The chaos of Goldenrod City eventually subsided, though "subsided" was perhaps too strong a word. The crowds thinned as evening approached, people reluctantly returning to their homes and jobs, but he could still feel eyes on him wherever he went. Whispers followed him like shadows, phones raised to capture his image at every opportunity.
He had retreated to a quiet park on the city's eastern edge, seeking a moment of peace before deciding his next move. The partner Pikachu sat beside him on a bench, still clutching its plushie, occasionally nibbling on the last of the homemade cookies.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that reminded him of his evenings on Mt. Silver. Different view, same beauty.
His moment of peace lasted approximately four minutes.
"No way. No freaking way."
The voice came from behind him—young, male, carrying a mixture of disbelief and excitement that he had become unfortunately familiar with over the past few hours.
He turned to find two trainers approaching. Boys, both of them, probably around Ash's age. One had spiky black hair beneath a backwards cap and wore a red jacket that looked well-traveled. The other had long red hair that fell past his shoulders and an expression of practiced indifference that couldn't quite hide his curiosity.
The black-haired boy was practically vibrating with energy. "It's really you! Red! The Champion! I heard you were in the city, but I didn't actually believe—I mean, you never come down from the mountain, and—"
"Gold." The red-haired boy's voice was flat, cutting through his companion's rambling. "You're embarrassing yourself."
"I'm not embarrassing myself, Silver! This is RED! The strongest trainer in the world! How can you not be excited?"
Gold and Silver. The names triggered something in Red's memories—fragments of information about the trainers who had been making waves in Johto recently. Gold was from New Bark Town, had received his starter from Professor Elm, was currently challenging the gym circuit with impressive success. Silver was more mysterious, his origins unclear, but his skill was undeniable.
They were rivals, apparently. Much like Red and Blue had been, years ago.
Gold had reached the bench now, bouncing on his heels with barely contained enthusiasm. "Can I battle you? Please? I know I probably can't win, but I've been training SO hard, and my team is really strong now, and—"
"He just destroyed Whitney's Miltank in thirty seconds," Silver interrupted, his voice carrying a note of warning. "With a single Pikachu. You'd last even less."
"You don't know that! My Typhlosion is way stronger than a Miltank!"
"Your Typhlosion lost to my Feraligatr last week."
"That was a fluke!"
He watched the exchange with something approaching amusement. The dynamic between them was familiar—the enthusiastic rival pushing forward, the cooler head trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. It reminded him of Ash and... well, anyone Ash interacted with, really.
The partner Pikachu chirped a greeting, waving at the two boys with its free paw. Gold's attention immediately shifted to the electric-type.
"Oh wow, your Pikachu is so cute! Is this the one that beat Whitney? It looks so friendly! Can I pet it?"
He nodded permission, and Gold immediately crouched down to offer the Pikachu his hand. The electric-type sniffed once, deemed him acceptable, and allowed itself to be scratched behind the ears.
"It's so soft," Gold breathed reverently. "And it's holding a little plushie! That's adorable!"
Silver had hung back, his arms crossed, his expression still guarded. But his eyes—his eyes were fixed on Red with an intensity that spoke of something more than casual interest.
"You're really him," Silver said quietly. "The one who took down Team Rocket. Who defeated Giovanni."
He nodded slowly, curious about where this was going.
"My father spoke of you." Silver's voice had gone cold, each word carefully controlled. "Before he disappeared. He said you were the only trainer who ever truly defeated him."
Father. Giovanni. The pieces clicked into place with sudden, uncomfortable clarity.
Silver was Giovanni's son.
The boy must have seen the recognition in his eyes, because his expression hardened further. "I'm not like him. I don't care about power for its own sake, don't want to control the world or build some criminal empire. But I need to know—" He stepped closer, his hands clenched at his sides. "I need to know if I can surpass what he was. If I can become strong enough to escape his shadow."
Gold had stopped petting the Pikachu, his cheerful demeanor fading as he registered the tension in his rival's voice. "Silver..."
"A battle." Silver's eyes never left Red's face. "That's what I want. Not now—I know I'm not ready. But someday. A real battle, with everything on the line. Will you accept?"
He considered the boy before him—the anger barely hidden beneath the surface, the desperate need to prove himself, the weight of a legacy he had never asked for. It was different from Ash's challenge, which had been born of admiration and ambition. This was something darker, something more personal.
But it was also genuine. Silver wasn't asking for fame or glory. He was asking for a chance to define himself as something other than Giovanni's son.
He nodded once, firmly.
Silver's expression flickered—surprise, then something that might have been gratitude, quickly suppressed. "Good. I'll hold you to that."
"Hey, what about me?" Gold interjected, his enthusiasm returning now that the tension had broken. "I want to challenge you too! I'm going to be the Champion someday, and that means I'll have to beat you eventually!"
He raised an eyebrow, projecting skepticism without words.
"I know, I know, I'm not strong enough yet. But I'm getting there! I already have six badges, and my team is really coming together, and—"
A distant explosion cut him off.
All four of them—Red, Gold, Silver, and the partner Pikachu—turned toward the source of the sound. It had come from the direction of the city center, somewhere near the Radio Tower. A column of smoke was rising against the sunset sky, dark and ominous.
"What was that?" Gold asked, his playful demeanor vanishing entirely.
Another explosion, smaller than the first but closer. Screams echoed through the evening air, the sound of panic spreading through the streets.
Silver's eyes had narrowed. "Team Rocket," he said, the name carrying venom. "It has to be."
He was already moving before Silver finished speaking.
The scene at the Radio Tower was chaos.
Rocket grunts swarmed the building's entrance, their black uniforms standing out against the evening light. They had set up barricades, blocking access to the tower, while civilians fled in every direction. More grunts were positioned on the surrounding rooftops, their Pokémon providing cover for whatever operation was happening inside.
He assessed the situation in seconds. At least thirty grunts visible, probably more inside the tower. Their Pokémon were a mix of the usual Rocket fare—Rattata, Zubat, Koffing, with a few stronger specimens scattered among the ranks. Not individually threatening, but their numbers could pose a problem.
The partner Pikachu's cheeks were sparking dangerously, its previous playfulness replaced by battle-ready intensity. It had faced Team Rocket before, in Red's memories—had helped take down their operations time and time again. This was familiar territory.
Gold and Silver had followed him, arriving just seconds behind. Both had Poké Balls in hand, ready to join the fight.
"We should split up," Gold suggested, his voice tight with tension. "Hit them from multiple angles, keep them off-balance—"
He held up a hand, silencing the younger trainer.
Then he stepped forward, into full view of the Rocket grunts.
The reaction was immediate.
"Who's that?"
"Some trainer thinks he can—wait."
"Is that... no way."
"IT'S RED!"
The name spread through the Rocket ranks like wildfire, and he watched expressions shift from confidence to uncertainty to outright fear. These weren't the original Team Rocket—the ones who had faced him years ago, who had learned firsthand what it meant to stand against the Silent Champion. These were new recruits, people who had joined the organization after its supposed disbandment.
But they had heard the stories. Everyone had heard the stories.
"Stand your ground!" A grunt with slightly fancier insignia—an executive, maybe, or at least a senior member—pushed to the front of the barricade. "He's just one trainer! There are dozens of us! We can—"
He released Charizard.
The Mega Ring on his wrist blazed with light as the Key Stone resonated with Charizardite X. The fire-type's form shifted, expanded, transformed—orange scales darkening to blue-black, flames changing from yellow to searing blue, wings spreading to their full, terrifying span.
Mega Charizard X roared, and the sound shook the windows of every building in a three-block radius.
The Rocket grunts broke.
Not a strategic withdrawal, not a tactical retreat—an outright rout. They fled in every direction, abandoning their barricades, their Pokémon, their mission. Some threw down their uniforms as they ran, as if shedding the black fabric might somehow protect them from the dragon's wrath.
The senior grunt tried to maintain order, screaming commands that no one listened to. Then Mega Charizard X's attention fixed on him, and the man's courage evaporated like morning dew.
He was gone before the dragon could take a single step.
"That..." Gold stared at the fleeing grunts with an expression of stunned disbelief. "That was amazing. You didn't even have to attack them."
Silver's response was more measured, but his eyes held a new level of respect. "Reputation. He's built a reputation so fearsome that the mere sight of his Pokémon is enough to scatter his enemies."
That's what true strength looks like, Silver thought, the words not projected but somehow palpable in his expression. Not just power, but the perception of power. The certainty that resistance is futile.
He recalled Mega Charizard X—no need to maintain the transformation when the threat had evaporated—and turned his attention to the Radio Tower itself. The grunts outside had fled, but there were surely more inside. More grunts, possibly executives, possibly something worse.
The partner Pikachu hopped from his shoulder, landing in front of the tower's entrance with determined resolve. Its cheeks sparked, ready for whatever waited within.
Gold stepped up beside him, his earlier playfulness completely gone. "I'm coming with you. These Rocket scum have been causing trouble across the whole region—I'm not letting them get away with whatever they're planning."
Silver nodded curtly. "Agreed. My father's organization has caused enough suffering. It's time to end this."
He considered refusing their help—this was dangerous, and they were young—but something in their eyes stopped him. The same determination he'd seen in Ash. The same refusal to back down, no matter the odds.
He nodded once, and together they entered the Radio Tower.
The interior was worse than he'd expected.
Rocket grunts filled the hallways, their numbers far exceeding what had been visible outside. These ones hadn't fled at the sight of Mega Charizard X—they hadn't seen it. They stood ready to defend their operation, Poké Balls in hand, expressions ranging from nervous to defiant.
"Intruders!" The cry went up immediately, echoing through the building. "Stop them!"
What followed was less a battle and more a systematic dismantling.
He moved through the tower like a force of nature, the partner Pikachu at his side. Each grunt that challenged him fell within seconds—Zippy Zap tearing through their defenses, Floaty Fall crushing resistance, Splishy Splash sweeping away anyone who tried to mount a coordinated defense.
Gold and Silver fought beside him, their own Pokémon adding to the chaos. Typhlosion's flames scorched the corridors while Feraligatr's jaws crushed any opposition. The two rivals worked together with surprising coordination, covering each other's weaknesses, creating openings that each exploited with practiced efficiency.
Floor by floor, they ascended.
The grunts grew stronger as they climbed—better trained, better equipped, with Pokémon that actually posed a challenge. But "challenge" was a relative term. Nothing they faced could match the power he had brought down from Mt. Silver.
By the time they reached the top floor, the hallways behind them were littered with unconscious grunts and fainted Pokémon. The Radio Tower's broadcast equipment loomed before them, its screens showing the message that Team Rocket had been transmitting across the region:
"CALLING ALL ROCKET MEMBERS. RETURN TO HEADQUARTERS. THE TIME HAS COME."
A message calling Giovanni back to his throne.
Standing before the equipment, arms crossed with theatrical confidence, were three figures in white uniforms. Executives—the leadership of this new Team Rocket, the ones who had orchestrated the takeover and planned whatever came next.
"Well, well," the central figure said, a woman with red hair and a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Red himself has come to stop us. I'm almost flattered."
"Ariana," Silver growled, recognition and hatred mingling in his voice. "I should have known you'd be behind this."
"Little Silver." Ariana's smile widened. "Still trying to escape your father's shadow? How pathetic. You could have been great—could have ruled this organization at Giovanni's side. Instead, you chose to be a traitor."
"I chose to be my own person. Something you'll never understand."
"Enough talk." One of the other executives—a man with blue hair and a perpetual scowl—stepped forward. "We're wasting time. Take them down and resume the broadcast."
"Patience, Archer." The third executive, a man with purple hair, seemed almost amused by the situation. "Don't you want to see what happens when our Pokémon face the legendary Champion? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
"Petrel's right," Ariana agreed. "Besides, if we defeat Red here and now, the boost to Team Rocket's reputation would be immeasurable. We wouldn't need Giovanni anymore—we could lead the organization ourselves."
She pulled out a Poké Ball, her smile sharpening. "Shall we begin?"
He didn't bother responding. He simply pointed at the three executives, and the partner Pikachu launched forward like a yellow missile.
The battle that followed was brief.
Ariana's Vileplume fell to a single Zippy Zap, the electric attack tearing through its grass typing with devastating efficiency. Archer's Houndoom lasted slightly longer—two whole attacks—before Splishy Splash washed it away. Petrel's Weezing didn't even get to use a move; Floaty Fall crushed it before Petrel could issue a command.
Gold and Silver contributed as well, their Pokémon engaging the executives' backup teams while the partner Pikachu handled the main threats. Typhlosion's Eruption scattered a group of Rattata. Feraligatr's Hydro Pump blasted a Golbat through the wall.
In less than three minutes, the three executives were out of Pokémon and out of options.
Ariana stared at her empty Poké Balls with an expression of blank disbelief. "That's... that's not possible. We're the strongest trainers in Team Rocket. We trained for years, prepared for—"
He stepped forward, and she flinched back as if struck.
"Okay, okay!" Petrel raised his hands in surrender, his earlier amusement completely gone. "We give up! Just—please don't hurt us!"
"Coward," Archer snarled, but he made no move to continue fighting.
Ariana's eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape route. Finding none, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "How? How are you so strong? You're just a trainer—just a human with Pokémon like anyone else. How can you be so far beyond us?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't answer, even if he'd wanted to.
But Silver stepped forward, his expression cold. "Because he's not like you. He doesn't see his Pokémon as tools to be used. He sees them as partners to be respected. That's why he'll always be stronger than Team Rocket could ever understand."
The words hung in the air, a condemnation that struck deeper than any attack.
Ariana's expression shifted—anger, frustration, and somewhere beneath it all, the faintest hint of doubt.
Then the window behind them shattered.
Lance descended through the broken glass on the back of his Dragonite, his crimson cape billowing dramatically in the rush of air. He landed with practiced grace, his eyes sweeping across the room—taking in the defeated executives, the unconscious grunts, the three young trainers who had already accomplished what he had come to do.
"I'm... late, apparently." The Dragon Master's voice carried a mixture of surprise and something that might have been embarrassment. "I received reports of Team Rocket activity and came as quickly as I could, but it seems the situation is already under control."
His eyes fixed on Red, and something complicated passed across his features. Recognition, respect, and beneath both—the faintest trace of the fear that Ash had described.
"Red." Lance's voice was carefully controlled. "It's been a long time."
He nodded in acknowledgment.
"I heard you had descended from Mt. Silver. I'd hoped to meet with you, discuss the current state of the region, but I didn't expect our reunion to happen quite like this."
Lance gestured at the defeated executives, who were being secured by the Officer Jennys that had followed him through the broken window. "Team Rocket has been causing trouble for months. We've been tracking their movements, trying to anticipate their plans. When we heard they'd taken the Radio Tower..."
He trailed off, looking around the room with obvious chagrin. "But you handled it. In the time it took me to fly here, you'd already dismantled their entire operation."
Gold couldn't contain himself any longer. "It was incredible! You should have seen it! Red's Pikachu just—" He made explosion sounds with his mouth, waving his arms for emphasis. "And then Mega Charizard X showed up and all the grunts just RAN AWAY!"
"I was present as well," Silver added dryly. "As was Gold. We contributed to the victory."
"Minor contributions!" Gold corrected cheerfully. "Red did most of the work!"
Lance's expression shifted as he processed this information. His eyes moved between the three young trainers before settling once again on Red.
"We should talk," he said finally. "Not here—somewhere private. There are things happening in this region that you need to know about. Threats that go beyond Team Rocket."
He raised an eyebrow, inviting elaboration.
"Not here," Lance repeated, glancing at the cameras that were surely recording everything for the news. "Will you come with me to Indigo Plateau? I can brief you properly there, show you the intelligence we've gathered."
He considered the request. Lance was the Champion of Johto—or rather, the highest-ranking member of the Elite Four, serving as the region's de facto leader. If anyone had information about threats to the region, it would be him.
And there was something in Lance's expression—a tension that suggested the situation was more serious than a few Rocket holdouts causing trouble.
He nodded once.
Lance's shoulders relaxed slightly—relief, maybe, that Red had agreed to cooperate. "Good. We can leave immediately. My Dragonite can carry—"
He held up a hand, cutting Lance off. Then he pointed at Gold and Silver, making a questioning gesture.
"The young ones?" Lance looked at the two trainers with obvious surprise. "You want them to come as well?"
Gold's eyes went wide with excitement. Silver's expression remained guarded, but there was a flicker of interest beneath the surface.
He nodded again. They had fought beside him today. They had proven themselves capable, determined, worthy of trust. Whatever Lance had to say, they deserved to hear it too.
"I... very well." Lance seemed uncertain but unwilling to argue with the Silent Champion. "We have room at the Plateau. But I warn you—what I have to share is not pleasant. The threats we face..."
He trailed off, his expression darkening.
"We can discuss it when we arrive. For now, let's go."
He released Dragonite from its ball, the orange dragon materializing beside Lance's own. The two Dragonite regarded each other with the easy familiarity of their kind, exchanging chirps that might have been greetings.
Gold was already scrambling onto Red's Dragonite without waiting for an invitation, his Typhlosion recalled to its ball. "This is so cool! I've never been to Indigo Plateau before! Is it true that the Elite Four have like, super secret training rooms? And—"
Silver sighed heavily, climbing up behind his rival with the air of someone who had long since accepted his fate. "Gold. Please. Just... try to maintain some dignity."
"Dignity is overrated!"
The partner Pikachu settled onto his shoulder, still holding its plushie, apparently content with the evening's events. He took his position on Dragonite's back, Gold and Silver crowded behind him.
Lance mounted his own Dragonite, giving the order to take off. Both dragons rose into the night sky, climbing above Goldenrod City and angling toward the east—toward Indigo Plateau and whatever revelations awaited them there.
Below, the Radio Tower stood silent, its broadcast interrupted, its Rocket occupiers defeated. The message calling for Giovanni would never be completed.
But as they flew through the darkness, he couldn't shake the feeling that Team Rocket was the least of their problems.
Lance's expression had been too worried. His warning too ominous.
Something was coming. Something worse than a criminal organization clinging to past glory.
And whatever it was, he needed to be ready for it.
In the Hall of Origin, Arceus watched the flight toward Indigo Plateau with something approaching anticipation.
The Dragon Master will share what he knows, Dialga observed. The intelligence about the gathering darkness.
Yes, Arceus agreed. It is time for my chosen one to learn the true nature of the threats he faces.
Will he be ready? Palkia asked. The knowledge may be... overwhelming.
He will adapt. He always does. Arceus's golden light pulsed with confidence. And he will not face it alone. He is already gathering allies, building relationships that will prove crucial in the battles to come.
The rival's son, Giratina noted from the shadows. Giovanni's child, fighting against his father's legacy. There is poetry in that.
There is growth, Arceus corrected. Silver is becoming more than his origins. Red is helping him see that path, simply by existing—by demonstrating what true strength looks like.
The viewing pool showed the two Dragonites flying through the night sky, their passengers silhouetted against the stars.
The next phase begins, Arceus said quietly. The phase where knowledge replaces ignorance, where preparation replaces training, where the champion learns exactly what he is training to face.
Let us hope he is equal to the challenge.
The Alpha Pokémon said nothing more. It simply watched, as it always did.
And waited for the future to unfold.