Chapter 631: Gengar Does it AGAIN!
~Third POV~
[Unova Region, Nighttime, Nacrene City – Museum (Gym)]
The night air of Nacrene City carried the cool, crisp scent of old paper, damp stone, and the distant, earthy undertones of Pinwheel Forest. Under the pale glow of antique streetlamps that lined the cobblestone pathways, the majestic Nacrene Museum stood like a silent sentinel of history.
Its towering brick facade and grand pillars absorbed the quiet shadows of the Unova night, save for the warm amber light spilling from the main entrance. Inside the cavernous lobby, the echoes of a hard-fought battle still seemed to linger. Azure rolled his shoulders as he stepped off the descending staircase.
Perched comfortably on his right shoulder, a bright-eyed Pikachu let out a soft, sleepy "Pika…", while an Eevee rested like a fluffy crown atop Azure's head, its tail twitching lazily. Tucked safely inside the inner pocket of Azure's jacket, Pichu (Mew) let out a muffled, contented yawn.
Beside Azure, Black walked with his usual high-octane energy, his fists clenched and his eyes burning with the fierce, unyielding ambition of someone who lived and breathed the Unova Pokémon League. Just behind them, Gym Leader Lenora descended the stairs with a heavy, confident stride, her husband Hawes waiting by the front doors with a courteous nod.
Hawes announced, though a welcoming smile softened his words as he gestured to the lobby, "The museum's closed for the day, folks."
Waiting near a display of ancient fossil bones was White, the bustling president of the BW Agency, alongside Azure's graceful Gardevoir. The psychic Pokémon's white-and-green gown seemed to shimmer softly under the lobby lights.
As soon as she caught sight of Azure, her crimson eyes lit up with a gentle, serene warmth. She glided forward, her steps making no sound against the polished floor, and offered a soft, telepathic greeting directly into Azure's mind. 'Welcome back, Master. I knew you and Black would secure your Basic Badges without a single doubt.'
Azure murmured aloud, flashing a relaxed grin, "Thanks, girl."
He reached up to stroke the side of her head, earning a soft, pleased hum from the Pokémon. Before Azure could say another word, however, White burst into motion, shaking in excitement. Overwhelmed by an explosive cocktail of businesswoman ambition and unbridled excitement, she practically sprinted over, grabbing Azure by one arm and shaking it with frantic, rhythmic enthusiasm.
White squealed, her eyes practically sparkling with dollar signs and Broadway dreams, "Azure! Black! You won't believe it! The mayor! The mayor of Nimbasa City just accepted my proposal! We're officially doing a Pokémon Musical!"
Black blinked, momentarily pulled out of his hyper-fixation on league strategies. He asked, confused, "A... musical? Like, singing?"
White threw her hands into the air, her imagination already painting vivid, theatrical strokes across the lobby ceiling, explaining in an excited tone, "Not just singing, Black—spectacle! Grandeur! Costumes! I can see it now! A specially constructed stage with hydraulic lifts, pyrotechnics timed to the beat, and Pokémon dressed as royalty, pirates, and magical creatures, dancing in perfect synchronization! We need to head to Nimbasa immediately at the crack of dawn to map out the production design, sort the lighting rigs, and draft the choreography contracts!"
Azure chuckled, resting his free hand on his hip. He said coolly, "Sounds like you've got your work cut out for you, White. Better get some rest."
White declared, turning on her heel with a determined huff. She flashed a brilliant, triumphant smile and hurried toward the exit doors as she replied, "Oh, I am! I'm heading straight to the Pokémon Center to sleep so I can wake up bright and early!"
*Fwump*
A sudden, strange disturbance rippled through the air. From behind Black's belt, a soft, glowing pink orb of pure psychic energy materialized. Musha, Black's Munna, floated into the air, her large, drowsy eyes locked entirely onto White's retreating figure.
A thick, sweet-scenting vapor began to curl from Musha's snout as she detected the rich, vivid, utterly delectable flavor of White's ambition-filled dreams. Musha cooed, drifting forward with her mouth agape, preparing to feast on the glittering psychic residue of White's showbiz fantasies, "Muuunnaaa… (Foooood~)"
Black yelled, his face flushing red as he lunged forward with athletic desperation, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hang on a second, Musha!"
*Grab*
He clamped his arms around the floating Pokémon, wrestling her back toward his chest like a man trying to tackle a greased-up Ursaring. He tried scolding Musha, "No eating dreams in the middle of the lobby! You'll wipe out her entire Nimbasa City musical plan before she even books the venue! Stay back!"
Musha grumbled, her stubby legs kicking uselessly against Black's jacket as he frantically dragged her back into alignment with a defiant cry, "Mnnnph! (No! Me hungie! Her dreams are so… so… delicious~)"
Azure burst into laughter, shaking his head. He wiped a tear off his eye, commenting with a pleased expression, "Hahaha! Classic Black. Can't take your eyes off the prize—or your own team, for that matter."
Black panted, struggling to hold the floating dream-eater down, and yelled back, "Shut up, Azure! You don't know how hard it is to keep her on a diet when people are having high-concept business epiphanies!"
Azure grinned, turning his attention back to his Gardevoir. He asked politely, "Say, Gardevoir? Do you think you could do me a favor tomorrow? Teach Black's Musha a bit of discipline, or maybe help her and Zorua figure out how to harmonize their Telepathy? Zoura's been whining about wanting a mental sparring partner."
Gardevoir placed a delicate hand over her heart, a graceful smile gracing her lips. She replied mentally with her Telepathy, 'It would be an absolute pleasure, Master. Besides, the theatrical energy in this region is becoming quite fascinating. I'd love to see how the local showbiz operates.'
Azure said happily, giving her head another affectionate pat that made her cheeks flush with faint satisfaction, "Thanks, girl."
She leaned in closer, her telepathic voice dropping to a confidential whisper that only Azure and his hidden partners could hear, 'By the way, Master... I caught wind of some local chatter while you were battling Lenora. Team Plasma is planning another one of their grandstanding speeches about Pokémon liberation later...'
Azure's expression hardened just a fraction before melting back into a smirk. He tapped the side of his Arc Phone, where a tiny, digital blue face materialized on the screen saying, "Ah, liberationists. Right on schedule."
Rotom's voice buzzed out electronically from the device, asking mischievously, "Did someone say Team Plasma? Shall I hack their sound system to play polka music instead of revolutionary speeches?"
Azure chuckled, "Hold your circuits, Rotom."
He reached down to his shadow, where a faint, indigo swirl of mist pooled against the floorboards. From the darkness, a pair of glowing red eyes and a mischievous, toothy grin emerged. A soft, feminine giggle echoed directly into Azure's ear.
Gengar's voice rasped playfully in the shadows, her spectral form shimmering in and out of visibility, and she said mischievously with an eager grin, "Leave the boys in grey to me, boss. I'm gonna prank them so hard they'll be arguing about whether Pokémon should liberate them by sunrise. Maybe turn their robes neon pink and make their microphones turn into rubber chickens."
Azure whispered back with a wink, "Just keep it entertaining, Gengar."
*Shoom*
With a soft shoom, Gengar melted back into his shadow. Azure turned to follow Black, who was still trying to negotiate with a stubborn Munna while shouting apologies to an empty doorway. Watching the young trio of trainers bicker and hustle toward the exit, Lenora threw her head back and let out a deep, booming laugh that echoed off the museum's stone walls.
Lenora smiled, her hands resting on her hips says, "Hahaha! "Ah, youth… So full of drive, ambition, and utter chaos. You can't help but admire it."
*Bzzzt—Bzzzt*
Lenora blinked, reaching into her pocket as the sharp, insistent vibration of her pocket communicator cut through the quiet. She pulled out the rugged, heavy-duty device, raising a thick eyebrow as she muttered in a curious tone, "Now who on earth would be calling at this hour?"
*Click*
She pressed the receiver and said, "Lenora speaking."
A deep, gravelly voice barked through the speaker, laced with an unusual edge of tension, "Lenora! Thank goodness you're still up."
Lenora's posture instantly straightened. She replied in a surprised tone, "Clay? It's past midnight out in Driftveil. What's going on?"
Clay said urgently, his tone unusually hurried, talking over the phone, "I'll cut straight to the point, because frankly, I don't like the feel of this thing sitting in my gym. One of my diggers—my Excadrill—just unearthed something from an ancient, deeply buried geological layer during some subterranean expansion work. It's a stone. But I've been in the mining and trading business for 28 years, Lenora, and I have never, ever seen anything remotely like it."
Lenora's professional curiosity was instantly piqued asked, "A stone? What kind of stone? A fossil? An elemental slate?"
Clay muttered, the sound of boots pacing heavily against a wooden floor coming through the mic, "I don't know. When I reached out to touch it bare-handed just a few minutes ago... I got zapped. Not like static electricity from a Joltik, mind you. It felt like... cold, heavy energy biting right into my bones. It's got a strange, unnatural pulse to it. Makes the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up, and I ain't easily spooked."
Lenora's eyes narrowed in professional focus. She asked firmly with a serious expression, "You think it's dangerous?"
Clay corrected her bluntly in a tough tone, "I think it's heavy… Too heavy for a Driftveil gym full of ground-types and miners. I want you to take it. Bring it to your museum, lock it in your most secure analysis vault, and tell me what the hell we're dealing with. It's giving me a bad feeling, Lenora."
Without a second thought, Lenora nodded firmly. She replied in a firm tone, "Say no more, Clay. I'll pack up my field kit and head out to Driftveil on the first transport train in the morning to pick it up."
Clay grumbled, though a hint of respect bled into his voice as he replied, "Morning? Nah, I was hoping you'd come right away. Though, knowing you, I suppose I shouldn't have expected any less. Be careful on the rails, Lenora. I'm locking the stone in my reinforced safe until you get here."
*Click*
The line went dead. Lenora lowered the communicator slowly, her brow furrowing as she stared out the dark, arched windows toward the southern horizon. A strange stone, buried for ages, radiating an energy that unnerved even the toughest Gym Leader in Unova. Little did she know, however, she wasn't the only one listening in.
/////
[Unova Region, Nighttime, Driftveil City – Outskirts]
Deep within the subterranean labyrinth of Driftveil City's industrial air shafts, a tiny, insectoid mechanical drone whirred silently on micro-servos. Its single, glowing optical sensor flickered with data streams, transmitting audio straight from Clay's office out into the open night air. Parked discreetly on the gravel-strewn outskirts of the city, hidden beneath the shadow of a rusted cargo crane, a matte-black surveillance van sat idling.
Inside, illuminated only by the emerald glow of multiple computer monitors, three figures sat in tense, coordinated silence. They wore dark, flowing robes adorned with pale, austere crests—the unmistakable uniform of the Shadow Triad. The first man whispered, his voice like dry leaves scraping across concrete, "Did you hear that, brothers?"
His red-tinted visor caught the reflection of the terminal screen. He continued, "The stubborn old miner found it. The Dark Stone."
The second man leaned forward, a chillingly calm smile stretching across his face. He added, "Excadrill dug it straight out of the ancient strata. Just as Master Ghetsis predicted. The lingering resonance of the dragon sleeps within that rock."
The third man added, his fingers deftly tapping across a keyboard to trace Lenora's expected transit route, "And the Nacrene Gym Leader is foolish enough to travel for it. She intends to secure it in her museum tomorrow morning. Which works entirely to our advantage."
A low, collective chuckle rippled through the van.
The first man agreed, folding his arms into his sleeves. "Indeed. If we attempted to take it directly from Clay's vault tonight, we would have to contend with a stubborn old man and a swarm of Ground-type heavy-hitters. But breaking into a museum while a Gym Leader is away on a fool's errand?"
He shook his head, his eyes gleaming with fanatical devotion. He finished with a grin, "Child's play."
The second man murmured, his gaze fixed on a digital map plotting the coordinates between Driftveil and Nacrene City, "Let her collect it. Let her carry it right into the heart of Nacrene. No need to collect it now, as we know where it will be located. Every step we take brings us closer to our ultimate, glorious destiny..."
*BEEP*
Across the dashboard, a holographic projection flickered to life, casting the silhouette of a massive, dormant, black-scaled beast with glowing red eyes—the legendary dragon of ideals, Zekrom.
The Shadow Triad shared a silent, predatory grin as the van's engine hummed to life, melting stealthily into the midnight fog, leaving the quiet town of Driftveil behind as the gears of an ancient, grand conspiracy began to turn.
/////
[Unova Region, Meanwhile, Nacrene City – Plaza]
Back in the heart of Nacrene City, the cobblestone plaza was bathed in the amber glow of old-fashioned streetlamps. A small, bewildered crowd had gathered around a makeshift stage where Team Plasma was holding yet another one of their uninvited, high-pompous rallies.
Standing at the podium, draped in his billowing, high-collared sage robes, was Gorm. One of the Seven Sages of Team Plasma, Gorm possessed a booming, theatrical voice that he used to preach the gospel of Pokémon emancipation.
Gorm cried out, sweeping his arms dramatically across the crowd as several grunts flanked him in synchronized rigidity, "Think of your beloved partners! You cage them in Poké Balls! You force them to fight for your amusement! True happiness for a Pokémon can only be achieved through absolute liberation! Release them! Let them return to the wild, where they belong, unburdened by the shackles of human ownership!"
A few citizens muttered uncomfortably, while others rolled their eyes, having heard this exact speech three times this week alone. Hidden entirely within the inky, elongated shadow cast by the base of the podium, Gengar crouched in the dark, her glowing eyes wide with malicious delight.
Gengar muttered to herself, her tongue tracing her sharp fangs, "Oh, brother. If I must listen to one more speech about 'shackles,' I'm going to hurl. Literally."
*KA-BOOM*
A wicked grin stretched across her face. Inspiration struck as a bolt of lightning flashed in her mind. With a silent motion, Gengar reached her stubby hand directly into her own mouth, rummaging through her spatial stomach-pouch…
*Schhlk*
With a soft schhlk sound, she pulled out a massive, bulging burlap sack. She giggled silently whilst channeling her Ghost-type energy, "Let's see how much they love being liberated from their dignity…"
*Swf-swf-swf*
Using a flick of her wrist, Gengar executed a localized Phantom Force. A swirling vortex of purple shadow rippled upward, bypassing the physical floor and opening small, localized spatial portals directly behind the legs of every single Team Plasma grunt on stage, and right beneath Gorm's flowing robes.
Out from the portal—propelled by Gengar's telekinetic push—shot a torrential, high-velocity barrage of overripe, bruised, and aggressively mushy tomatoes!
*Splat—Squish—Ploff*
Gorm shrieked as a particularly large, fermented beefsteak tomato struck him squarely in the back of the head, exploding in a shower of pulpy red seeds and sour-smelling juice that splattered across his pristine white collar.
"Gwaah!"
One of the Plasma Grunts shouted to a grunt to his left, only to take a direct hit to the face from a flying plum tomato that struck his nose with a wet, resounding thwack, "What in the—who dares?!"
*Thwack*
The crowd gasped, then instantly erupted into a chorus of uproarious laughter and cheering. Gengar wasn't finished as she cackled mentally, 'Take that, you pompous windbags! YOU STINK!!'
Gengar kept up a relentless, machine-gun-style volley of rotten produce flying out of the shadows, pelting the grunts from behind with pinpoint accuracy. Grunts tripped over their own matching boots, flailing wildly as they tried to bat away an endless stream of airborne slime. Gorm spun around frantically, wiping red pulp from his eyes, his majestic demeanor completely shattered. He screamed in a furious tone, "Stop this! Find the assailant! This is an outrage against our sacred mission!"
Gengar purred, her eyes flashing with pure mischief, "And for the grand finale… I knew collecting this stuff would come in handy someday!"
She reached deep into her pouch one last time and pulled out a pressurized, industrial-sized metal canister. Painted on the side was a stark, hazardous warning label featuring a crude drawing of a Stunky.
It was a can of pure, unadulterated Stunky stink gas from their rears—a foul-smelling, scientifically concentrated liquid musk capable of lingering in the air for twenty-four full hours, carrying across a radius of two kilometers, and possessing enough olfactory trauma to induce temporary, stress-induced memory loss in anyone unfortunate enough to inhale a full dose.
With a wide, toothy grin, Gengar pitched the canister straight up through the shadow portal and said joyfully, "Bon Appétit!"
*Clatter*
The canister landed with a sharp metallic ring right at Gorm's feet, its safety valve snapping off on impact. Then began to hiss…
*HIIIIIIIIII-SSSSSSSSSSSSS*
A thick, violently green, opaque cloud erupted from the canister with the force of a geyser. In less than a second, the entire stage was swallowed by an apocalyptic fog of absolute putridity. It smelled like a mixture of rotten garbage, chemical waste, a skunk's breeding ground, and damp gym socks left in a microwave.
Gorm shrieked, dropping to his knees and clutching his face as tears streamed uncontrollably from his eyes, "GACK! COUGH! AGH, IT BURNS!"
The stench hit him with such concussive force that his brain temporarily short-circuited, wiping his memory of the last ten minutes of his own speech. All around him, the Team Plasma grunts collapsed in a groaning, coughing heap, clutching their stomachs and weeping openly as the horrific miasma rolled out over the plaza, sending the audience scattering backward in a fit of gagging laughter and applause.
High above the chaos, floating invisibly near a streetlamp, Gengar held up her Rotom Phone, capturing every glorious second of Gorm's dramatic breakdown in high-definition video. She was satisfied doing this kind of work.
*Click*
She tapped the screen, instantly uploading the footage directly to her newly created, heavily trending PokéTube channel under the title: [TEAM PLASMA SAGE GORM AND CO. GETS ABSOLUTELY DESTROYED BY ROTTEN TOMATOES AND STUNKY GAS (PRANK GONE WRONG??)]
Within seconds, the view count began to skyrocket.
*Swoom*
Gengar wiped a tear of pure mirth from her eye, grinning ear to ear as she watched the wretched, gasping grunts stumble backward into the alleyways like drunken sailors. She whispered into the night air, giving a little salute to the fleeing cultists before sinking backward into the shadows, vanishing without a trace to report her glorious victory back to Azure: "Job well done."
/////
A/N: Hope you like the chapter!