"K-k-k-rrrr... bi... sh-sh..."
Bisharp's metallic cries finally faded, leaving only the faint, heavy breathing and painful wheezing of the trembling samurai lying on the ground. His steel armor was warped and partially melted—at least as far as I could tell without closer inspection.
With sword in hand, I closed the distance with swift steps and stopped right above him.
A single dark, cold eye stared up at me from beneath the helmet. The other was covered by melted visor steel. He said nothing, merely waiting for his fate.
SHLICK!
I drove the sword full-force straight into his eye, though I didn't pierce through the outer shell of the helmet.
SQUELCH-SLURP!
With one sharp motion, I pulled the blade out. A jet of blood sprayed across my clothes, but I didn't care.
His wheezing died out completely.
Suddenly, my Ghost burst out of the forest with a screech: "Haunter Haunt Haunteeeeeeeeeer!"
Meanwhile, Houndoom calmly sniffed the scorched steel corpse at my feet.
We won, I thought with relief.
The problems, however, remained.
Before I could turn back toward the others, Haunter floated up right in front of me. Only then did I notice he was carrying a plant of some sort in his claws—a yellow-green bastard roughly the size of Houndoom.
A soft thud sounded as its body hit the grass. Haunter tossed it onto the ground with a proud grin. Only once it lay right before me could I see clearly that it was a Victreebel.
"Are all three trainers dead?" I asked immediately.
"Haunt!" He nodded, tongue sticking out, a proud spark in his eye.
"Great work, pal." I gave him a thankful smile, but turned toward the campsite right away.
While Lilly seemed completely fine on the surface—save for her tightly clenched fist—Bran was visibly trembling, his eyes darting side to side.
I quickly scanned all of our Pokémon. It looked like only mine took the brunt of it—Wartortle and Machoke. And I needed to patch them up as soon as possible.
"We won. All enemies are dead," I announced to the Pokémon, especially those that weren't mine. "I need you to bring every enemy Pokémon corpse over here into a pile, along with those three Rocket grunts."
I turned to Haunter.
"You're in charge, pal."
"Haunt!" He nodded with a smirk and immediately headed into the woods alongside Houndoom.
"Do as he said," Lilly called out to her Bulbasaur.
"Saur!" It nodded resolutely and darted off toward the Pokémon bodies, tossing them aside like trash.
"Bran, snap out of it!" I barked coldly.
He still looked like he was in shock. I stepped toward him, intending to knock some sense into him directly, but halfway there he finally snapped back to reality.
"Y-yeah... Ge-Geodude, Poliwhirl, you heard him," Bran said in a quiet voice.
Right then, one of my Pokémon burst into a blinding white light—Abra.
Her tiny frame began shifting before my eyes. The body gradually elongated and gained bulk, slender limbs stretched out, and her entire frame grew stronger. When the glow finally receded, Kadabra stood before me.
She had grown roughly a third taller and noticeably broader. Her body no longer felt as childish and fragile as before, though in my eyes she still looked like a little girl. The most striking change was her tail, which had thickened considerably and now hung behind her almost like an extra limb. Her face had changed too—appearing more mature, focused, with a gaze that was suddenly far sharper.
Master, her voice resonated inside my head, clear and strong.
"Congratulations, miss." I gave her a smile. "Please go help the others."
Kadabra nodded and stepped after Bulbasaur.
"You're bleeding, Patrik," Lilly said suddenly, pulling bandages out of her bag.
"Minor scratch," I replied with a shake of my head. "We'll deal with it later!"
Lilly immediately backed off.
"We have other problems right now," I added with a grunt, though I tried to soften my voice.
Before she could answer, my Houndoom bolted out of the forest. Even from a distance I could see his tail wagging happily, carrying a dead, purple Weezing in his jaws.
He carelessly tossed it onto the ground and stretched in front of me in what looked almost like a bow, accompanied by a satisfied bark.
"Hound!"
"Good boy." I scratched his head. "I need you to stay right here with me for now, alright?"
"Hound!" he agreed again, thumping his tail contentedly against the grass.
I sprinted over to my backpack inside the tent, grabbed bandages, Potions, and a blanket, then rushed back to the patiently waiting Houndoom.
I had no idea how severe Machoke's injuries were, but with a slashed back he had passed out terrifyingly fast. And Wartortle... he had lost a massive amount of blood. It had been spurting out of him incredibly fast and in absurd amounts.
A Pokéball slowed down time; it didn't stop it. And I was earnestly praying to every saint, god, legend, and fuckin' Arceus that my Pokémon would survive.
I quickly spread out a pack of bandages on the blanket and popped open two purple-and-white Potions.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
My hands were trembling like I was going through withdrawal... There was something fucking soul-crushing about knowing I could lose my Pokémon just like I lost Lindsay.
"Houndoom," I turned to him. "Both Machoke and Wartortle are critically injured. I'm going to try to heal and stabilize them as best I can. The problem is, blood is still spurting out of Wartortle in streams. A Potion might not be able to stop it, and if so, we're going to need your flames to cauterize the wound. Got it?"
"Hound?" His tail drooped. "Houndoom?"
"Yeah. Get your fire ready. When I give the word, let it out. A weak, controlled stream, okay?"
Houndoom barked in agreement.
Inhale, exhale.
Here goes nothing, I thought.
Lilly and Bran watched me in silence.
I pulled out the Pokéball, aimed it at the blanket, and pressed the button.
My turtle materialized in complete silence. No sound, no groaning. Just a dead silence, with the dragging of corpses in the background.
Blood was still spurting from Wartortle's wound, though the jet wasn't quite as violent as before. Without hesitation, I started spraying Potion onto the injury like crazy.
And just as I had feared: the wound began closing along the edges, but blood kept pulsing from the center, washing the Potion away.
"Houndoom, burn it!" I ordered.
He obeyed instantly, unleashing a stream of fire straight onto Wartortle's stump.
STSSSSS-KHHRRR!
The turtle twitched wildly on the blanket. He whimpered occasionally, but that was nothing compared to the sounds, stench, and smoke erupting around him.
An aggressive sizzling and popping filled the air as blood evaporated and fat crackled. Foul smoke billowed from the stump, and the smell made me gag.
It was a heavy, intense, sickeningly sweet stench of rot.
It lasted only a few seconds, but then the blood finally stopped gushing. A dark brown crust covered the stump, which I immediately drenched with Potion. It didn't look like it helped much, though.
Only then did I look Wartortle in the face. His rich dark blue-olive color was gone. He was pale, as if on his absolute last leg.
"Fuck!" I cursed out loud.
I recalled him into his Pokéball right away.
In his place, I summoned Machoke onto the blanket. He was unconscious as well, lying directly on top of his wound.
I hastily flipped him over, not being particularly gentle about it.
Across his back were two thin but long gashes. There was plenty of blood around them, but thankfully it wasn't gushing or pooling fast enough to put him at risk of bleeding out. And since both wounds were relatively close together, I didn't need Houndoom's fire.
I sprayed the rest of the Potion across his back. Once I saw the cuts close up at least somewhat, I recalled him to his Pokéball.
Inhale, exhale.
"Hound?" he whined.
"Go help the others with the bodies," I ordered, sitting down on the blanket.
Houndoom watched me for a moment longer before complying.
I splashed some water over my hands and quickly pulled off my shirt. I had a cut a few centimeters long on my shoulder—luckily, it looked superficial. A bit of blood and sturdier sting than I liked, but nothing serious.
Lucky that fucking samurai wanted to play around with me, I thought with a smirk.
I poured plenty of water over the cut, scrubbing it out with my fingers as best I could despite the sharp hiss of pain. Then I gestured to Lilly.
"Could you help me out? I'll hold the edges together, and you wrap it tight, alright?" I asked her.
Without a word, she sat down next to me on the blanket and took the bandage from my hand.
I raised my arm to give her more room to wrap, and used my other hand to pinch the edges of the cut together as tightly as possible, holding a section of the roll over the wound. Lilly immediately started pulling the elastic bandage tight—doing the best she could with one hand—while Bran stood nearby, trembling.
"I used this exact same stuff when that bloody Ekans bit me right after I left Pallet Town," I smirked.
"How'd it manage that?" Lilly asked, curious.
"Needed to take a leak and didn't notice him in the tree at all... but hey, at least I made some money," I gave a forced laugh.
Lilly just offered a faint smile and pulled the bandage as tight as she could.
A moment later Houndoom trotted back, though this time not to me, but to Bran.
"Hound Houndoom," he barked.
Bran stared at him blankly. Then he looked over at me with silent questioning in his eyes.
"He wants you to follow him," I translated.
And right then, the realization hit me.
"Poor Zubat," I muttered under my breath.
I scanned the campsite. Almost all of our Pokémon were back. Only Haunter and Lairon were still missing, while Houndoom led Bran away.
The corpses of the Rocket Pokémon were piled up in front of us. It looked like a heap of garbage, but I couldn't care less. They were the enemy.
Victreebel, Arbok, Weezing, Golbat, Fearow, and finally their frontliner—Bisharp.
I mulled over what to do with them. Throw them into the lake as Pokémon food? Use Bran's Geodude to bury them in the dirt? Burn them? Try to dissolve them with Acid Spray?
Burning felt a bit too stomach-churning after what happened with Wartortle, so I dismissed that option almost immediately. Then I ruled out Haunter's Acid Spray, too. It wasn't strong enough to melt them down.
Heavy, metallic footsteps echoing from the forest snapped me out of my thoughts.
It was my little, nearly 140-kilogram steel tank.
Slung over his back were three corpses clad in black uniforms.
Floating beside him was Haunter—tongue out, a cruel, jagged grin on his face, and a proud gleam in his eyes.
As soon as they reached us, Kadabra telekinetically lifted two of the corpses off his back and set them down on the ground before me. Bulbasaur brought down the third using his vines.
Haunter then yanked the backpacks off Lairon's ridge with an amused smirk and tossed them behind the corpses.
"Lairon!" my tank grunted in thanks.
A moment later, Bran came back. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and in his hands he held pieces of Zubat. It looked like he had been clean sliced into two halves. Either Fearow had cleaved him with a wing when it charged us, or Bisharp killed him the instant he got close.
Behind him walked Houndoom. When I looked at him, his tail gave a brief twitch. It looked like he wanted to wag it happily from side to side, but held back out of respect for Bran's grief.
A hellhound with a heart of gold, I thought with a faint smile.
Then I sobered up and looked down at the grunts' bodies.
Two completely average-looking guys with stubble and brown hair, both of average height. Beside them lay a fairly attractive woman with red hair, a heart-shaped face, and a shorter build. They looked totally ordinary. Not at all like criminals, killers, or mobsters.
Just completely everyday people you'd run into making coffee in some bureaucratic office hellhole...
All three shared only two things: a uniform with a red 'R' emblazoned across the chest, and blood trickling from their mouths.
"Did you hit all of them with Shadow Ball?" I asked Haunter.
"Haunt!" He nodded with a smirk, rubbing his claws together.
Spiritual energy must have wrecked their insides pretty badly, I thought.
I didn't want to linger, so I went straight over to the corpses and began rifling through their pockets.
One by one, under the watchful eyes of Lilly, Bran, and our Pokémon, I picked all three Rockets clean. Anything useful I found on them I tossed into a pile next to the backpacks. The empty Pokéballs I ignored entirely.
I didn't blame Lilly for not helping. With only one good hand, a sickly greenish tint to her skin, and a look like she was about to hurl any second, she would've just been in the way. And Bran was way too teary-eyed to be of any use. I doubted he could even see through the tears. I didn't hold it against him, though. I'd be crying my eyes out too if one of my Pokémon died.
Next, I went through their backpacks. Each held basic, cheap camping gear—tent, sleeping bag, cooking supplies, and other small items. I left the clothes and food rations behind, but pulled out the Potions, bandages, and Antidotes, setting them aside with the loot I planned to keep.
By the time I checked through everything, the adrenaline had completely bled off, and fatigue hit me like a ton of bricks. But I didn't have time to give in to it. I squeezed the cut on my shoulder, which jolted me awake instantly, and pushed forward through a pained hiss.
"Hound?" Houndoom whined inquiringly, but I just shook my head.
Eventually, I powered through and finished searching all the gear. Altogether, I pocketed around 23,000 PokéDollars from their wallets, along with eight Potions, four Antidotes, and five rolls of bandages from their packs.
And there was one more thing those bastards all had in common: every single one carried a magnetic keycard with an embedded chip. Identical design.
I tucked the keycards into my pocket and turned to splitting the loot.
I quickly divided the cash into roughly 7,500 PokéDollars per person, keeping the small change for myself. I took four Potions and gave two each to Lilly and Bran. I kept two Antidotes and handed them one apiece. Out of the five rolls of bandages, I took three and left one for each of them.
"I split the money evenly between us." I gestured for them to take their shares. "The Potions, Antidotes, and bandages I divided based on what felt fair given performance, since they couldn't be split evenly anyway."
"You could've kept all of it," Lilly said, shaking her head. "We didn't really help much."
"Agreed," Bran added in a quiet voice.
"You need cash and supplies... and without your Pokémon, this could've turned out a whole lot worse." I offered a faint smile. "Bulbasaur was pretty much the MVP, so buy him something delicious. And the rest were great too."
Besides, it wasn't a purely altruistic decision either. Even though we were defending ourselves, this had been a fight to the death. If someone tried to come after us later—be it legally or with brute force—they wouldn't just target one of us. We'd all three be in this together.
"Well, thank you then," Lilly smiled faintly. "Why aren't we taking the Pokéballs?"
"Every Pokéball has a serial number. This is a gang, and I bet they've got connections in high places. Practically speaking, if you caught a Pokémon with one of those and a ranger checked you, they could register the serial number. From there, it wouldn't take much to trace that Pokéball back to Trainer X, who vanished without a trace—and now Trainer Lilly is using it." I shrugged. "Just speculating... but better safe than sorry. If you want them, feel free to take them. Those bastards had more than enough."
"No, that makes sense," she said, shaking her head.
A dead silence fell over us for a moment, one that Bran couldn't stand for long.
"What now?" he asked after a short while.
"Get rid of the bodies, change clothes, pack up camp, and head straight for Vermilion," I answered calmly. "Any ideas for the corpses?" I added with a smirk.
Both of them gagged at the same time.
***
Author's note:
So, what did you guys think of the conclusion to the 3v3 battle? Haunter makes for an incredible assassin, especially deep in a dark forest in the middle of the night. The Team Rocket ambush completely failed, and they ended up getting ambushed themselves, haha.
I'm actually really happy with how this scene turned out!
What did you think of this chapter, dear readers? Did anything in particular catch your attention? Personally, I think I made that medical triage scene pretty gruesome…
***
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The shadows are shifting, and the story goes much deeper... If you can't wait for the next update, Advanced Chapters are already waiting for you.
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Upcoming Chapters – Already Written(15):
56. The Price of Survival
57. A Heavy Debt
58. Into the Dark
59. Where Dragons Feed
60. Heart of a Dragon
61. Time for a Training Arc
62. Shadows in the Thunder
63. Forging Champions
64. Avenge Me
65. High Voltage
66. Ruthless
67. One or Two?
68. Dead Men Don't Dream
69. Romeo, Juliet, and a Warehouse…
70. For the Glory of Kanto
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