his lips and let out one shrill blast, indicating the all-clear sign. It was always clear from that direction, these days.
"Oh, Lord, how did I get stuck with this nowhere job?" he asked himself, leaning heavily against the ramparts. "Whatever happened to the aspiring breeder who was gonna get hitched to the cutest girl in the world?"
'The war happened,' he thought. It was all Johto's fault, now that he thought back on it. When 2000 hit they just flat-out weren't millenium ready. And those blasted nuclear missiles had been launched on five different parts of the world. What a way to begin a second world war, and the deadliest too. He tried to remember what the complete death toll had been after all the bombing. Half the world's population? Three-fourths? Something to that affect, anyway.
"Look at me," he chuckled dryly. "Remembering figures from three years ago. I bet even old Professor Oak wouldn't have been able to do something like that. I ought to be making a name for myself out there. But, here I am, at Pewter Fort, living as some dumb wallguard." He sighed again.
He looked back upon the fort, smiling slightly. He was proud of his hometown, despite being stuck here. They'd fared a lot better than most of the cities in Kanto, and they were the only one to think of building a wall around the remaining part of the city. Past the wall, on the far side, was the destroyed area of Pewter, where they'd been attacked. A crumbling gym, three dead siblings and the only home he had known for a time still sat there. He turned away from the inner fort, to attend to his boring duty.
"Brock! Hey, Brock!"
Brock Harrison turned around to see who was calling him. One of his younger sisters, now nearly fifteen, was coming up the steep wall steps, carrying a bag.
"Celia told me to bring you your lunch. It's nothing fancy, just a sandwich or something, but it'll hold you over." Celia was the second-oldest in the family, and more-or-less the runner of the Harrison household now. "Only two more hours, right?"
Brock nodded. "Yeah. It'll seem like twenty by the time I'm done."
"Everyday feels like a year, it's so boring. I almost wish they'd start school up again," Frita commented. "Too bad they can't get any teachers. Everyone's put to work 'cause of the war and stuff." The younger girl paused. "Brock, d'you think this'll ever be over? Pewter hasn't been attacked in a while, but there's no treaty yet, and Cerulean just got bombed a little while ago. The rest of Nomékop still blames this on Johto, don't they?"
"That's right."
Frita thought for a moment. "It was sort of their fault, but I don't see why we have to keep attacking. It just racks up more deaths. If I were the president of one of those big world-powerful countries, I'd try to knock some sense into everyone's heads. If they got off their fat butts for a change and took a look around, they'd see nothing good is coming of this, you know what I mean?"
Brock didn't like to talk about it. It brought back some painful memories he preferred to forget. "Hey, you should stop worrying about it, Frita. You're too young to have to bother with something like this. Where'd you hear all that stuff, anyway?"
"Celia usually keeps the TV turned to world news, since it's about the only channel that still works. I watch it once in a while- it sorta helps the day go by a little faster." She stood to leave. "You want me to stay, keep you company?"
"Naw, that's all right. Send the others my regards, okay?" he looked back towards the forest, then asked, "How's Kris doing?"
"Oh, Kris," Frita's half-smile dropped. "He's, um, no better, but no worse. You think that's a good sign?"
"Maybe."
She shifted nervously. "Um, Brock? You know a lot about taking care of stuff. Is Kris gonna be okay?"
"I hope so."
"It's too bad the only doctor in town is short of medicine... Brock, why'd Quiana have to launch that virus here? Kanto never did anything to them."
"If I knew, I'd tell you."
Frita's fists bunched up. "I hate them. They oughta get blown up, sky high, just like Tenuto did to Johto. It's their stupid virus' fault Kris is sick, and, well... Dad, and Erik and Millie, are..." she couldn't finish it.
Brock knelt down, so he was eye-to-eye with his sister. "You shouldn't wish that. I know that what they did was bad, but you have to understand that they're in a desperate spot too, just like we are. The whole world is. Wishing ill on someone is one of the reasons this war hasn't ended. People keep trying to blame others, and those people get hurt, then their allies bomb the country who began it, and it never ends." He stood up. "Now, you better head home, or Celia'll get worried. Okay?"
"Yeah, all right," she wiped a sleeve across her eyes, where tears for her younger brother Kris had started to form. "You know, it's too bad we don't have people like you for generals. Things'd be a whole lot better, wouldn't they?"
Brock looked away. "I'll see you in a little while. Tell Celia it's my night to cook."
He listened as she trotted off down the steps towards home. Brock sighed for nearly the fourth time that hour. "I could just get up, pack a bag, and leave. So why don't I?" He stared in the direction of his family's small apartment. "Hm. I wonder."~
Ash Ketchum stood on a high cliff atop Mount Silver, overlooking the charred and chemically dangerous land of Johto. Or, what was left of Johto. A small, yellow rodent perched on his shoulder, looking on with oddly intelligent eyes.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Ash said sarcastically. "Just like Pallet looks like, and Cerulean, and most of the rest of Kanto. At least we know we aren't the only ones who lost family."
The electric mouse, a Pikachu, and possibly one of the last left in the world, put a cheek lightly on his owner's.
The wind picked up again, sending a chill down the eighteen-year old's spine. "We ought to go back inside. It looks like a storm's about to hit."
They turned, Ash's black cape, symballizing his high status in the League, sweeping out behind him. He entered a dimly lit cave, lighting a fire wordlessly until it was blazing brightly. The wind blew across the curtain seperating the cave from the outside, but Ash made sure to tie it down tightly so nothing could come in.
He looked across the fire, where a girl only a few years older than himself slept quietly. He was silent about his tasks, not wanting to wake her. Even so, one eye opened slightly when the wind whistled loudly.
"How long was I sleeping?"
"Only a few hours. I let you rest. You need it, after all that."
She nodded, wiping sleep out of her eyes, along with a few tears. "I'm glad you found me back there. You know, I was near the point of suicide..."
"Don't talk about it," he advised. "We've both gone through that, but it's okay, now."
"Oh, yeah, it's fine," she said with an air of digust. "It's only that everyone who we ever cared about is dead-"
"I thought I said not to talk about it," he snapped.
She was silent for a moment, gazing into the flames in something of a trance. "I don't see why we shouldn't talk of it. It's all very real, and it's happening all around us. Hiding up on this mountain won't do either of us any good, you know. You can't pretend this war's not going on."
"I can pretend anything I damn well want to!" he growled. "Look, Misty, you think you've been to hell and back? Try living through what I did."
"That's exactly it. I don't know what you had to go through, and I never will until you start talking. If it's that bad, getting it off your chest will be the best thing." She turned her sad sapphire eyes to his dark brown ones. "It'll help. I know. I told you, and even though it still hurts, I'm better because of it. I've spilled my guts; don't you think you owe me the same thing?"
"I gave you food, water, a listening ear and a place to call home. I don't owe you anything. If you want to leave tomorrow, I don't care, but I won't be coming with you. I've been travelling for a while, and I haven't seen anything but torment, death and destruction. I'm sick of the human race. So, I'll be staying here, for a time," he said decisively. "You want a sob story? Go talk to Brock."
"Brock?" Misty started at the familiar name. "What makes you mention his name?"
"You mean you don't know?" Ash pulled some fruit out of his bag. "He's living in Pewter. Half his family's dead, and he's stuck doing wall duty until the war ends."
"Half," she said flatly. "That's too bad. Better than all, though."
No answer from her friend.
"Is... is everyone in Pallet dead?" she asked timidly after a moment. "On the news reports, a while back, they said there'd been some rioting, and that virus had hit somewhat hard, but after the bomb they never said who was killed..."
At first Ash didn't say anything. Then, before he could stop himself, it all poured out in a tidal wave of anguish. "I was up at Indigo Plateau when the bomb hit. Lance's house, at about 6 PM, eating dinner with he and his family. Funny, how you remember these things. The news report talked of devastating damage. Lance loaned me his Dragonite, and I made my way over as quickly as I could. Of course, as you know, the bomb didn't hit Pallet dead-on. It struck Cinnabar, but the nuclear activity was so strong that the sea winds carried it into Pallet. There wasn't anything I could do. Rescue crews were on the scene, hurrying everyone out as quickly as possible, but it was no good. In a few days they started dropping like flies. Radioactivity, and the like. You know what it's like, watching your own mother die, and knowing there isn't one thing you can do about it?" He ran a hand across his eyes- it was the first time he'd cried in years. "Stupid me. Of course you know. Your sisters..."
A hand was placed gently on his own. Ash looked up. Misty was staring into his eyes, smiling weakly. "Maybe it is best that we don't talk about it. You okay, now?"
"Yeah. I just... I'm fine."
Misty bit into an apple Ash had given her. "So, where's the rest of the Elite, if you're here? Are they...?"
"No. No, Lance got them to a safe spot, up in the mountains, where no one would ever consider bombing. That's where I'm headed, I guess." He managed a faint grin. "Prima sends her regards."
Misty let out a small chuckle. She had a thought. "Did you... have you gotten word from Tracey? I heard he and Gary went off, to help with the battle..."
"A lot of people did. Lt. Surge, Koga, even Bugsy and Sabrina. There were some others, I'm sure. Lord knows I can't remember them all."
"Any word from any of them?" she pried.
"Last time I got a letter from either of them was when the bomb struck Pallet. Gary was trying to come back, for his family's funeral, but they wouldn't let him go. Tracey... he said it's horrible, all the fighting, but the war shouldn't last much longer. Granted, he wrote that nearly a year ago..."
"So, as far as we know, they're dead."
"Yes."
"Hm. Comforting bit of news," Misty said. The wind whistled again. "Blizzard?"
"Too early, even this high up," came the answer. "Probably just a rain storm." A blast of thunder proved his point. "You can leave tomorrow, if you want."
"Ashton- you like being called that now, right?- thanks for the help. It's probably more than I deserve. I know I haven't always been very nice to you."
He shrugged. "Call it payment for that bike I never returned."
Misty chuckled. After a few minutes, she looked up, glaring intently at him. "Now tell me, why are the Elite hiding up in the mountains? They're some of the most respected members of society. Couldn't they help put an end to this futile war?"
"Because." He took a bite from a pear. "Because I told them not to."
"You? Ashton, why would you do something like that? Prolonging the war will only bring more pain to people like Brock; and Tracey and Gary's hopes of coming back alive get slimmer-"
"I don't want to see anyone else I care about die!" he said sharply. "Getting involved would only put their lives on the line. You know how it is; there are cult groups all over the world who are convinced the end of the world has to come around because of this. If the Elite stepped in, they'd be assassinated in a week. The way I figure, we're going to sit this out in the middle of a mountain valley. It'll have to end, eventually."
"At the cost of what? My death, Brock's, Tracey's, Gary's and a million others? Even Jessie and James, wherever the hell they are? I know, it's been hard. It's been hard for all of us. But you have to think beyond your group and look at the whole world. Four billion people have been killed." She took his hands in hers, looking at him pleadingly. "How could you live, knowing that you could have done something and didn't?"
He pulled away. "It wouldn't make any difference. People would still be killing each other in cold blood. Maybe this is the way it's supposed to be."
"You can't mean that."
"I do." He stood up, pacing the room restlessly. "You think the Elite has all the answers? Newsflash: we don't. Who's to say that maybe this is just what's supposed to happen? Like with the ancient Pokémon. It's a second armageddon. Almost everyone will be wiped out. The odd one hundred left will start from day one. Start over. And hope to heaven they don't screw it up this time."
"I don't know you anymore," Misty stated simply. "You know, I sometimes used to really dislike that cocky prodigy child who won the Pokémon League at thirteen. But I'd rather have him annoying the crap out of me then you, sitting around watching the world die."
"Yeah? You aren't exactly the mirror image of your old self either."
Misty looked down at her wrists. Two thin scars were forming on each. She shuddered, trying not to think of her weakest moments. "I'll be leaving, tomorrow."
"Where will you go?" he asked blandly.
"Pewter. I haven't spoken to Brock in years. It'll be depressing there, I'm sure, but anything would be better than waiting around up here with you."
"Your choice. I won't stop you, but I would advise against it." Ash told her. "The virus is sweeping through there like wildfire, or so I'm told. Brock's family was stricken with it. Might still be. You'd be a lot safer up here."
"Safe isn't always the best thing. Maybe I could live out the rest of my life in a mountain paradise, but it wouldn't be a happy life. Unlike you, I have a conscience. Maybe, before it's too late, you'll find yours again."~
"Hey, easy on that arm, Erika," a brown-haired pilot complained. "I gotta use that to fly the plane, you know."
"Yeah, Gary I know," she replied teasingly, if not a bit impatiently. "And, despite my warnings, you'll be out there tomorrow, won't you?"
"Naturally. It's my sworn duty as a member of the Kanto Piloting Force! 'Sides, one more kill and I get a medal."
"Another? How many is that, now? Four, five?" she wondered.
"Six. But who's counting?" he turned serious, suddenly. "How's Trace' holding up? He gonna be fighting fit in a few more days?"
"He was a lot better this morning. He's going to have some nasty scars, but I think he'll be all right. He managed to get out of that plane just in time." She laughed slightly. "Funny. The first thing he wanted this morning was a pen and paper."
"To write home?"
"Yes."
"Poor fool. That's the fifth in the last two months. I bet not a single one has gone through." He patted his arm as the ex-gym leader finished the bandaging. "You think I can go in and see him?"
"I'm really not supposed to... what the heck. Go on. But you'd better make it quick."
Gary ducked under an awning and into the hospital unit. There were only a few people there, which meant either two things- no one had been seriously injured recently, or that the ones who had been hurt had died almost immediately. Tracey sat in the far bed, looking pretty beaten up with several bandages on his face. His hands were also wrapped up, and he was having quite a time getting the pen to do what he wanted.
"Need a little help?" Gary asked, standing next to the bed.
Tracey didn't look up. "Yeah. Who're we fighting again?"
"Hell if I know," Gary replied. "Last time I checked it was Quiana, but... just put that down. No one'll know the difference anyway." He waited for a minute, watching with mild amusement as Tracey tried to put down the country's name. "Hey, want me to do that?"
"It'd help," he handed over the notepad. "Just put down who we're fighting, and tell Ash that both of us are alive. There's not much else to say, is there?"
Gary quickly jotted down what Tracey wanted. Then, jokingly, he said, as if writing it: "I am getting a whole crapload of action. Man, the babes around here love me. Gary is too busy winning metals to notice, though. He's got six already, but that's okay, because I've managed to get to third base three times with three different-"
Tracey reached out and smacked him with his forearm- about the only spot that wasn't burnt. "If I wasn't stuck here I'd kick your ass."
"I'm sure." Gary finished up the letter fast, then folded it up and stuck it in his pocket. "You really think he's gonna get this? I mean, we sent them to the Pokémon Center in Pewter, so I'd think he would go there a lot to visit Brock, but... you know, Ashy-boy might not even be alive."
"We probably would have heard," Tracey said decisively. "The Pokémon League Champ doesn't get blown up and nobody notices."
"Let's just hope our letters are even getting through the post. I heard this guerilla force was blocking the road to the postal plane," Gary pressed, trying to get Tracey to understand that Ash probably hadn't gotten a single letter.
He shrugged. "It'll get through."
"Wish I had that kind of optimism. Too bad for me I'm a realist."
"You're also cocky, self-absorbed, a hopeless flirt, suicidal, and-"
"Yeah? Well you couldn't even draw a crooked line with a ruler," Gary taunted.
"I resent that! Professor Oak said-" they both grew very quiet. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up."
Gary shrugged. "Eh, it's no big deal. It's been a little over a year. You come to terms with this stuff sooner or later." He gave a devil-may-care grin. "Besides, we're all gonna be walking that road pretty soon anyway."
"Thanks for the pep talk," Tracey muttered, rubbing his bandaged hands together nervously. "God, Gary, I'm only twenty-one. I'm not interested in getting killed."
"You think I am? Granted, I've been around a few years longer, but I wanna do something more than this before I die." He looked out the window of the tent, into a lush forest not yet marked with bombs and blood. "Like get married, start a family... maybe finish the legacy grampa never could. Dying in a flaming plane, waving the Kanto flag is a noble death, but it sure as hell ain't the way I wanna go."
There was an awkward pause, both pilots gathering their thoughts.
"Well, this has been another lovely episode of 'War-Torn World,' but I think I'm gonna try and get some sleep," Tracey said after a moment. "You probably ought to do the same. You'll be flying tomorrow, right?"
"Wild Tauros couldn't keep me away." Gary gave Tracey a thumbs-up. "Medal number seven, here I come.
"
"Be careful out there. I don't wanna have to write an obituary tomorrow," Tracey told him.
"Hey, when have a not been? Carefulness is my middle name."
"It isn't even a word."
"Don't back-talk your elders," Gary joked. "Kids these days- no respect. Maybe I'll come by tomorrow evening if I get a chance. See you around."
"You know where to find me," Tracey waved a farewell to his friend, watching as the door closed shut behind him. Tracey stared out the window at the star-streaked sky. He sighed, wishing for the hundredth time he was anywhere but here. "Wherever you are, Ash, Misty, Brock, I hope you're a lot better off than I am."~
Jessie rolled over, opening her eyes slightly to adjust them to the morning light. "What time is it?"
"Not quite nine," James told her, frying what looked like bacon over the fire in a skillet. "You don't have to get up now, if you'd rather sleep."
"I'm used to being up about now," she said, sitting up and looking around. The forest, undergoing a transformation overnight, now seemed inviting and cheerful. The fall breeze played across the forest floor, stirring up leaves and causing Sentret's to dart in-and-out of the swirling mass. Jessie smiled slightly. Even through all this, there was still beauty if you knew where to look. She turned back to the bounty hunter. "I didn't know you could cook."
He shrugged. "You teach yourself over the years. It's not the best, but I manage to choke it down." He slid a piece of bread and bacon in her direction. "Eat it if you want, but it probably won't taste very good."
Jessie bit into the meat testily, then, finding she liked it, ate the rest quickly, followed by bread and a cup of tea. "Not bad. A lot better than the crap I stir up." She looked hopefully at James, hoping to get a smile out of him. Nothing.
After he'd finished eating, he donned the grey cloak again, standing and shouldering his pack and gun. "I'll go with you as far as the edge of Viridian Forest. After that, you're on your own again."
"Nice to see you're escorting me. I gotta tell you, it'll be easier travelling through this forest with someone packing artillery. A knife can only work in so many cases," Jessie said lightly, also putting on her cloak and pack. "Nice day for a stroll in the woods. Shall we, then?"
"I don't see how you can be so cheerful," James remarked as they started down the path. "Just because I'm not going to kill you doesn't mean my employer's going to give up. They'll find someone else."
"Well, you could just tell me who you're employer is. Then, I could track them down and kill them," Jessie suggested.
He shook his head. "I can't do that. Revealing my employer is something I just don't do. It's breaking the code."
"Code?"
"You wouldn't understand."
They walked on in silence for a couple of hours, Jessie enjoying the scenery and James always on the alert. Jessie tried a few times to get a reaction- any reaction- out of him, but it never resulted in anything. How could someone be so emotionless? It was like he really was dead.
'What happened to you, James?' she thought to herself. She'd been through some things, to be sure, but nothing that killed her spirit like his seemed to be. Jessie frowned, still in thought when they reached the edge of the forest.
"This is where we part," he announced. "Good to see you're alive. Maybe we'll cross paths again."
Jessie watched him start to go, but began speaking before she knew what was happening. "James. I have a proposition to make."
He stopped. "I'm listening."
"Someone's after my life. You won't tell me, but you know they won't give up on it. Now, I'm not going to be as lucky as I was the first time. I need someone to help me out- someone who I know could handle the job." She waited. He didn't say anything, so she took it as a sign to keep going. "Since you don't seem to have a definite job at the moment, I'm willing to give you one. I'll hire you as my bodyguard. You'll get food, drink, and room, plus a 30 dollar paycheck every week. If you get tired of it, you can leave, or you can stay until we kill the one behind it. You're choice."
"You told those bandits you didn't have any money. And you told me you had to go to Pewter to make some cash," he reminded her.
"I lied. In reality, I got a lot of money out of being hurt-in-action. I get paid monthly, sort of like a handicapped fee." She laughed. "They decided to count my little limp, fortunately." James didn't say anything. "So, you in?"
He turned slowly to face her. "Could I ever turn you down?" There was the slightest bit of amusement in his voice- the first hint of emotion Jessie had seen in the past two days. It was a good sign.
"Great to know." She faced Pewter Fort, nothing but a sillhouette in the distance right then. "I didn't lie about going to Pewter, though. I need supplies, and I heard an old friend of ours is staying there."
James walked up behind her. "Lead the way."
Jessie started off, James only a few paces behind her, keeping a lookout on things. She smiled, making sure he couldn't see it. There was something oddly comforting about having him following her down a path. Jessie liked it.~
Brock stared out at the path in front of him, blinking rapidly. He had to be imagining things. No one ever came to Pewter, especially down that road. "I need to get my eyes checked."
But, deny it as he did, the two images kept growing bigger, until he could make out two people, a man and a woman, both wearing cloaks (the man's hood was pulled up, so his face was indistinguishable), the woman having bright red hair tied up in a bun. There was no pretending he was seeing things now. In a few minutes they reached the small brass side door. The man stood back away, carrying a deadly-looking laser gun, while the woman slammed the knocker down hard. Brock snapped out of his surprise and went down to let them in. Obviously the couple weren't dangerous, despite the male's gun, so Brock figured after a few questions he'd allow them access.
He slid back the slit, so he could see them, but all they could see were his eyes. "Names, please."
"Anita Lockheart."
"Jacob Carol."
Carol... "The Bounty Hunter?" A nod. "Is your weapon loaded, sir?"
"Of course," he replied simply. "I don't intend to use it on anyone inside."
"He's my bodyguard," the young woman, who looked oddly familiar and called herself Anita, said. "Neither of us will harm you. We're Kanto natives, and I only want room, board and to buy some supplies. Can we come in?"
"Right, of course," he slid back the bolt, opening the door wide enough to let them in and shutting it behind the two. "My name's Brock Harrison. Welcome to Pewter Fort."
"Brock Harrison?" the man repeated. "Looks like you found your old friend, Jess."
"Do I know you?" Brock queried, looking at the woman.
She laughed. "You don't remember us, do you? I guess I can see why- it's been a while, and we've changed a bit." She turned to her friend. "Maybe if you pull your hood down it'll jog his memory."
He did as she said. Brock stared into two emerald eyes, framed by a head of sleek, lavender hair. He looked at the woman. Red hair, clever blue eyes. "Jessie and James. The last two people I would've expected to see around here." The realization hit him. "James, does that mean you're-?" He nodded. Brock whistled. "Silent Death. Never would have thought it."
"Do you know of a place where we can get a roof over our heads and a good meal?" Jessie asked. "We haven't eaten lunch yet."
"Actually, there's an extra room in my family's apartment building. You could stay there if you'd like. My shift's over, so I can take you there," he paused. "But, it'd probably be in your best interests not to. The virus has sort of taken it's grip on the household, you know."
"I've had it already," Jessie said. "You can't get it twice."
James looked around, not liking to be in the open like this. He pulled his hood back up. "I've been around a lot of people with it. I think I'm immune." He turned to Jessie. "You'll be safe here, especially if you're with friends. I know some people I should visit here. I'll be back by nightfall."
"My place is at 1608, Apartment B. You'll be staying in C. Celia will have dinner ready, so you can come in and have some, if you want," Brock invited. James nodded his thanks, then disappeared silently down the street. "He was acting sort of odd. I've never seen him so emotionless."
"Then I'm not the only one who feels it," Jessie thought aloud. As they walked down the street, she remarked, "I'm surprised you gave us such a warm welcome. I thought, what with all that's happened..."
"That I'd call the police on you? No. I don't have any reason to. That was a long time ago. Besides," he added grimly, "there aren't any police to call."
"You do know, I'm sure, that James deserted," Jessie went on. "They always run a list of people who they're after."
He nodded. "That was a long five years ago, though. Didn't that troupe get massacred a little while after?"
"Yes. And so did several of my closest friends, James with them," Jessie said quietly.
"I'm sorry," he said sympathetically. "I certainly know how that feels. But what do you mean by 'James with them'?"
Jessie was surprised at how easy it was to talk to one of the former "kids" she'd hated. "You saw how he was. I don't know, but, from what he said, it sounds like he started acting like that when he got the news that I was dead." She grinned wryly. "Ironic, isn't it, that the only members of that troupe to survive were the deserter and the one legally dead?"
They reached the door of Brock's home. "You can come in, or I you can go to C and I can bring a tray of food over. It can get pretty noisy, and what with Kris being sick-"
"I'll come in. I could use some human company," she decided, hand on the doorknob. After a moment's pause, she asked, "How many have you lost?"
"Six, including my father," he answered somewhat shakily. "Three to attackers, three to the sickness. Kris might be next..."
Jessie, unsure of what else to do, followed him inside. A young woman, just a little over nineteen, stood behind a stove making a quick meal. Two teens around 12 sat around the TV, watching a news program, and another was curled up in a chair reading a book. The atmosphere was a pleasant one, though the closed door and sounds of tortured hacking gave it an aura of depression.
The young woman cooking and the girl reading looked up.
"A guest? Now there's a first," the cooker said. She wiped her hands off on an apron and walked over to greet Jessie. "I'm Celia. The one reading is Frita, and the two in front of the TV are Gwen and Zach." She winced at the sound of a cough in the background. "Sorry that we aren't a little more hospitable, but it's been pretty hectic. If you'd like to stay for lunch, you're welcome to."
"Hey, Brock, who's your new girlfriend?" Zach teased, finally noticing the new visitor.
"Zach, grow up," Gwen reprimanded. "Boys are impossible."
"Shut up! All you ever do is squawk about something stupid! I'm sick of listening to it."
"Then don't. Now be quiet- this is the only entertainment show we ever get, and I already missed who the culprit was."
"It's a re-run! You've seen it a million times!"
Celia smiled. "They're twins. They fight like that all the time." She headed back over to the small kitchen area. "It's just some sandwiches, leftover soup, and some tea, but if you're not starving it'll hold you over."
"Brock makes the best meisou soup, too," the girl reading, called Frita, piped up. "Even when it's not completely fresh it's still absolutely amazing!"
Jessie took her meal with the squabbling family, loving every minute of it. Never having a real family of her own as a child, it was nice to see how a normal group of people lived. Brock hadn't been so unlucky- the group had turned out amazingly well, in spite of growing up in war and parentless.
While Celia and Zach were cleaning up the dishes, Brock volunteered to show Jessie around, and take her to a good supplies store.
"Um, Brock," Gwen stopped him. "Kris wanted to know if you could go in. He needs someone to talk to, and since you're the only one immune to it..."
"Right." He looked to Jessie. "You don't mind?"
"No, of course not. I understand completely."
Frita immediately jumped in. "I can show you around, Miss Smitt, if you'd like. There's not much to see, but if you want-"
"Call me Jessie," she corrected. "And, if it's okay with you, I'd rather just go alone. I need a little time to myself."
"Oh. Sure,definitely! Um, I guess you'll be back for dinner?" Frita wondered.
"Probably. A friend of mine will be coming too," Jessie explained.
"Wow. Two people in one day! You have no idea how boring it is around here, always the same faces. Nice to see someone new for a change."
Jessie said her thanks to the family again, closing the door with some reluctance and heading down the street. She felt sorry for Brock, after losing so many from this war, but at the same time felt a pang of jealousy. He'd had it tough- the Harrison family all had- but at least they had each other throughout it all. Neither she, nor James, had been so lucky; they'd had to handle the whole thing alone.
She bought her supplies slowly, then strolled through the small fort, thinking and enjoying the change of scenery. As the sun started to set, a cloaked figure fell into step beside her.
"Nice to have you back. You missed a marvelous lunch," Jessie commented. "So, how were your assassin friends?"
"Fine," he said. "How did you know they were assassins?"
"People like to group with their own. Like, I enjoy the company of other people totally lost in life," Jessie told him.
"Hence why you employed me," he concluded.
They had reached the apartment. "Here we are."
"I'm going to our own room," James said. "If you'd bring me over something-"
Jessie interrupted. "You're coming in, and you're going to be social for once. I think it'll do you some good."
James followed her wordlessly, taking in the hectic scene in a moment. Celia came up to him, sticking out a hand as she had done to Jessie. "You must be James. Otherwise known as Silent Death. Pewter's heard some stories about you, like I'm sure most places have." She turned back to help Brock in the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. The world news is just about to start, if you'd like to watch."
James and Jessie took seats on the floor next to Gwen, Zach and Frita. Faintly James heard a restless cough, knowing immediately what it was. He shot Jessie a nervous look, that seemed to say, "Why am I here?"
Zach looked over when he sat down. "Oh my God. You're that assassin guy, aren't you?"
James nodded.
"That is so cool! I'm sorry, but we hear stuff about you on the news, and how good you are-" he stared at the laser gun. "These things are top notch! Only the best ranking generals get to carry one! How did you ever find it?"
James shrugged. "I have my ways."
"Zach, stop scaring him," Gwen snapped. "Lord in heaven, you'd think he was some big hero or something."
"But he is! He never fails! He's the very best! If this guy was fighting the war, it'd be wack! bam! good-bye enemies! They wouldn't have a chance!"
"Look at that, now he's blushing. Congratulations, Zach, you managed to embarass him. Nice first impression."
Frita, tired of the conversation, grabbed two rice balls that were sitting on the table (an unfinished snack) and shoved them in the quarreling duo's mouths. "Can't you fight during a commercial? This is interesting. We just attacked Yumar."
Jessie heard an odd sound to her left. Looking over, she realized it was coming from her bodyguard. She leaned in, trying to see what he was doing under the hood. To Jessie's amazement, James was LAUGHING. It was quiet, and odd-sounding, like he hadn't done it in years, but there was no doubt what it was. She smiled, and leaned in against him. He wasn't completely dead yet, and Jessie was going to make sure it stayed that way.~
It took Misty a minute to remember where she was. Once she had, she wished she hadn't. Rolling over, she saw Ash standing at the entrance to the cave, the cover now pulled back. The sun was shining in, and the rain glistening off the rocks had a sort of serene beauty to it.
"The storm's stopped," he pointed out needlessly. "We can leave now, if you want."
"We?" Misty wondered. "What do you mean?"
Ash kept his back to her, surveying the sun-soaked mountains on all sides of him. "Maybe I took what you said yesterday to heart. Maybe I just feel I need to see some old friends again before we're all killed. At any rate, I'm going to Pewter with you."
Misty wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. "At least you're starting to sound compassionate again. But, I was hoping that you'd think of telling the Elite to help put a stop to this."
"I'm giving the human race another try," he explained. "If I decide we're worth saving, then I'll get them to help. If not-"
"You go up to your mountain haven and wait for the bombs to stop flying," Misty spat. "No, there's no change from last night. You haven't gone through some magical evolution in twelve hours."
"I could just go there now, and forget I ever met you," he turned to give her a sharp look. "Would you prefer that?"
She thought for a moment. "No. No, I'd rather you give it a chance then condemn us so quickly. But if you wait too long, it won't make a difference anyway."
"Two months. No more, no less," came the reply. "Get your things together, and we'll leave. There's a small town at the foot of the mountain- we can eat lunch there." He tossed her a single piece of fruit. "That should hold you over for a few hours."
She considered throwing it back at his thick head, but thought better of it. "Thanks."
Shouldering their things, the duo set off down the mountain. It was tough going, what with the rain from the night before, but Ash knew the right paths and led them safely to the bottom. A small town greeted Misty warmly enough, but seemed a bit cold to the Pokémon League Champion. After a small meal they started off again.
"We should reach Viridian Forest by nightfall," Ash announced. "From there, it's about a day's journey to Pewter." For some reason, he felt the need to give Misty a vicious smile. "That is, unless we meet up with some bandits. They're packed in Viridian, you know."
"I'm not afraid of a couple of thugs," she assured him.
"A couple? I'm talking about gangs of twenty, who'll rob you penniless and kill you in cold blood," Ash emphasized, chuckling darkly. "See why I'm sick of people, now?"
Misty shuddered. "You have a twisted, tortured mind Ashton Ketchum."
'And yet,' she thought, 'I can't help but be glad to have him travelling with me.'~
Gary's plane had gone down. Tracey couldn't believe the news when Erika told him.
"When? How is he? Did they find him?" he demanded, after letting it sink in for a moment.
"It happened yesterday. Everyone was too busy with the injured to tell you, though. They found him, and he's alive. Though, he may not want to be," Erika said.
Tracey raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
She sighed, unwilling to tell him what had happened.
"Erika. Why not?"
"He lost a leg, Tracey," she spilled out. "From the knee down. Gone."
"Oh. God." Those were the only words that would come out.
"They're going to send him home in a couple of weeks. Though, home to where, your guess is as good as mine," she continued. "Actually, that's the other reason I came in. The general told me to tell you they got in several new recruits. Normally, he wouldn't let someone off on some burns, but, because you'll probably have a nasty limp for the rest of your life, and with the new pilots... you'll be going home with Gary. If you want to."
Tracey, even through the sorrow for his friend, felt his heart stick in his throat. Home. Thank the Lord. "Is he awake yet?"
She nodded. "If you want... I suppose I could let you see him. He's back in the intensive unit. Do you think you're well enough to walk?"
Tracey ran a hand over his face, where he could feel the scar tissue. Most of the bandages had come off that morning, except for his left hand. "Yeah. I'm a little shaky, but... I'll be okay."
He stood up, and using the wall for some support, was able to get around without much trouble.
"I'll be back up front if you need anything," she said, walking out.
He made his way to the back area, where Gary was sitting. He was leaning back, eyes closed, though by his breathing Tracey could tell he was awake. "Gar'?"
The pilot opened his eyes, looking over. "Looks like your wish came true, huh? We get to go on back to good ol' Kanto. Can't say that I'm not happy about it, but I wouldn't have minded getting released in a more glorious way." Neither of them could seem to look down at the knotted-up jean. "Oh, I got that seventh medal, though, and I hear they're giving me a Purple Heart too. Not bad, eh?"
"Great," Tracey agreed. He leaned against the wall. "Glad to see you in such a good mood. I thought, what with, well, you know-"
"Hey, this is me. I get fall in a hole, I'll dig myself out. No use crying about it, you know. And I hear the girls love war veterans," he laughed, but his heart wasn't in it.
"So, exactly what home do we plan on going back to?" Tracey asked after a moment.
"There's only about two cities left that planes will fly to," Gary commented. "Pewter and Celadon, I think."
"Pewter, then?"
A nod. "We might as well dump ourselves on Brock for a while."
Tracey shifted awkwardly, not sure what to say. "Couple weeks?"
"That's the estimate. But, they don't know me very well," Gary put his hands behind his head. "I figure we'll be out of here in seven days, tops. That's how long it's gonna take me to get back on my... foot." The ending fell flat. He gave a fake yawn, indicating he was done talking. "All this medal-winning has wiped me out. I'm gonna hit the sack."
"Right. Maybe I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Maybe. See you."
Tracey limped out, resting against the wall right outside Gary's room for a moment. One skill Tracey had developed over the years was observing people, and Pokémon, amazingly well. Gary could pretend all he wanted, but Tracey knew that now, on top of his family's deaths, he had this to deal with, and he was having a hard time. He risked a peek back into the intensive unit. Gary was turned away from him, but the young artist could tell by his shaking shoulders that he was crying. His heart sank.
"When I said I wanted to go home," he whispered to no one. "I didn't mean like this."
Chapter Two: The GatheringChapter Index
