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TEEN: It's Not Always Black and White

- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Forty:
Dragonspiral Tower: Zinzolin

Dragonspiral Tower loomed in front of Zinzolin like a single, smooth fang sprouting from the bed of rough water at its base. Black clouds rolled across the sky, obscuring the top. Thunder boomed. Lightning snaked through the clouds.



Zinzolin stuck a hand into the folds of his robe, rain beating at his head. He procured a rounded black stone, the color of glossy ink - the Dark Stone: a dormant form of a dragon forgotten to history. Yet, soon, the whole world would fear the name Zekrom. That fool Ghetsis thought he knew everything, thought he controlled everything. He didn't control Zinzolin, not now that he'd finished with Ghetsis and his insipid games.



Zekrom would be his and his alone.



He stomped over the bridge leading into the tower's maw, wood thudding under his boots. He gripped the Stone close to his chest. He had only been able to grab one of them in his haste, but it mattered little. Ghetsis hadn't planned to summon the dragons for a long while yet. How surprised the fool would be when Zinzolin arrived with the powers of thunder at his command, and Ghetsis had yet to summon Reshiram. Zinzolin would finally kill that blasted old fool and solidify his rule over Unova. Team Plasma might not follow him afterward, but those extras were not needed, not when he had Zekrom to attract other followers.



The rain ceased its incessant pouring as he moved inside Dragonspiral. The walls shook and creaked against the force of the howling storm. A marble staircase spiraled upward into the darkness, cracked and splintered in places where years of decay had eaten away at it. The fierce winds blowing through the holes and cracks in the walls kicked up the smell of dust. Zinzolin started up the steps, beginning the arduous journey to the top floor of the tower.



His knees cracked, and his back ached as we went, beads of sweat forming at his temples. Damn old age. No longer was he the spry young man he had once been. If only he hadn't spent his youth performing experiments on Pokemon and people and instead devoted his time to his current goal of utilizing Zekrom, maybe he would never have had to deal with that fool Ghetsis. Zinzolin had done many things as a young man that he regretted, but none of them could he go back and fix unless there was some Pokemon, legendary or otherwise, that allowed a human to transport themselves back in time. He resolved to research it at a later date, once he had declared his rule.



Years ago, at first, he had followed Ghetsis after being enticed by promises of power and wealth. It wasn't long before he realized that that fool Ghetsis hadn't the slightest intention of giving away a single bit of his power, once he obtained it. That was fine with Zinzolin. Having partners was bothersome after they ran dry of their uses, and Zinzolin had no use for Ghetsis any longer. Once the government collapsed and Ghetsis put his plan into motion, taking over the Elite Four, Zinzolin would swoop in with Zekrom, and that moment would be Ghetsis' last. Then, Team Plasma's activities having already ensured that there were no more trainers, Zinzolin would govern on a throne of iron.



He reached the top of the steps, panting. The air was humid, sticking to his skin, condensing between the parts of his robe. He growled, frustratingly wiping his forehead, and strode into the main chamber.



Columns, broken as if raked at by giant claws, lined the room in rows. Swirling patterns decorated the flooring, and the walls by cracked mosaics that would have once depicted drawings of the dragons. From a hole at the far wall, Zinzolin could see out into the heart of the storm, where rain stirred, and lightning pulsed periodically like a heartbeat.



The wind gusted inward, blowing hot air against his face. He came to the center of the room and bent, placing the Dark Stone between two columns, then stepped back and folded his arms into the sleeves of his robe. He waited, anticipation causing him to breathe in short, excited bursts. This was the moment he had waited for for a long, long time. Come to me, Zekrom. Come to your master!



And he continued to wait. Nothing occurred. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but even so, he waited. The dragon would sense his presence, sense him calling to it, and appear, reading to serve his commands.



Minutes passed. Then an hour. Still, there was nothing.



His patience spent, Zinzolin raged, kicking the Stone. It smacked against a column, sounding like marble on wood, echoing in the chamber as it clattered to the floor. Zinzolin turned his back on it, seething, jaw clenched, fingers squeezed together.



Why was it not working? He had read how the damn thing was supposed to activate, studied the ancient tombs night after night. Zekrom would appear for the Hero that summoned it. Am I not attempting to summon you, you stupid dragon? What could-



Zinzolin froze, looking down. His shadow had begun to spread along the floor, molding with the blackness that stretched from the pillars.



He spun, face splitting into a broad grin. The Dark Stone was glowing bright and radiant blue, trapped lightning churning within the orb, zapping against its restraints.



Zekrom was awakening.



Zinzolin began to run toward it. And was stopped by an immense, ear-shattering boom accompanied by a great flash of white light.



The impact thrust him back, causing him to tumble across the ground like some discarded pebble. His ears rang; his eyes burned. He cried out as his back cracked against one of the pillars, sending a wave of sharp pain thudding between his shoulder blades.



He could not see. He felt the air around him churn and gather speed, whipping at his clothes; felt sudden bullets of rain tear at his skin as if it were paper.



Scrubbing his eyes, he blinked furiously, trying to see. Needing to know.



Slowly, he pulled open his eyes.



Zekrom stood in the middle of the chamber, floating slightly above the ground. Its appearance had ripped away the tower's roof. The storm that flooded inward seemed to wreathe around the Pokemon, cloaking its black form. Beady red eyes like pricks of blood regarded Zinzolin, judged him as no more than an insect to be squashed underfoot.



Lightning flashed, illuminating the Pokemon where it floated, tail glowing a vibrant blue, black scales glistening with water.



It is perfection.



The image was the last thing Zinzolin saw before lightning crashed atop him, more potent than anything caused by nature, dissolving his skin and shattering his bones. He did not even have time to scream before he became little more than dust.



Unguided by any master, Zekrom flew off into the night. The black clouds, matching the color of its scales, veiled it from human eyes.
 
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Forty-One:
Castelia City: King

Castelia wasn't the same as when King had lived in the city, not in the slightest. The buildings themselves, of course, were mostly unchanged in their appearance: rising towers of metal lined with window after window. It was the people, the atmosphere, that had changed as if everyone had a storm cloud over their heads. As if they were all waiting with uncertain, bated breaths for what would happen next.



King ambled through a long street parallel to Castelia's harbor; a chilly breeze gusted around him. Since it was almost winter, flakes of snow drifted down from a whitewashed, dull-colored sky. The noise of the water lapping against the docks and the creaking of boats filled his ears, but what he didn't hear was the loud conversation of sailors that would typically be present this close to the harbor. Now, the place was practically deserted, with only a few hunched souls mulling about between the ships.



He stopped, shoving his hands in his pockets as he watched those few. Exactly as he'd thought, N's death had sparked a new period in the pointless revolution against Pokemon that raged throughout Unova. No one was buying Pokeballs - or anything similar, like potions - anymore, attending events meant to showcase Pokemon battles, and refusing to go to any Pokemon-themed stores or parks. People were even going so far as to kidnap trainer's Pokemon in broad daylight. The government had tried to contain it all, but they were failing, and as such, the economy was collapsing; King couldn't even walk with zoroark in the street, and so had no one to converse with as he went. Usually, he would ignore petty glares and sneers, but when people started attacking him, that was a whole different story. It was either hurt them or let them hurt him.



Turning away from the harbor, he started down a different street, this one broad and lined on either side by glass-walled shops and businesses. Homeless people, who the failing economy had already screwed over, huddled together here in alleys and corners, shivering against the cold. King was fortunate enough to still have money left over from the tournament, but who knew how long that would last? Inflation wouldn't be too far off.



What he didn't understand was how the misguided people who'd joined Team Plasma hadn't seen the collapse coming. Surely they'd been smart enough to realize that, in taking away Pokemon, one of the pillars that supported society, things would come crashing down.



He stopped walking, breathing in a deep breath of cold air through his nostrils. Before N had… died, he'd said that his father, the leader of Team Plasma, was planning something big, but he didn't know what. A collapse of the economy could have been his goal. But why? Why would anyone want to throw a whole region into turmoil?



Because people will do damn awful things if it benefits them. Look around you. Would any of these people hesitate to steal all of your money if they could? He sighed. There wasn't any use in thinking like that, and there especially wasn't anything he could do to fix the economic problem. He wasn't worried about it, either; he would survive, no matter what happened. Even if money lost all its value and people had to bargain, hunt, and farm to live.



Soon, after walking the street a small way from where he'd stopped to think, he arrived at the reason that he was even in Castelia. The gym, run by the bug-type specialist - though why any would use only bug types, he didn't know - Burgh. When King had lived in Castelia, he would pass the place every day on his way home from work and stare at it for a few minutes - at the very least - wishing he could become a trainer but never thinking he could be good enough.



Back then, golden light would spill from the gym onto the street, and trainers would enter and exit throughout the day, coming from around Unova to earn their next gym badge.



As he watched it from across the street, he hardly recognized the place as that same building. Rioters had shattered the sliding glass doors that led inward, the same with the few windows along the front. The neon sign that was one of the gym's signature features hung by a thread, barely managing to stay on at all; the bulbs that used to give it light long since destroyed. He hoped that Burgh had made it out safely, but he hadn't heard a single thing about the gym leader on the news.



To say it was a depressing sight was an understatement. What had the world come to, destroying gyms like that? He wasn't sure what to think anymore, or what he should feel about being a trainer. He knew that using Pokemon wasn't wrong - that had always been a bunch of crap - but sometimes he felt a little voice clawing at the back of his mind, telling him to abandon the life he'd chosen. Zoroark, and his other Pokemon, too, when zoroark translated what they said - especially haxorus - confirmed for him that they wanted nothing more than to be his Pokemon. Still, he couldn't help but consider what the point was. The gyms were all shutting down: that meant no gym challenge. He'd begun thinking of the future, at times, and what his plans would be if not a single person would talk to him because he chose to keep Pokemon at his side.



There was one thing he had to do first, though, before he sat himself down and thought hard on a decision. There was one gym leader who would never abandon his Pokemon, not even if some god came from the heavens and proclaimed being a trainer was wrong and immoral. On top of that, if people tried to attack his gym… well, King wasn't sure what would happen then. It doesn't matter. I can win against him now. No doubt-



"King? No way is that you. No way."



He blinked, turning toward the voice that addressed him. It was a middle-aged woman, snowflakes stuck in her brown hair, with narrow, rat-like features. She was holding a plastic bag full to the brim with groceries.



It clicked as soon as he looked at her - his old landlord.



"Stephanie?"



Her eyes narrowed. "It is you. I'd recognize that flippant voice anywhere. You have some nerve coming back to the city after what you pulled."



He grunted, turning fully towards her. "I'm sure you found someone else to live there in-"



"-in your place, yes," she snapped. "But it didn't help that we had to move your things out on our own after you vanished!"



"I'm sorry, Stephanie," he said, genuinely meaning it. "I had some things going on then, but, you know, I suppose I should thank you for not getting the authorities and whatnot involved. Here: some cash to pay you back." He reached around to dig in the pack slung over his shoulders, where he was currently keeping his Pokeballs. He supposed it had been long enough since the Vertress Tournament that no one recognized his looks, either.



Stephanie stopped him with a sigh and a curt gesture. "No. There's no need. Your money won't be worth much soon, anyway. Everything is coming down around us."



He glanced at the gym, then back at her, nodding and returning his hands to his pockets. "You could say that again. How're you faring these days?"



"No better than anyone else," she said, shaking her head. "Most of my tenants lost their jobs and haven't been able to pay rent. You know what that means for me, Parkman."



"Hm. You sure you don't want-"



"That'll be the day, Parkman, when I start taking handouts from you."



He shrugged. "Suit yourself."



A car sped past them, engine humming. It made him realize the lack of them on the road. Yet another thing that had changed. He ran a hand through his hair and brushed the accumulating snow off his shoulders.



"I should get going," Stephanie said. "I'm surprised to say this, but… it was nice talking to you again."



He smirked despite himself. "You take care of yourself, Stephanie. Don't let the world bog you down too much."



Shaking her head, she moved around and past him, mumbling something about how that would be damn near impossible to do. He watched her retreating form for a few minutes, then turned back to studying the broken gym.



There was nothing left for him in Castelia. Humilau City was his next destination. He wasn't nervous about confronting his father. Everything would be fine.



He sighed. Well. Might as well get started on the journey.
 
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Forty-Two:
Pokemon League: Concordia

Concordia bounded up the grand set of marble stairs that led to the Elite Four building, located at the very pinnacle of the mountain. As high up as they were, it was difficult not to shiver against the chilly air and bouts of cold wind.



She clutched the Light Stone to her chest. After fleeing the castle, she and Anthea had had to travel through a narrow expanse of tunnels known as Victory Road. A local had told them that it was the last trial trainers had to go through, filled with other trainers and powerful Pokemon, but, when Anthea and Concordia passed through, it'd been strangely empty of both.



As much as she didn't want to admit it, Concordia knew it was because of Ghetsis and Team Plasma. After he had killed-



She blinked. Ahead of her, the spires of the Elite Four building rose into view. Anthea was already almost to the top of the stairs; she was much more athletic than Concordia, that had been so since they were little girls. Concordia was laboring to breathe normally, but the thought of taking a break didn't cross her mind. We have to get the Light Stone to them. We have to!



Unconsciously, however, she staggered to a standstill, eyes widening and chest heaving, once she could see enough of the building. It was amazing.



The peaks of the twisting, beige-colored spires along the domed roof poked at the sky veiled in a sheet of dark blue. Intricately designed columns between flowing arches of stone lined the front entrance. The castle where she'd lived all of her life was brilliant, yes, but this was new: something she'd never seen before. She loved the sight of it, but at the same time, it did make her think of home, and how she might never get to return there. Her gaze flickered away.



"What are you doing?" Anthea called from the top of the steps, hands on her hips. "Stop staring and get up here!"



Concordia started, flushing. She meant to pass the last few steps quickly, but in her haste, the Light Stone slipped from her grasp.



She cried out as it clattered down the stairs.



"Oh, no!" She said, holding her dress as she scrambled after it. "I'm so sorry, Anthea, I-"



But her sister was already sprinting down the steps faster than Concordia could have ever hoped to. Before long, she reached the Light Stone and snatched it in one hand. She glared at Concordia from below.



Concordia looked away guilty, feeling the heat gather in her cheeks. "Anthea…"



"This is why I should know better than to let you hold things," Anthea said, passing by her with the Light Stone held firm, lines of anger creasing her expression. "You clumsy oaf."



I didn't mean it. Why do things have to happen? She followed her sister the rest of the way to the building, walking across a long, paved walkway.



Before they could get very close, a man and a woman wearing uniforms that were similar to what Concordia knew police officers wore, based on the pictures she'd seen of them, approached. Anthea moved forward to address them, while Concordia stayed a little way behind so that her sister could converse without having to worry if Concordia would mess her up.



"Don't take another step further," said the woman. Concordia realized that their postures were quite hostile, with shoulders tense and hands on their belts. "We've already told your kind what will happen to any further protesters."



Anthea frowned. "Do we look like protesters?"



The two guards exchanged glances. "Well, no," the man said, "but that doesn't mean anything. Why else would you have come? That's the only reason anyone shows up here these days. To protest."



"Not us," Anthea insisted. She held up the Light Stone; sunlight catching on its pearl-like surface. "Do you have any idea what this is?"



"Never seen it," the woman shrugged, looking to her partner, whose face hadn't changed in its blandness.



Anthea inhaled a deep breath. "This is the Light Stone."



"The what?" Asked the female guard.



"The Light Stone. The dormant form of the dragon Reshiram."



Both of the guards balked, their surprise finally clear to see. Their father had told Concordia and Anthea all about the fairy tales when they were little, but it was still hard to imagine that a tiny item contained something so very powerful.



The male guard leaned forward, squinting his eyes at the Stone. "That thing? It can't be; you're pulling my leg."



"I am not," Anthea growled. "We're here to give it to the Champion for safekeeping."



"Could be some kind of bomb," the woman guard noted. "I don't trust it."



"Me neither," said the man, standing straight.



Anthea grunted. "You seem awfully calm if you think this is a weapon."



Concordia watched in silence as the three of them continued to bicker. The guards remained tense; it seemed to her that maybe recent protests made them more anxious than usual, which she understood. She wasn't positive about the full extent of the hatred toward trainers and their like, but she knew it mustn't be good, or easy, for the guards, who only wished to do their jobs and support themselves and their families, if they had them. Anthea didn't seem to see that. She was getting angrier as the seconds passed, but Concordia understood her, too. The Elite Four and the Champion could be their only hope if most of the trainers no longer used Pokemon.



She shifted, grabbing at her dress, feeling the cloth crumple between her fingers. This was taking too long. There was no doubt that their father knew about their betrayal. What if he had sent people to find them? To capture them?



She glanced over her shoulder. Jagged mountains like serrated teeth rose in the distance, clouds piling together over them. Something felt wrong. They needed to hurry.



She looked back at Anthea, opening her mouth, then closing it again. She thought she had an idea for how to convince the guards… but what would Anthea say when she interfered? She loved to take charge and do things herself, and wouldn't take kindly to Concordia stepping in.



They had no time. She didn't know how she knew, but something was very wrong. Something was coming.



She started forward, still holding the side of her dress tight. Anthea stopped talking in her raised voice and glanced at Concordia, while the two guards almost seemed to notice her for the first time.



She stepped beside her sister, avoiding her gaze and smiling in what she hoped was a friendly way. "Hello," she said. "My name is Concordia."



Anthea rolled her eyes. The male guard crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, while the female guard looked at her speculatively.



"I think I understand why you're both a little apprehensive about letting us in," she said. "Why don't you follow us inside and watch as we talk to the Champion, to, um, make sure that we don't have any other intentions? And if the Champion thinks it's too dangerous, then we can leave, but, please, we at least want to see what he says. Maybe he'll recognize the stone?"



The three of them stared at her. She shifted under their gaze. Oh no, what have I done? I've only made myself look stupid. I should have left everything to Anthea. She knows-



"Hm. I suppose that we can allow that," the male guard said, looking to his partner. "What do you think?"



The female guard nodded, sighing. "I'm finding it hard to picture this one with any sort of evil intention. Yeah, alright. We'll let you in, but we'll be keeping a close eye on you."



They turned, motioning for her and Anthea to follow them into the building.



Concordia smiled weakly at her sister, loosening the grip she held on her dress, but Anthea scowled, stomping after the guards. Concordia's smile faded. She should have known that Anthea wouldn't like to be interrupted.



She couldn't worry about that now. There wasn't any time.



The three of them were already almost to the columns that marked the entrance. Concordia flushed, lifting her dress to keep it from tripping her as she ran after them.



Past the swirling white pillars was a spacious room with a tiled, mosaiced floor, and a flat roof that blocked the sun overhead. Grey darkness seeped from the corners, bathing the room. Their footsteps echoed as they walked toward a set of double doors made of dark wood. The only light came from a lamp on either side of the door, casting a sphere of golden light in front of it that pushed away the shadows. The guards entered the light, the door creaking as they pushed it open. They ushered Concordia and Anthea through. Concordia followed close at her sister's side.



Concordia stepped gingerly on a long, red carpet like the tongue of a beast, hoping that she wouldn't track any mud or dirt on it. The carpet trailed to a white stone dais, almost like the one they had at home, where a man with fiery red hair sat. Sunlight bathed over him from a circle of stained glass windows above him. There was a door in each of the corners of the room.



"Oh!" The man called, standing. "What have we here?"



The guards closed the door behind them, then led them forward. That must be the Champion. She swallowed hard. He didn't look very intimidating - but she was in the presence of Unova's strongest trainer. How many battles had he fought? How many times had he won?



The two guards stopped at the foot of the dais, and Anthea and Concordia a small way behind them. Anthea glanced sideways at her.



"Don't pull another trick like the one you did back there," she said. "Let me do the talking."



Concordia responded with a series of quick nods. "Right. Okay."



The female guard flicked a thumb over her shoulder. "These two are claiming to have possession of a… Light Stone, they called it. They're not protesters, or so they claim. Could be a bomb, Alder. I'd be careful."



The Champion's expression darkened, his smile fading. "The Light Stone…" He came down the steps and gently pushed his way past the guards, coming to stand in front of Anthea and Concordia. She could smell the faint scent of cologne coming off of him as he moved toward Anthea, jaw set, and eyebrows raised.



"We came here to give this to you," Anthea said, holding the Stone in front of her. "Someone needs to keep it safe."



"So, it's not a bomb?" Asked the male guard.



The Champion chuckled, shaking his head. He seemed to regard the Stone with awe, and he held his hands a few inches away as if afraid to touch it. "No, this is far from anything like that. What you see, my friends is the dormant form of Reshiram: the White Dragon."



"They were telling the truth, then."



"I heard legends," the Champion said, "but never did I think that I would see it for myself." He looked up. "Where could you have possibly found it?"



Anthea shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Take it: you're one of the only ones who can keep it safe."



The Champion nodded. "I see. Many of the gym leaders have gone into hiding; many of the trainers have abandoned their Pokemon. We might be the only option, as you say."



"Yes. So take it."



"Yes… alright," he said.



He reached to take it.



The door burst open, flying from its hinges. The side that faced the outside room was charred; tongues of flame crawled along the surface. Smoke piled in through the open entrance, and four figures cloaked in robes moved inward.



The Champion's hand retracted from the Light Stone. Concordia's throat tightened as if squeezed by an invisible hand. The Sages. They've come for us.



"Who are you?" The Champion demanded. "What is the meaning of this?"



"We have come, dear Alder," said one of the Sages. She recognized the voice as Roods. "To usurp your throne. Unova is to have a new Champion."



They each simultaneously put a hand into their robes. A moment later, four Pokemon formed a line in front of them.



The Champion laid a hand on her shoulder and one on Anthea's. "You must leave. Take the Light Stone and go! Ah, Sylvia!"



A woman was running toward them. "Alder? What the hell is going on?"



"Look at this!" One of the Sages shouted. Concordia turned. Bronius. "We've found the missing sisters and the Light Stone. Aren't we lucky."



"You know these men?" The Champion questioned, then shook his head. "Bah. It doesn't matter. Sylvia; take them and go! I don't know who these people are, but the Light Stone must not fall into the wrong hands!"



Sylvia nodded and pulled an Ultraball from her waist. A salamence appeared in a flash of white light, and Sylvia hooped onto its back, waving for them to do the same. "Come! Let's get out of here!"



"But… the Cham-"



"Alder will be fine! Come on!"



"Do not let them escape!" Rood shouted, attacking with his scolipede. The Champion's conkeldurr appeared to block it.



"Go!" The Champion shouted. "Fly! Those other three and I will handle this!"



Concordia found herself too stunned to move. The Sages had come for them. Anthea hopped onto salamence and yanked her on after, grumbling. Concordia held close to her sister, hands shaking. Anthea squeezed one of them comfortingly.



They began to lift in the air as salamence flapped its wings, stirring the air around them. The Pokemon of the three other Sages were charging.



The wind blew against her face as they took to the air, bolting toward the section of glass ceiling. Salamence roared, and a pillar of fire crashed into the glass, shattering it. Sunlight played across the shards they flew past, out of the building, into the sky.



"Where are you taking us? Anthea said, shouting to be heard over the wind howling in their ears. "Who are you?"



"I'm one of the Elite Four!" Sylvia shouted, flying them in the opposite direction of the sun. "I'm taking you to Humilau: the nearest city. I'll need to go back to help Alder, but I'll come back for you! Keep that Stone safe until I've returned!"



Concordia squeezed her eyes shut, hair fluttering behind her. The Champion was risking his life for them. Where was Ghetsis? What did they mean 'a new Champion'?



What was he planning?
 
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Forty-Three:
Humilau City: Concordia

Salamence dove downward, kicking up sand as he skidded to a stop on Humilau's beach. Concordia breathed a long sigh of relief, the queasiness in her stomach settling as they arrived on solid ground. She let go of Anthea, rubbing her hands together. They were only shaking a little now.



Anthea shook her head as if to clear it, sliding off of salamence's back, and Concordia did the same. They both looked at Sylvia.



"I'll come back to check on you guys," she said, lifting in the air as salamence began to flap his wings. "Keep the Light Stone safe!"



Concordia grimaced, coughing as a wave of sand washed over her when salamence took again to the air. She realized, watching the Pokemon's retreating form, that it was snowing, a haze of flakes drifting from a white sky. A thin layer covered the beach and the roofs of the nearby wooden homes, placed in rows along vast stretches of dock. Concordia blew on her hands, shivering. She looked at Anthea.



"What… do we do now?" She asked. "What if Team Plasma comes after us?"



Anthea sighed, holding out the Light Stone. "Hold this for a second."



Concordia obliged. Despite how cold it was, the Light Stone felt warm against her palms, and so she held it close. Anthea began to scrub her hands through her hair, flattening the parts that were sticking up. The wind had been very potent while they were flying, but, while they were in the air, Anthea hadn't seemed to mind it at all. Concordia, however, had almost felt like she was going to faint: she and heights had never gotten along very well.



"Aren't you going to fix your hair?" Anthea said, nodding toward her.



Concordia cocked her head. "What's wrong with it?"



Her sister looked at her through half-lidded eyes. Concordia quickly used the hand that wasn't holding the Light Stone to adjust the unruly parts that'd escaped from her braid. When they were both finished, Anthea gestured for the Stone, and Concordia placed it into her hand. She supposed that after she'd dropped it, Anthea wasn't going to trust her with the responsibility any longer. Her chest felt heavy with shame when she thought of that.



"So, um," Concordia started, "you didn't answer my question, Anthea."



Anthea sighed again. She was doing that more often than she usually did. "I don't know what we're going to do with it until that Sylvia gets back." She paused, considering. "Well, actually, there's a gym here. We should at least check and see if, whoever the gym leader is, is here or not. We can give it to them if they are."



Concordia nodded. "Okay. Let's do that." As she expected, Anthea always knew the best thing for them to do. Her sister was amazing.



Anthea began to walk toward a set of wooden stairs led away from the beach and into the small, quaint town.



Concordia turned to regard the ocean, its foamy waves lapping against the shore. The smell of salt filled her nose. Shells of all different colors dotted the sand, and she thought she could make out the silhouettes of Pokemon as they swam through the turquoise water. It was the first time she had ever been so close to the ocean. The water was probably freezing, but she wanted to relax and swim in it. There was a whole world out there that she had never seen, full of Pokemon and color.



But there wasn't any time for that kind of leisure. She and her sister had a task to do, and with Team Plasma more than likely on their tails, she thought she might never get that kind of free time again. It was funny, because, when they had lived in the castle, all she'd had was free time. She had taken it for granted back then.



She turned and ran after Anthea, kicking up sand as she went. Together, they progressed up the steps and onto the docks. Concordia spotted the gym at the other end of the town, much larger than almost any other building, covered in a peaked thatch roof dotted with bits of snow. Anthea was already heading in that direction, feet tapping on the wood beneath them, and Concordia followed close at her heels.



Even though buildings of all different kinds lined either side of them, shops, and homes, the walkway toward the gym was oddly empty. The lights inside the houses were on, though, and Concordia could see figures moving inside when they passed the windows. It was probably in part because of the snow - flakes were already sticking to her hair - but she guessed that recent events involving Team Plasma made people want to keep to themselves. No boats were floating out in the ocean, either: sailors had docked most of them on a pier that stretched farther out than where the homes were.



Soon, they stood in front of the gym, staring at its front face dotted with many broad windows. Inside, Concordia could see the battlefield where trainers would fight the gym leader for the badge, but not much else.



"Are you sure we should go inside?" She asked, peering inward. "It doesn't look like anyone is in there."



"There's probably a back room," Anthea said. "It looks well-kept enough. The gym leader's probably-"



"What do you ladies think ya' doing, ogling my gym like that? No way in hell the pair of ya' are trainers."



Concordia spun to look behind her, toward where the voice had come from. Anthea did the same.



The man who'd addressed them was another person with red hair, his the color of a deep sunset. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and was very tall, with a hard face and cold eyes. Concordia couldn't accurately pinpoint why, but she immediately found herself not liking him. She didn't want to judge people before she got to know them, but... his eyes. There was something about them.



"This is your gym?" Anthea asked, apparently unperturbed by him.



"Isn't that what I just said, girl?" The man said. "Now, answer my question. You protesters?"



"Let's do this again," Anthea muttered, holding out the Light Stone. "We are not protesters. Do you recognize-"



But the gym leader was already jogging forward. He came close to Anthea, leaning forward and examining the Light Stone. There was a hungry look in those eyes of his. "Well, look what we have here! It's Reshiram itself!"



Anthea pulled away from him slightly, enough for Concordia to notice. We can't give it to this man. There's something off about him.



"Ya' came here to give that to me, I'm guessing," the man said. "Well, hand ‘er over. I assure you, ladies, I'll make good use of that there."



"Make good use of it?" Anthea backed away more. "What are you going to do with it?"



The man reached to grab it. Anthea yanked it away.



"No," she said. "I've changed my mind."



"No?" The man harrumphed. "What do ya' mean, no? That's what you're damn here for, isn't it? You were holding out that thing like you were giving me a damn birthday present!"



"I changed my mind," Anthe repeated, standing straight. "We're leaving." She brushed past the gym leader, holding the Light Stone tight against her chest. He watched her go with narrowed eyes.



Concordia scrambled after, looking anywhere but at him. "Anthea! Wait for me!"



But she didn't. Only when they turned a corner and were out of sight did she turn and face Concordia.



"He was going to use the Stone for his own benefit," she said, smacking a fist into the wooden building they stood next to. "We can't give it to him, either! Isn't there anyone who can take this stupid thing out of our hands?"



"Please don't worry, Anthea. You made the right choice," Concordia said. "There was… something about him. Sylvia will be back soon, anyway." She peeked around the corner. The gym leader was no longer standing in front of the gym, but she couldn't see where he might've gone.



"Well, whatever," Anthea sighed. "Come on, and we'll wait for her. Maybe she'll turn out to be a half-decent person."



Concordia pulled away from the wall, glancing over her shoulder at Anthea, who was already walking away. "R-right…"
 
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Forty-Four:
Humilau City: King

King paced back and forth along the docks, wiping his hands on his pants, occasionally running them through his hair. After about damn near a thousand days of traveling, he'd finally arrived in Humilau City: his childhood home before his father had kicked him out of the house. King spent the entirety of the journey to Humilau trying to convince himself that he was ready to face his father, that there was less than nothing to be worried about.



All that preparation had been for nothing the second he'd stepped into the city.



He groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands as he plopped on the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the water. His breath turned to puffs of fog in front of him. This isn't like me. I don't get this nervous.



If you ever set foot in my gym, I swear I will make sure ya' wished ya' never became a trainer. His father's words echoed in his mind. What if King challenged that bastard and lost? It would mean that everything he'd ever said, about how King was worthless, about he'd never be good enough, were true. King had tactical strategy in battle; he had a bond with his Pokemon: something he'd been missing for the longest time. If he couldn't beat the bastard now, then he'd never be able to.



Get six Pokemon first, he thought. You still only have four. Yes. That was true. He would come back at a later time when he trained his Pokemon and captured two others.



He sighed, shaking his head. No, he couldn't do that. It was now or never. The economy of Unova, maybe even society itself, was collapsing. Who knew how long he'd even be able to remain a trainer? How long until protesters came to Humilau and made his father step down as gym leader?



Not very long, King guessed. If the bastard was even still around.



His gaze turned to the horizon. Flakes spun from the sky, melting into the clear waters, gathering on King's lap, head, and shoulders. The snow brought back memories of the winter he'd spent in Humilau as a kid. It never snowed much on this part of the cast - never enough to build a snowman or anything - but he'd spent a good amount of days running around with his mother, trying to catch the flakes in his mouth.



The waves bubbling against the pillars supporting the dock, as well, reminded him of his mother as did the salty smells and the grainy wood of the small houses, so different from the towering building of the city. She had loved all of it.



Thinking of those memories - and not the ones with his father - calmed him. The feeling of nervousness in his chest simmered down to an insignificant thing. His mother had at least been kind to him. That was the last person he'd ever truly been close with, he realized. He wasn't positive how he felt about that.



He pushed himself to a stand. Now or never. It's time to show that old bastard what I can finally do.



Turning, he started to walk along the docks toward the gym at the other end of town, jaw set with determination. As long as protesters hadn't come and driven the bastard out, his father would be inside the gym. King wondered if gym leaders even got paid by the government anymore, considering the financial situation of Unova. Any gym leader still in business would necessarily be non-profit, he guessed.



He stepped in front of the gym, shaking. Whether it was because of the cold or another side effect of his nerves, he didn't know. He could see his reflection in the gym's windows and shook the snow out of his hair. No one seemed to be in there: challenger or gym leader. Not that King had expected there to be challengers, but since that was true, his father was probably in the back room.



The sliding glass doors parted for him as he moved forward. Well. Here goes noth-



A scream sounded through the town.



King froze, whipping around to look for its source. There was nothing he could see, but someone didn't scream like that unless they were in serious trouble. He bolted, momentarily forgetting the gym behind him, arms pumping and feet slapping against the dock. He turned a corner toward the shopping district, then stumbled, barely catching himself from falling as he pulled to a stop. His eyes went wide.



His father was fighting with two young women. He had hold of one of them, trying to yank something King couldn't see from her hands. The other was desperately attempting to pry his hands off of her companion.



"What in the hell is going on?" King shouted.



His father's arms went limp, releasing their grip on the item. The girl he was fighting with took the opportunity to scramble away, and she huddled together with the other girl, breathing heavily. King could make out what she was holding then, a large, pearl-like orb.



His father turned slowly. He looked King up and down with those same cold, lifeless eyes.



"Well, fuckin' well," the bastard said. "Look who it is. My degenerate of a son."



King straightened, his palms growing sweaty. He wouldn't back down. He wouldn't. "Wow, you've stooped lower than I ever thought possible. Assaulting women in broad daylight? Low, even for you."



"You mind ya' own goddamn business, boy," the bastard snapped. "Didn't I tell ya' what would happen if ya' ever set foot in this city again?"



King clenched his jaw.



"Well?" His father exploded. "Didn't I?"



Even after all the time he'd spent away from the bastard, King still fought the urge to cringe against that voice. Somehow he managed to keep a neutral expression, or so he hoped. "I know what you said. I'm here anyway. Good thing, too, else-"



"Oho! You didn't come to challenge me, did ya'? Did ya'?"



"That's exactly why I'm here, you old bastard."



His father cackled, bringing a hand to his waist. King realized that he had six Ultraballs strapped to his best. "I'm certainly glad I ran and grabbed these here, Pokemon, after all."



King reached back and pulled at the zipper on his pack. Immediately, a beam of white light shot from it, combining in front of King on the dock. Zoroark appeared a split second later.



I'm here, King. You can rely on me.



King smirked. "Miss ya', old buddy. Let's do this."



His father released a carracosta. The two girls backed up further.



A salamence crashed onto the dock between King and his father, a woman on the Pokemon's back. Wood splintered, chips scattering into the air. King staggered from the impact.



"Sylvia!" One of the girls, the one with the blond hair, said.



The woman slid off of salamence. "You two put away your Pokemon. There's no time for a battle."



She returned salamence to his Pokeball. King balked at the strange woman, and his father growled in annoyance.



"Sylvia," the bastard said. "Get out of the damn way."



"It's nice to see you, too," the woman - Sylvia - said, placing her hands on her hips. "Now. Stop acting like a child and put that Pokemon away. Ah, girls. I see you've kept the Light Stone safe as I asked. Good."



Who is this woman? Zoroark asked.



King shook his head, stepping beside him. "No idea. I'm not going to return you just yet: she seems to be directing her attention more at the old bastard."



"You're finally here," the pink-haired girl said. "Take this stupid Light Stone. We don't want it anymore."



Sylvia raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"



The pink-haired girl glared at King's father. "It's too dangerous to have anymore."



"Don't tell me he tried to - oh, for crying out loud, put that carracosta away!"



His father grumbled but obliged, leaving King staring in surprise. The bastard had never listened to anyone. Who was this woman?



"You were trying to take the Light Stone, weren't you?" She asked.



"You bet your damn pants I was," the bastard snapped. "If it weren't for that boy over there, Reshiram would be mine already."



What the? Reshiram?



Sylvia turned to regard King, then just as quickly looked back at his father. "So you wanted Reshiram's power for yourself. Jeez, I should have known. But I can excuse both that and your nasty attitude if you agree to help me. Alder is…" She sighed. "Alder is dead. The Elite Four has been taken over by a group of extremely powerful trainers."



"They killed Alder?" The blond girl whispered, so quiet King could barely hear.



"Yes, they did," Sylvia nodded.



"Alright," his father said. "Give me the Light Stone, and you'll get all the help ya' need."



The pink-haired girl opened her mouth to say something, but Sylvia shook her head. "Not going to happen."



"Then the three of you fuckers can kiss my ass!" His father pushed past Sylvia, grumbling. He stopped when he walked next to King. "You got lucky this time, boy. You weren't ready. You'll never be."



He disappeared around the corner. King glared at his back.



Sylvia let out a long breath of air. "I hate that guy. He's your father, right?"



"Unfortunately."



"You two look alike," she said, rubbing her forehead. "I hope you don't act alike, too."



King shook his head. "No. We don't. I'd appreciate an explanation about everything that's going on here, though. What is this about the Elite Four falling?"



Sylvia nodded. "Yeah. Alright. Is there any place where we might be able to talk in private?"



"Not sure," King admitted. "Beach is probably the only one I can think of."



"Right. That's where we'll be going then. You two girls, you come as well. This is important. Extremely so.
 
- An adaptation of the storyline in Pokemon Black and White, with more realism and maturity. Witness the rise of Team Plasma as it could have been, with Ghetsis at its head and N as the puppet dancing to his strings. King, an office worker, must contend with the ideals of Team Plasma and the weight of his past if he is to ever achieve his dreams of being a great trainer.-

Chapter Forty-Five:
Humilau City: King

Sylvia took her time debriefing King on everything that'd occurred within the Elite Four. He listened with his arms crossed, tapping his foot on the sand they stood on while they talked. Breezes periodically washed over them from the direction of the ocean to their left. Above, a few pidove squawked as the circled in the air.



"So," King said when Sylvia finally finished. Alder was dead, she'd told, and as far as she knew, only one other member of the Elite Four escaped. She was one herself, which explained why the old bastard had decided to listen to her. The other two Elite Four shared Alder's fate. "Let me get this whole situation straight. Someone has taken over the Elite Four… and that Light Stone, or whatever it's called, is the legendary Pokemon Reshiram."



Sylvia nodded. "Yes. That sums it up."



King whistled, eying the two girls who stood together to form a circle with King and Sylvia. He'd since returned zoroark to his Pokeball. How had the two of them come across something as powerful as a dormant Legendary?



The blond-haired girl leaned over and whispered something in her companion's ear. The pink-haired girl sighed but eventually nodded, and the blond-haired girl turned to face the group, hands clasped before herself.



"Um, I'm sorry that we haven't done this already," she said, "but I think we should formally introduce ourselves." She glanced at her pink-haired companion, who began to speak.



"My name is Anthea. This is my sister, Concordia," she gestured to her with the hand that wasn't holding the Light Stone. "You're probably wondering who exactly we are. Well, I'll tell you one thing: those men who attacked the Elite Four are the same ones that have been behind this whole economic collapse of Unova. They're the leaders of Team Plasma, and, trust me, they're only out for power. They could care less about Pokemon."



King raised an eyebrow. So it was true. N's father - the real leader of Team Plasma - had been planning something big, as N had thought.



"And how do you know this?" Sylvia asked, shifting and placing her hands on her hips.



Anthea took a deep breath. "Because those men, while, yes, they are the leaders of Team Plasma, they, in turn, follow someone else. Our father. He's the one they proclaimed as Champion."



One of the pidoves squawked, inciting more of its brethren to do the same. The wind brushed over the sand and snow, stirring both into the air.



King froze. If the leader of Team Plasma is their father…



"… N was your brother."



Anthea nodded. "Our father shot N. He built N up as the face of Team Plasma, knowing that the rebellion would truly spark when Ghetsis killed him. He dressed as a police officer, and so people thought that the police had had enough of N and deemed him too big a threat. After Ghetsis did that, we stole the Light Stone and fled."



King shook his head in disbelief. Concordia had gone rigid, all the color draining from her face, leaving her as pale as the snow. She stared into the distance at nothing. Anthea noticed this and held her sister close. The grief was still an open wound for them; it seemed.



"When was the last time you saw N?" King asked. Sylvia was frowning sympathetically at the two sisters.



Anthea shook her head. "Not for a long time, not since he stopped at the castle a few months ago to have a meeting with the Sages. Why?"



"I saw him that day when your father killed him. I'd met him before, too, at-"



"Stop," Anthea interrupted. "Can't you see that Concordia doesn't want to hear any more?"



King frowned. Wasn't she just talking about it?



"If you have the Light Stone," Sylvia said, glaring at King, then turning back to Anthea and Concordia, "then where is the Dark Stone?"



"We… we couldn't find it," Concordia said, almost as if she were eager to contribute to the new change in topic. Some of the color returned to her face, and she and Anthea let go of one another. "What I mean to say is that our - Ghetsis - did take both of the Stones, but when Anthea and I resolved to flee, the Dark Stone wasn't there."



"So this Ghetsis might already have Zekrom under his control," Sylvia said. "Imagine what someone could do with that sort of power, especially when we haven't awakened Reshiram yet. I don't even know how we would go about doing that."



Her gaze shifted between the three of them. "Well, whatever the case, we can't let someone like that remain Champion. We have to fight back, and we're going to need all the help we can get. We'll have to find Robin: the other Elite Four member that escaped. Anthea, Concordia, you'll be coming with me, no doubt Team Plasma is after you. I'll keep you safe until I can train you as trainers while we track down Robin. I left all of my things at the Pokemon League, so I have no way even to contact the fool. King-"



"What a second," Anthea interrupted. "Train us as trainers? What do you mean?"



Sylvia frowned as if the answer were perfectly obvious, which it was. "You're going to need to be able to defend yourselves when I'm not around. Plus, you two are a part of a small minority left in Unova that doesn't think trainers are criminals. You don't think that, do you?"



"Well, no, but-"



"Good. That's settled then." Sylvia turned to King. "You said your name was King, right? Are you with us? I could use another trainer."



King opened his mouth, then closed it again, hesitating. Did he want to get involved? It would be dangerous that much was certain. But Ghetsis had created a place where people were beginning to fear if they could even put food on their tables. Banks were starting to close. Inflation was on the rise. All because of one man.



Plus, King wanted to remain a trainer. He couldn't do that with Ghetsis and Team Plasma reigning.



"Alright. I'm in."



Sylvia nodded.



"There's just something I've got to do first," King said. He looked into the distance. From where he stood, he could make out the top of the gym's peaked roof, where it rose above all the other buildings.



"Challenging your father?"



"I have to."



She inclined her head to the side, considering. "I think we'll tag along for that. It'll be a good learning experience for you, girls. Have you ever watched a Pokemon battle?"



They both shook their heads.



King swallowed hard, gripping zoroark's Pokeball at his waist. It's time to see if what he's been saying my whole life is true. Now or never.



He stalked forward toward the gym.
 
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