A teenage boy's been staring at Barry for the past thirty minutes.

Here Barry was, minding his own damn business training his Pokemon, and there comes this perfect pristine pompous boy, knee-high jeans and kempt tie and all, just staring like he has no concept of manners.

He's holding a little machine in his hands, not quite a Pokedex, but a more complicated-looking radar communicator-esque device for sure. But he wasn't focusing on that, he had his full attention on Barry specifically.

"Oh, sorry, don't mind me," he says.

It's very hard not to.

In fact, every time Barry made a bit of a misstep, the boy would frown, or roll his eyes, or click his tongue in disapproval. It was getting really annoying. Also, why is he so clean? This is the marshlands, even if you didn't fall, you should at least have some mud on your shoes. So the fact that this guy didn't have any— definitely meant that he's been avoiding all the mud like an acrobatic master, or he's been making some Pokemon take the dirt for him.

Barry finally stops when he defeats the Croagunk, glaring in the boy's direction.

Croagunks are hard to fight, since they're fast, and poisonous, and he doesn't have a decent super effective move outside of Staravia. He needed to learn something new, or get somehow better, but he's making no progress no matter how many he fights.

He's frustrated.

And the boy just scowls, "you are filthy."

That's it.

"Major!" Barry yells, throwing Munchlax's Poke Ball into the air. It opens right above the boy— whose eyes widen in horror, but he doesn't get out of the way before Munchlax spreadeagles and magnificently crashes onto him, plunging him right into the deeper swamps in an instant.

Barry laughs boisterously.

"Who's filthy now?!"

Prinplup whacks him over the head.

-

"I am very sorry," Barry is made to get on his knees and apologize.

"YES, YOU SHOULD BE."

They'd found a grotto nearby, clothes taken off to be washed by a very careful Azumarill. Prinplup was observing carefully. Now they were dressed in a little more than their coats, around the campfire that was Ponyta sitting still. A Medicham was helping Staravia get the fishing line out, trying to figure out how and where to attach them so they could function as clotheslines.

The boy, who was maybe a handful of years older than Barry, had introduced himself as Thorton.

"You're lucky that my machine didn't get destroyed by that spelunking you did," he sneers. "Unbelievable. Irredeemable."

"Well, you were annoying me!"

"And short-tempered!" Thorton exclaims.

"You're picking a fight!"

"Bzweeeeeep! 82% of the time, fights pick me!" Thorton responds, turning his attention briefly to his device again, "ah, don't mind that number too much. Now, what is this..."

Apparently, he'd come here to investigate strange power readings in the area. There's been strange activity in these parts, so the Pokemon Association's asked him to make the effort to travel in. In fact, he's supposed to be escorted by someone local, but he's gotten distracted and lost along the way.

"My machine's been malfunctioning since I entered mainland Sinnoh. It is quite strange," Thorton says. "Not even the map is displaying well."

"Isn't it because that thing's just useless?"

"You're really starting to grind my gears!"

"Then fight me, punk! Don't think I'll be easy just cause you're older than me!"

Eventually, Thorton's Heracross has to come in, physically holding their faces apart before they jump and chew it off for each other.

Barry scoffs.

He checks his Pokedex, a little stumped to find that it's also malfunctioning slightly. The flavor text was slightly corrupted here and there, and location sightings were unable to display at all. It was alright yesterday, which meant that the further East he went, the worse the problem got.

The common factor to this all was...

"Could it be psychic waves?" he suggests.

Thorton raises a brow. "Psychic?" he asks. Instead of dismissing it, though, he actually contemplates. "Yes, psychic interference has been known to disrupt mechanical devices. But so do electric readings. What makes you think the former?"

So it's possible!

"You flew into the mainland, so you wouldn't know what's happening around cities now," Barry says, leaning over immediately. "But I'm thinking Team Galactic has something to do with it! There's this Commander with a Kadabra, and then my friend's Psyduck went missing..."

Surprisingly, despite kicking off on the wrong foot, they hit it off immediately when it came to speculating.

-

Crasher Wake finds them in the sunset.

The rock of the cave walls are chalk-drawn with what looked like a vague map of Sinnoh. There were marks and words scribbled over it, and the two of them were still chatting fervently over some doodles of human faces that were labeled 'commanders'.

"Luce said she was purple, whatever that means," Barry frowns. "I still don't believe it's a real colour."

"Bzweeeeeep! Purple is 33% red, 10% green, 55% blue," Thorton responds. "You are right. It is not a real colour. Colour in itself is not real, it is just an infraction of light that people have perceived and given names to."

"Aha!" Barry says, victorious. "I don't get it, but aha!"

Crasher Wake stands, baffled, and hard of breath.

He'd charged through the drizzle in his coat, having been fervently searching for lost boy #1 over there the entire day, thinking he'd get murdered to death if Darach, or arceus forbid, Argenta, finds out he lost the kid.

And then here Thorton was, making friends while wearing nothing but a coat over his boxers, with a kid that he's very damn sure is the other lost kid Byron asked him to look out for.

There was a Ponyta warming up the room, and most of the other Pokemon were huddled around it. A Munchlax was eating from a pile of Poffins, sharing one with Thorton's Medicham. A Prinplup sleeps beside Azumarill, while Staravia and Ledian seem to be chatting about something.

"So I was thinking since they had a building in Veils—ugah-WAHH?!" Barry notices Crasher Wake partway through his sentence, "WHooo are you? WHEN'd you get here?"

"Ah, Mister Wake," Thorton says, stoical, "good to see you. I've been waiting."

"...Kid," Crasher Wake says, sounding three kinds of exhausted, "I know the general rule of 'when you're lost' is 'stay in one place', but there's a limit to being relaxed."

"I got muddy," Thorton says, directing their attention to the clothesline with their clothes upon it. It's drizzling out there, so it's impossible for it to get any drier, but Ponyta was contributing a little. Then, to the other young man in the area, "meet young Barry, this is Mister Wake, my escort."

"Uhm, nice to meet you?"

"Nice meeting ya, kid!"

"He's also the Gym Leader of Pastoria."

"...He's the WHO of WHAT?!" Barry yelps. Then, "Oh– Mister Wake, as in Crasher Wake! I've definitely heard of you. My dad talked about you a lot."

"Your dad?" Thorton asks.

"Hmm? Ah, you said you were from the Battle Zone, so you might have heard of him?" Barry says. "His name is Palmer, I think he operates the Battle Tower there."

The entire grotto falls into horrified silence.

Then, Thorton dramatically jerks back against the wall, arms thrown into the air as he gets away, desperately. "You're the son of WHO?!"

-

The rain doesn't let up, even after dinner.

"It'll only get worse come nighttime," Wake says, looking out with a frown. The boys are getting dressed, because the cavern's imminent to flood soon, and they'll have to get out now if they don't want to get really stranded.

"So, Palmer's son," Thorton says, like a jibe, "you got any more business in the marshlands?"

Barry rolls his eyes. "I came here to train, but for now, I need to find Doozy," he says. "My best bet is following your machine's malfunctions, so Pastoria's where I need to go."

Apparently, everything in Pastoria was malfunctioning, from light bulbs to the Great Marsh's shuttles. That must be where it's most concentrated, then, since if it were happening all over the region there'd be a much bigger fuss.

"Well, good then!" Crasher Wake grins. "I've been wondering about the children Fantina entrusted to me. It'd put me at ease to have you in arm's reach."

Barry sighs. "You know, I'm not so sure how I feel about taking advantage of your kindness just because I'm apparently an oh-so important Pokedex Holder or something..."

"Haha! The concerns of a blessed child, huh?" Crasher Wake laughs. "Don't worry about it! Sometimes, you just have to take a ride in the waves that come at you, and you'll one day end up somewhere nice to rest your feet."

Huh. What a metaphor.

"So until then," Crasher Wake steps up to him with a smile. "You'll just have to get dragged around by tides stronger than you! That's how you grow!"

Huh.

"Look. We've got company."

From the hollows, across the roots of the mangroves and from within the mud, Pokemon emerged. Croagunk, Kricketune, and...

..."I've never seen that one before," Barry says, frowning. The Pokedex... "Smeargle?"

"Once in a while, you'll find hordes of Pokemon that never appear in the area suddenly show up enraged," Thorton says, as if he was reading from a textbook, "this unique phenomenon occurs seasonally, and is most often referred to as..."

"Swarming," Barry breathes. It's his first time being in the center of one.

"Exactly," Thorton says.

Crasher Wake releases a Floatzel, Gyarados, and Armaldo. Thorton's Azumarill holds Barry's Pokemon back, keeping them safely within the cavern.

"But what do we do?" Barry says. "There's way too many."

"Bzweeeeeep!" Thorton hollers, and Barry squeaks in surprise at the loud volume. "You see, Palmer's son, if Palmer himself were here, there's a 92% chance he'd say this. As, don't mind that number. But basically—"

When Thorton finishes his sentence, Crasher Wake is right there with him.

"There's no challenge that's impossible to conquer!"

And, in the tempestuous rain, skidding fervently across the raging storms, Wake's Pokemon blustered forward, smiles of excitement plastered across their faces. The orders came loud and uproarious, and even as they were critically outnumbered, Crasher Wake charged on forward, cyclonic and tumultuous as the storm itself.

Thorton observes cheerfully from his spot, inspecting the data on his slightly choppy device.

But Barry's eyes were fixed forward, filled with immense passion, the man's unabated zeal thrown off the swamplands as he thrives on his home ground. He charges through, taking Pokemon attacks as much as he's dealing them, and when a wild Quasire challenges him personally, he takes it, physical wrestling and all.

Barry knew instantly why his father always spoke of him with admiration.

This was the fervor that the Pearlstein family strives for, continues to live up to, and the enthusiasm Barry's lost, somewhere along the way. Prinplup looks upon the scene with fascination. They were all water pokemon, just like him, but they faced down all the attacking Pokemon with ten times more ease.

"P–" Barry starts.

"P?" Thorton asks.

Barry screams into the storm. "PLEASE MAKE ME YOUR DISCIPLE, MISTER CRASHER WAKE!"

-

-

-

Luce was a little stumped.

They'd come in the Lost Tower to train, but Monferno just wasn't having it. The fog was a problem, but Monferno blew away opponents with Flamethrower— when did he learn that— and ranged attacks. He instinctively knew punching wouldn't work, but he didn't want to physically touch anything either.

Instead, he held Luce's hand in a death grip, and glared at everything like it personally offended him.

He barks sharply at Luce, and the message was clear.

Stay where I can see you!

It's only after Monferno violently scorches the entire room of wild Pokemon that Luce wonders if this was a good idea.

Something shines in the corner of the room, and Luce leaves a distracted Monferno behind to inspect it. It's a textured purple cloth, shimmering in parts, scruffed in others from age. It resembled a scarf...

...ah, is this, perhaps, a Reaper Cloth?

Monferno shrieks, all of a sudden, and Luce spins around abruptly to find Monferno desperately retaliating against a Duskull that'd burst out into laughter. Apparently, Monferno got jumpscared by that little rascal. So now Monferno chases, flaming fists and ruined pride and all.

Finally, Monferno lunges onto Luce, wailing.

Oh dear. Luce turns around to find the Duskull preparing another jumpscare. It gets surprised instead because Luce notices it first.

Luce pats Monferno on the head, holding up the Reaper Cloth. Duskull inspects it, before grabbing it, curling into it, and then spinning rapidly so it wound around its body, like a cat with some yarn

Then it beams, proud of itself.

Well... this was something new, at least.

-

Luce makes it to Solaceon Town early in the morning, just in time for things to really get started on this little village town. He stands his bike beside the Pokemon Center, heading in to deposit his Pokemon.

He kept Togepi in his arms and headed out again.

He hesitates in front of the Poke Mart door. He hasn't needed to come into one by himself since Jubilife. He prepared a list of things he needed this time, too, but...

"Are you going in?"

He jumps.

Spinning back and turning up toward the taller figure— Luce's eyes widen. He steps back quickly and out of the way of the door, but the older man doesn't step in yet.

Instead, he stares quite pointedly at Luce's hat, and then, he takes out a Pokegear, inspecting a picture of some sort.

"Ah, I see. You're the kid Aaron's looking out for," he says. "Luce, if I'm right? Aaron made a whole fuss out of the fact that we're both 'Luce's."

This was Elite Four Psychic type Specialist— Lucian, in the flesh. And unlike Steven, he's very good at laying low. His hair's tied up, he's not wearing that signature maroon blazer, and he looks like a rather unassuming traveler in a collared shirt that doesn't really fit his appearance.

Luce manages to nod. Their names were very similar... how didn't he notice this before?

"So, I heard you were a duo?"

Luce jumps when he realizes he's just asked a question. Putting Togepi down on the bike rack— huh, Togepi knows how to hold on, that's interesting— he retrieves his stylus, reaching for his Poketch.

The buttons weren't working.

Stumped, he tries again, wondering if he'd hit it too hard or if it was broken. That couldn't be, so why...

"It appears that electronic devices are malfunctioning recently, especially in these parts," Lucian reveals, and Luce blanches. How inconvenient.

He retrieves his notepad.

"[We split up,]" he says.

"I see..." Lucian hums as Luce picks Togepi back up. "...this might come out of nowhere, but do you have any Psychic-type Pokemon?"

Luce considers nodding, but he shakes his head.

"[My Psyduck went missing]," he says. It's not a Psychic type, but it's the closest thing he has to one. He's also caught a Ralts, but he's planning on giving that to Barry, so it's not really something he can call his.

Lucian nods. "That's been happening all over the region lately, along with this sudden issue with electronics. It's most potent in this town, though Pastoria and Veilstone are quite heavily affected as well."

Luce blinks at that new information. Electrical shortages, Psychic type Pokemon going missing... "[are they related]?"

Lucian smiles, proud of the quick conclusion. "That's what I'm here to find out," he bows a little, a butler-like greeting, a bemused smile. "So, young Pokedex Holder. Since you're affected personally by this, would you like to help in my research?"

Luce wonders if that smile means this man's just trying to take advantage of him. Or he's just using this as an excuse to continue the 'Pokedex Holder Special treatment' chain.

Either way...

"[Help me buy stuff from the Poke Mart]," he says. Then, when Lucian looks mildly stunned, he adds a chastised, "[please?]"

-

"...is that really all you want in exchange?" Lucian asks, still bewildered.

Luce is very satisfied, tucking everything in his bag happily. Crisis averted, now to focus on the more important things, like actually getting Psyduck back.

"Thank you!"

"You're one strange child," Lucian says. "Well, that's fine. So I'll brief you on what I've got so far."

They pick up his Pokemon from the Pokemon Center. Monferno immediately takes Togepi and Buneary finds a spot on Luce's head, and they all glare very skeptically at Lucian. Duskull's asleep, disliking the daytime, and Ralts wasn't much of a socialite.

Meanwhile, Lucian had a Girafarig out, a saddle packed with papers and books.

"Psychic Pokemon in general have been uneasy, as of late. I checked the ruins, and the Unown are all apprehensive. It's clear they're sensing something off about the situation," Lucian says. "You said it's Team Galactic up to some trouble?"

"[They got a lot of money from Mr Backlot]," Luce says, inspecting the physical Town Map for a moment. He points out Veilstone City. "[They moved out from Eterna, so all their activities are going to be here in East Sinnoh]."

What was that thing in Valley Windworks?

[The bringer of aging... your target is the Pokemon that sleeps on today. The dream energy. Team Galactic.]

It's about Azelf, in Lake Valor. Luce can tell easily from all the clues— there's so much activity in these parts because Lake Valor's right around the corner, and they're essentially beta testing their final plans.

But how will Luce tell him that without sounding like a conspiracy theory maniac?

"There's a commotion up the route," Lucian points out.

Luce lifts his head. The town was quiet, for most of the working adults have gone up Route 210 to investigate a strange phenomenon.

A Psyduck horde, cluttered so tightly against each other, all wailing at their headaches, creating a physic force field so potent, nothing could come within a hundred feet of it.

"My store's just barely out of range," whines the owner of the Moomoo Milk Cafe.

"What's wrong with them? Where did they come from?"

"It was fine just yesterday— no, they weren't here last night either!"

Lucian frowns. Luce wants to go up, to look for his Psyduck— but Lucian holds him back. He understands why when he sees a few older men bowled over, heavily nauseated after approaching too closely.

He had no way of determining which Psyduck was his own.

(It's not like he could loudly call her name.)

"...this is troubling," Lucian says. "I can't use my Pokegear, and the PC isn't working, so I might have to fly out... but no, I'm not sure if she is out of the area either..."

Luce has no idea what he's in a soliloquy about, but he looks around, seeing the common citizens flustered about this, too. The passage to Celestic Town was obstructed.

Monferno's brows were furrowed, looking deeply toward the huge crowd. It was impossible to make out one Psyduck from the other, and Buneary wasn't having much luck, either.

No Galactic Admins around.

If they were releasing all their Psyducks now, it must mean that they're done using them.

But for what?

...ah, he realizes, belatedly. Psychic power can be used as an alternative power source, the only problem being it's not storable for long periods, unlike electricity.

They only have a limited amount of electricity to spare, so they won't waste it. If they used Psychic Energy to charge up something, they'd use it immediately. Maybe they fueled a machine, and let the Psyducks go immediately after. And like magnets, they attracted each other in the centrepoint, which led to this swarming cluster of Psyducks, huddling together, trying to instinctively protect themselves from the threat.

What did Team Galactic need energy for, again?

(They're essentially beta testing their final plans.)

Luce's stomach sinks in horror. To test the firepower of the Galactic Bo—

He spins back, in the direction of Pastoria City, but it's too late.

Explosions happen in three areas at the same time. In the distance, clearly in the direction of Celestic Town right nearby, and behind them, in Pastoria City. The third one was much further away, off the coast, seemingly a much more random spot off the shores of... he wasn't sure. That wasn't quite Sandgem. He can't check the map, either.

Luce's eyes blow wide.

A bomb isn't supposed to go off in Celestic Town. In the games, a threat was made, but it's not a threat that's meant to be fulfilled. Part of the story was to defeat Cyrus in the ruins there and stop him from destroying it.

And yet... it's gone off, and Luce is nowhere near enough.

"Wh—" Lucian curses as the citizens devolve straight into mass panic, horror reverberating through every soul that heard it, felt the tremors, and couldn't even do a thing to help their isolated neighboring town.

Luce needed to go. Fly— Fly there. We need to rent some Staraptor Flights—

"Luce!" Lucian takes him by the shoulders. He crouches down, and very pointedly, very firmly— he emphasizes. "You can't go."

Oh.

Oh. So he was here to stop Luce from doing anything reckless, after all. Of course. What did he expect?

"Look— Cynthia's coming anytime now, since that's her hometown," he says. "It's fortunate, but most of us Elite Trainers are in the area. We'll handle this— so calm down, first. Your job here is to focus on getting your Psyduck back."

No. No, Lucian still doesn't know for sure that those explosions are directly related to the issue. The plot's rushing ahead. That wasn't even the real bomb yet.

Luce doesn't know how much time he has left until the real thing happens.

This isn't a game, after all. Events aren't activated according to the movements of the Trainer, they're activated whenever the actual hell they want.

"Listen, Luce," Lucian crouches down, facing him eye to eye. "Even if you go, even if you face Team Galactic now, there's nothing you can do."

And Luce's stomach sinks.

He's only got two badges. His Pokemon team is scrambled together at best.

Lucian is right.

Luce is horribly underleveled for anything that's going to come, and that's only made worse by the fact that the events are coming faster than he can train. He can't waste time chasing after events he knows he can't do anything about.

"I'm not coddling you, Luce," Lucian says. "But I know it's inevitable you'll get involved, since you're a Pokedex Holder. I can't stop you when it's really time for it."

A Pokedex Holder. An owner of the Pokedex, a chosen one, the protagonist of this world.

"But what I can do, as an adult, and as a fellow trainer, is watch over you until you're ready to live up to those expectations," Lucian says. "Please, allow us to do that much."

Luce hated that sentiment. He could hear Barry making a tantrum over how stupid this way, how pointless, how despicable, to say that to a child.

But he also knew that he had to do it.

This was a world where destiny deigned you to be a hero, whether you liked it or not. Maybe there was a reason Red of the original games ran up a fucking mountain. Maybe there was a reason Hilbert of Unova never came home. Maybe they realized, too, that they were playing to a tune that wasn't their own.

This was that kind of world, and there was nothing he could do about it.

And Luce hated that, from the bottom of his heart, he, too, wanted to be a hero.