One Day After
The sun rose over Pallet Town, but it brought no warmth. The light only served to illuminate the scale of the devastation. The air was still thick with the acrid smell of burnt timber, wet plaster, and death.
On a secluded hill overlooking the ruins, far away from the flashing cameras and the sobbing crowds, Enzo was asleep. He was slumped against the trunk of an old oak tree, his arms crossed over his chest, finally succumbing to exhaustion after hours of playing the hero.
The crunch of footsteps on leaves woke him. Enzo's eyes snapped open. His hand instinctively went to his belt, a reflex born from a life in the shadows, before he remembered where he was. He relaxed his posture, looking up.
It was the boy. Red stood there, looking like a ghost. His eyes were swollen, staring blankly at nothing. He was still wearing Enzo's jacket, the expensive fabric swallowing his small frame, the sleeves hanging past his hands.
"Hey, kid," Enzo said, his voice rough with sleep but carefully softened. "How are you holding up?"
Red looked down at his shoes, kicking a small stone. "Better..." he whispered, his voice trembling. "Thank you for yesterday. If it wasn't for you... I would be..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
Enzo sighed, standing up slowly and dusting off his pants. He looked at the boy with a practiced mix of empathy and cold calculation. "You don't have to thank me," Enzo said. "Anyone would have done the same."
Red's hands clenched into fists inside the oversized sleeves. His jaw tightened, a flash of pure, unadulterated anger crossing his face. "That's not true..." Red hissed through his teeth.
Enzo watched the reaction. Good, he thought. The hate is already taking root. He didn't press the wound further. Not yet. Instead, he extended a hand. "I never got your name," Enzo said. "I'm Enzo."
The boy looked at the hand, then up at Enzo. "Red," he said quietly.
"It's a pleasure, Red."
They shook hands. The grip of the child was weak, but There were tremors of suppressed rage running through him. Red looked up at Enzo, and for a moment, the grief in his eyes was replaced by a terrifying determination. It was a look that didn't belong on a child's face.
"Enzo..." Red started, his voice cracking. "Please... take me away from here. I don't want to stay in Pallet Town. I have no one left..."
Enzo rubbed his chin, pretending to think. "I can try to get you a spot in an orphanage in Cerulean City," he said slowly. "I grew up there. It's not a palace. It's tough. You have to fight for what you want." He leaned in slightly. "But it can teach you a lot."
Red didn't hesitate. "I accept," the boy said instantly. "I just want to get strong. I'm going to finish elementary school, like my mom wanted, and then..." Red's expression darkened, a shadow passing over his young features. "I'm going to get revenge."
Enzo felt a chill run down his spine. He knew exactly what a future Red was capable of. This wasn't an empty threat; it was a prophecy. He reached out and adjusted the jacket on Red's shoulders, pulling the collar up.
"You can keep the jacket," Enzo said softly. "But listen, Red... I don't want to ruin your plans, but I have to be realistic with you. The Pokémon League doesn't like orphans like us. It's almost impossible to get a Trainer License without a sponsor or connections."
Red looked up, his face flushing with shame and desperation. He looked small. Helpless. "Could you..." Red stammered, looking away. "Could you be my contact?"
Enzo suppressed a smile. It was too easy. "Tell you what," Enzo said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "When you finish school, call me. If you still want to be a Pokémon Trainer... I'll handle your future. Until then... survive."
Red lowered his head. "Thank you," he whispered, tears finally spilling over his cheeks again.
Enzo reached out and ruffled Red's hair, messing up the messy black locks under his red cap. "Be strong, kid."
With that, Enzo turned his back. He began to walk down the hill toward the train station, leaving the fallen hero behind. He didn't look back. He didn't need to. He knew that the seed he had planted in the ashes of Pallet Town would grow into something magnificent, and terrifying. And it would belong to him.
The train station was a skeleton of its former self. Emergency crews had worked through the night to repair the tracks, welding metal and clearing the twisted remains of the platform roof. It was functional, but it felt fragile, much like the girl standing in front of Enzo.
Lilian Jenny was in her full uniform, but the usual crisp authority was gone. She looked exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her shoulders slumped under the weight of the tragedy.
"I'm sorry, Enzo," Lilian said softly, refusing to meet his eyes. "I won't be able to make it to Cerulean for your final match. My aunt needs help here... the station is overwhelmed. I have to help this town. It's my home."
Enzo nodded, his expression the picture of understanding. He reached out, resting a hand gently on her arm. "Don't apologize," he said, his voice warm and steady. "I understand."
Lilian looked up at him. In the midst of the smoke, the ruin, and the death, he was the one thing that had remained solid. He was her savior. Overcome by a sudden, overwhelming wave of gratitude and emotion, Lilian surged forward. She didn't think; she just acted. She grabbed the lapels of his shirt and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his.
It was a desperate, clumsy kiss, fueled by grief and relief.
Enzo didn't pull away. He didn't freeze. He leaned into it, his hand moving to rest protectively on her waist. But his eyes were open. Over Lilian's trembling shoulder, Enzo's gaze locked onto a reflection in a nearby window. A news crew from Goldenrod was positioned across the tracks. The red light of the camera was blinking. He saw the angle perfectly: The Hero of Pallet Town and the local Officer Jenny, finding love in the ashes. It was the kind of propaganda money couldn't buy. It was a gold mine for his reputation. He held the pose for exactly three seconds, long enough for the perfect shot.
Lilian pulled back suddenly, realizing what she had done. Her face flushed a deep crimson, her eyes wide with embarrassment. "I... I'm so sorry!" she stammered, stepping back. "I shouldn't have... I just..."
Enzo gave her a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Lilian. Take care of yourself."
The whistle blew. A shrill, piercing sound that cut through the moment. Enzo stepped onto the train. The doors slid shut with a pneumatic hiss, sealing him inside the cool, air-conditioned cabin. Through the glass, he saw Lilian standing on the broken platform. She waved, a small, lonely figure against the backdrop of a destroyed town.
Enzo raised his hand and waved back once. Then, as the train lurched forward and picked up speed, he turned away from the window. He sat down heavily in the plush seat. The mask fell instantly. The warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by a dull, heavy exhaustion. He closed his eyes and let out a long, deep sigh.
It's done.
His shoulders dropped as if strings had been cut. The confident, heroic posture vanished, replaced by the slump of a man carrying the weight of a massacre. He sank into the plush seat, staring at his reflection in the darkened window. He looked older. There was soot in his hairline and blood—not his own—dried under his fingernails.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the TR Device. The screen glowed harsh and bright in the dim cabin. He typed a message to his squad.
> To: Proton, Ronnie
> Message: Returning. Have the report ready.
The reply came three seconds later. > From: Proton > Message: Ok.
Enzo typed the next message.
The important one.
> To: Executive Nero
> Message: Pallet Town Mission Complete. Objectives secured. Returning to base.
He hit send. He watched the screen. One minute passed. Two. Nothing. Usually, Nero's response was immediate—a sharp critique or a cold affirmation. But the screen remained silent. Radio silence, Enzo thought, a knot forming in his stomach. How is the Island attack going? Did they get the DNA?
He turned off the screen and looked out the window. The landscape of Kanto rushed by in a blur of greens and browns. Peaceful. Unaware. But in the reflection of the glass, Enzo didn't see trees. He saw the piles of rubble. He saw the small shoes sticking out from under a collapsed wall. He saw Delia's eyes losing their light. The guilt surged up from his gut, hot and acidic. It clawed at his throat. I killed them, his mind whispered. I am a monster.
He tried to rationalize it—it was for the greater good, it was to save the world—but the logic felt thin against the weight of the dead. But his body betrayed him. The adrenaline crash was absolute. His eyelids felt like lead. The rhythmic clack-clack of the train on the tracks became a lullaby. The guilt lost the battle to biology. Enzo's head fell back against the seat, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
"Sir? Sir, we have arrived."
Enzo jerked awake. A conductor was tapping on the glass door. Enzo blinked, disoriented. Cerulean City. He rubbed his face, composing himself. He put the mask back on. The weary hero. The survivor. "Thank you," Enzo said, his voice raspy.
He grabbed his bag and stepped onto the platform. He expected a quiet arrival. He was wrong. A wall of flashbulbs blinded him instantly. A media circus was waiting. They had tracked his train.
"Enzo! Enzo! A word for the Kanto Times!" "Is it true you fought five Wailords by yourself?" "What did Professor Oak say to you in private?"
Enzo stopped. He swayed slightly, feigning extreme exhaustion. He held up a hand, shielding his eyes. "Please..." he whispered, his voice cracking perfectly. "I just... I just want to rest."
The local police force pushed through the crowd, creating a cordon. "Back off! Give the boy some space!" a sergeant yelled. He grabbed Enzo's arm gently. "Come with us, son. We'll take you to your hotel."
"Thank you, officer," Enzo said, leaning on him heavily.
They escorted him to a patrol car and drove him to the luxury hotel where the Tournament participants were housed. The police saw him to the lobby, keeping the press at bay. Enzo thanked them again. Once inside his room, he entered the bathroom, locked the door, and reached for his belt.
"Porygon-Z," he whispered into the steam. "Teleport us to Base."
A distorted, digital light enveloped him. The tiles of the bathroom dissolved into pixels. In a blink, Enzo was gone.
The air inside the warehouse shimmered. Pixels coalesced into flesh, and with a low hum of displaced air, Enzo materialized in the center of the concrete floor. He stumbled slightly upon arrival, the digital transport scrambling his equilibrium, but he quickly steadied himself.
The base was exactly as he left it. The industrial lights hummed overhead. The white tents lined the back wall like silent sentinels, and the old oil drum heater cast a warm, orange glow against the grey concrete.
Proton was sitting at the metal table, dangling a string for his Sprigatito to chase. Ronnie was sprawled on the old, worn brown leather couch, looking utterly ridiculous with his smooth, shaved head reflecting the TV glow.
"Boss!" Ronnie cheered, jumping up from the couch and pointing at the screen. "You made it! Look at this! The news isn't talking about anything else! You're a national hero!"
The door to the basement lab hissed open. Leni walked up the metal stairs, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. He was grinning. "I just got off the encrypted line with an old contact," Leni said, his eyes gleaming with intellectual pride. "Oak's servers were wiped clean. Decades of research, gone in a blink. He's running around like a headless Torchic. That was a stroke of genius."
"We crippled them!" Proton added.
The warehouse filled with their laughter and celebratory chatter. They were high on the success. They saw the mission as a game, a tactical puzzle that had been solved perfectly.
Enzo stood there, frozen in the middle of the room. The sound of their laughter grated against his eardrums like sandpaper. He didn't see the victory. He saw the mother buried under the beam. He saw the red stain on the white pavement. He saw the fear in Lilian's eyes. And here they were. Laughing.
"SHUT UP!"
Enzo's scream tore through the warehouse, echoing off the high metal ceiling. The laughter died instantly. Ronnie froze mid-cheer. Proton's Sprigatito hissed and hid under the table. Leni stopped wiping his hands. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.
Enzo walked forward, his eyes burning with a terrifying intensity. He looked at each of them. "Do you find this funny?" Enzo asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
He pointed at the small TV screen, where the ruins of Pallet Town were smoking. "The mission was a tactical success. Yes. We did what we had to do. But do you have any idea what happened down there? Do you know how many children saw their parents get crushed to death? Do you know how many orphans like us we created today?"
Enzo slammed his hand on the metal table, making the map jump. "You can be satisfied with the result... but never, NEVER, celebrate the death of innocents in front of me again. We are villains because the world forces us to be, not because we enjoy the slaughter. Do you understand me?"
The atmosphere in the room was crushing. Ronnie looked down at his feet, his bald head gleaming under the lights, shame written all over his face. "I'm... I'm sorry, Boss," Ronnie mumbled. "I didn't think... I was just happy you were safe."
Enzo looked at them. He saw their fear. He saw their loyalty. He realized he had gone a bit overboard. He took a deep breath, forcing the images of the dead back into the dark corners of his mind.
"Forget it," Enzo said, his voice returning to a calm, commanding neutral. "Just remember it for next time."
He reached into his inventory and pulled out a small glass vial filled with a shimmering blue liquid. He tossed it through the air. Ronnie caught it clumsily with both hands. He looked at the vial, then at Enzo, terrified. "Is this... is this poison?" Ronnie asked, his voice trembling. "For screwing up?"
Enzo let out a short laugh; only Ronnie could make him laugh in a situation like this. "It's a hair tonic," Enzo said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I bought it. Unless you want to continue looking like an egg for the rest of the month."
Ronnie's eyes went wide. He touched his bald scalp, then looked at the bottle like it was the Holy Grail. "Hair?!" Ronnie yelled. "Yes! Oh, thank god!"
The tension shattered instantly. Ronnie popped the cork and sniffed it, grinning like an idiot. He picked up his Litten and threw his Rattata into the air in celebration. "I'm getting my hair back, buddy!"
Enzo watched him for a second, the darkness lifting slightly. He turned to the scientist. "Leni," Enzo said, his tone all business now. "I want the thesis on the Fairy Type ready for publication. We need to start the next phase."
"On it, Boss!" said Leni.
Enzo signaled Proton to follow him and descended the metal stairs into the basement level of the warehouse. The air down here was cooler, smelling of ozone and chemicals. In the corner, the Hypno was sitting cross-legged, gently rocking a baby Slowpoke to sleep with a pendulum swing.
When Hypno saw Enzo, its eyes glowed briefly. Using telekinesis, it floated a metal tray from the workbench over to Enzo. On it sat ten Poké Balls, their red surfaces gleaming under the fluorescent lights. The loot from Oak's Lab.
"Let's see what we have," Enzo murmured.
He activated his System [Observe]. The windows popped up one by one for the first nine. Most were Deep Green, with one Light Blue—a rare specimen. And then... he reached the last one. Subject 10. Enzo focused on the ball. The System window expanded, bathing his vision in blue light.
[ SYSTEM SCAN — TARGET IDENTIFIED ]
Specimen: Pikachu
Level: 5
Potential: DEEP BLUE
Ability: Static
Typing: Electric
Moves Detected: Thunderbolt, Quick Attack, Thunder Shock, Tail Whip...
Obs: ""Prime of the Species. High Volatility. Electric sacs: overdeveloped.
Enzo stared at the screen, blinking twice to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Thunderbolt at Level 5? Deep Blue Potential on a starter? It was a monster in the making. It was Red's Pikachu no doubt about it.
The System prompted him: [Inject Virus? (Y/N)]
Enzo swallowed dryly. He tapped Yes.
He watched the status screens flicker violently as the digital virus rewrote the genetic code of the Pokémon inside. The text scrambled.
[ SYSTEM SCAN — TARGET IDENTIFIED ]
Specimen: Pikachu (VIRUS ACTIVE)
Level: 5
Potential: LIGHT PURPLE
Ability: Static
Typing: Electric
Moves Detected: Thunderbolt, Quick Attack, Thunder Shock, Tail Whip...
Obs: Trait acquired: Artificial Bond. Obedience secured. Volatility: high. Electric sacs: overdeveloped.
Enzo let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Light Purple. He had never even seen that before.
Then, he picked up the Light Blue potential Pikachu—Subject 9. He injected the virus into that one as well, watching the potential stabilize at a solid Blue. He turned to Proton, holding the ball out.
A new notification popped up in Enzo's vision:
[ SYSTEM ALERT ]
Transfer Artificial Bond? (Y/N)
Enzo tapped Yes. He felt a slight tug in his mind as the System severed the command link to the and ball and re-routed it.
He tossed the ball to Proton. "Take care of him," Enzo said. "That is an elite weapon. Treat it right, and it will fry anything in your path."
Proton caught the ball. "Thanks, Boss."
Enzo took the Light Purple ball and clipped it to his belt, hidden away. "This one stays with me," he whispered.
"Now for the rest," Enzo said, looking at the eight remaining Deep Green balls. "Grab them. We are going upstairs."
They walked up to the main floor of the warehouse, where the makeshift training arena was marked on the concrete. "Ronnie! Get over here!" Ronnie scrambled off the couch, his Litten and Rattata in tow.
"Release them," Enzo ordered. He threw the eight balls into the center of the arena. Eight confused, frightened Pikachus materialized, sparks flying from their cheeks as they huddled together.
"We are doing live target practice," Enzo announced coldly. He pointed to the group. "Proton, take the three on the left. Use your Sprigatito and Rattata." "Ronnie, take the three on the right. Use Litten and your Rattata."
Enzo then grabbed a ball from his own belt. "Froakie. You're up." The Bubble Frog materialized, blowing a bubble, looking relaxed. Enzo pointed to the last two Pikachus remaining in the center. "Those two are yours," Enzo whispered to the frog. "Now, listen. You have a Type Disadvantage. Electricity beats Water. But they are just level 5 and let me tell you, if you let the cats and the rats outpace you... if you struggle against just two while they handle three... they are going to think you are weak."
Froakie froze. The bubble popped. He looked at Litten, who was already growling. He looked at Sprigatito, who was licking his paw. The frog's expression shifted. Weak? Never.
"Begin," Enzo commanded. "Objective is to faint them. Don't hold back."
The training was brutal. The arena erupted in chaos. Proton and Ronnie coordinated their attacks, their Pokémon diving into the clusters of Pikachus. Froakie didn't wait. He moved with vicious speed. One of the Pikachus, cornered and desperate, began to charge a massive spark. Froakie realized he couldn't dodge in time. He didn't panic. Instead, he dropped low, scooping up a handful of grit and dust from the dirty warehouse floor. Just as the Pikachu opened its eyes to aim, Froakie flung the dirt straight into its face.
The Pikachu squealed, blinded, pawing at its eyes, the electricity dissipating harmlessly. Enzo smirked. Always with Dirty tactics...
Froakie capitalized instantly. He slammed the blinded mouse into the concrete with a water-infused kick before it could recover. He refused to let the fire and grass starters outshine him.
Five minutes later, silence fell. Eight Pikachus lay fainted on the concrete, smoke rising from their fur. Froakie stood over his two victims, panting but triumphant.
"Good," Enzo nodded. He walked among the fallen, recalling them one by one into their balls. As he did, he injected the virus into each. [Virus Injection Complete] The eight Deep Green potentials shifted up to Light Blue.
Enzo handed the stack of balls to Proton. "Take these back down to Hypno," Enzo ordered. "Tell him to heal them and put them in stasis."
Enzo paused, remembering a specific detail from their inventory. "And Proton... tell Hypno to store them in the same box as that low-potential Charmander"
Enzo went to take a shower and he made dinner after that he went to his tent.
He sat on his cot. Suddenly, a sharp PING echoed in his head. A holographic window unfolded in the darkness of the tent.
[MISSION UPDATE]
> Project Mewtwo: Phase 2 (Distraction) Status: COMPLETE
Note: Due to the chaos in Pallet Town, Kanto forces were diverted. The Team Rocket Strike Team successfully infiltrated the Island and acquired the Mew DNA.
Enzo let out a breath. It worked. The guilt was heavy, but the result was undeniable. Then, the text scrolled down. The locked section of the quest chain shattered, revealing the final phase.
> Project Mewtwo: Phase 3
Objective: Travel to the Orre Region.
Task: Infiltrate the Cipher Organization.
Target: Retrieve all research data on Project Codename: XD001.
Enzo froze. He stared at the alphanumeric code glowing in blue. He knew that code.
It wasn't just a strong Pokémon. It was the ultimate corruption. The one that couldn't be purified.
Enzo looked at the empty air, his face pale. "Shadow Lugia..." he whispered.