"Come on, War. This is getting old." You haul the great Nathaniel Morgan back up while he uses his good hand to fight for purchase on the tentacruel's bell. By now the other has swollen up a nasty shade of purple, and the human keeps it well away from everything, the slightest jar drawing forth a bitten-off cry of pain. Now he lies half-curled on War's bell, eyes pressed tight shut as he breathes fast and shallow, convulsive shudders wracking his body. "He is just going to be sick again. Really, you ought to leave him alone."

War waggles his tentacle at you in a dismissive gesture, then lets it slide back into the water with the rest. "I mean it," you say. "No more of that."

That gets a sullen burble of assent, coming up distorted through the water. Even War is starting to get bored with playing pranks. Now he lashes out at a passing tentacool, forcing her to hasty retreat. A few minutes later he sinks another of his kin with a precise blast of water, and you grin, forgetting your irritation with him. Your old friend has become quite the terror of the seas since you last saw him.

You do wish he would quit harassing his other passenger, though. The great Nathaniel Morgan really ought to learn, as you did, to just ignore the tentacruel's teasing, but as of yet he hasn't managed to control his outbursts at the touch of a cold, slimy tentacle against the back of his neck. And, inevitably, when he startles he nearly falls into the water, which only makes him more distressed. You have to admit it was pretty funny the first couple of times, but by this point it's gone far past amusing, in your opinion.

You've been looking for a likely trainer for a while now, hoping to distract War with something more exciting than another tentacool, but with the sun creeping ever westward, most of the humans you've seen have been pressing on to Fuchsia, not interested in stopping for a battle. Not that you've given up, of course. The whole reason you're out here is that you want to be a proper trainer, and proper trainers battle. You crane your head around as War lets out a gurgled exclamation and points off to the right with a couple tentacles.

You can just make out the specks of human heads in the distance, barely showing above the waves. Turning up your senses, you make out a group of swimmers moving at a leisurely pace, laughing and splashing one another as they go. You cup your hands around your mouth and call out to them. "Hey!"

They stop and look around, and you wave at them. "Hello! Would any of you like to have a pokémon battle?"

"This shit again? Why don't you give it a fucking rest already?" the human croaks from behind you. He's sitting with his back to you now, head hanging and one eye slitted open just enough to give you an accusatory look. He swallows thickly and adds, "Whatever happened to your crazy goddamned hurry, anyway?"

"Thanks to you, I am already far beyond late. A little extra time will not hurt. Besides, this is what a trainer does."

It looks like he's about to protest, but the swimmers are close now, and the girl at their head calls out. "Hey! Battle? I'm in. If your brother there wants to join us, I'd love a double."

"I'd be in for a double, too," pipes up one of her friends.

"I do not think a double battle would be a good idea. My brother is not feeling well." And indeed, as the great Nathaniel Morgan half turns around to see what's going on the girl catches a glimpse of his face, and her smile falters.

"Umm, oh wow. Yeah. He doesn't look so good. Are you... are you sure you want to battle? Maybe you should find somewhere to stop off for a bit instead."

"You're lucky I feel like I'm going to throw up if I talk any louder than this, you piece of shit," the great Nathaniel Morgan hisses, barely moving his lips.

"It is fine. He will be fine. But my pokémon really wants to battle. Just a one-on-one?" You take Thunderstorm's pokéball out of your pocket and enlarge it.

"Well... if you're sure, yeah, I'm down." The girl glances around at her companions. "Unless somebody else wants to? I kinda feel like I'm killstealing here, I've been the one fighting all day..."

"Marina, maybe you're missing the part where nobody else likes to battle," says one of her friends, to general agreement.

"Well, I wouldn't mind," says the boy who'd spoken up earlier, but Marina's not listening.

"Oh, come on, guys!" she says with a laugh. "Where's your sense of your adventure?"

"Just go on and battle already. We'll watch."

That's all the encouragement she needs, thankfully. You'd been getting tired of their back-and-forth. "All right! One on one it is," the swimmer says, turning back to you. "I hope you're okay with a no-wager battle. I kind of don't have any cash on me, 'cause, well, you know..." She makes an expansive gesture.

What, because of the ocean? What has that got to do with anything? You could use the cash, too, but after a few seconds of consideration you decide to let the matter go. After the number of rejections you've gotten today, you're not going to turn down what might be your only opportunity to have a trainer battle. "That is fine. We do not have to play for money."

"Great! I'll use Staryu." On cue, a yellow point rises out of the water in front of her, the rest of the starfish pokémon staying hidden below the waves.

This'll be fast. "Good. Go, Thunderstorm!" you say, tossing the magneton's pokéball out over the water. But Marina shakes her head as your pokémon takes shape, hands raised defensively.

"Whoah, whoah, whoah. Hey, not cool. I'm not fighting that guy."

"Why not? If you are worried about the type disadvantage, there was no agreement not to—"

"Umm, no. Hello, electricity? In the middle of the ocean? One lightning bolt from that magneton and I get electrocuted along with Staryu. If you're going to use that guy, I forfeit. I don't want to get roasted, you know?"

"She has a point," Thunderstorm drones.

For a moment you stare at the two of them, the human frowning at you, the mangeton bobbing gently up and down, blissfully unconcerned. Why does everything have to be difficult today? All you wanted was a battle. Why is everyone being so unreasonable?

"Fine then," you say, and flick the front of the Thunderstorm's pokéball to recall it. For a moment you sit there frowning, running your hands over the other pokéballs on your belt. Titan's gone, and you're sitting on War. That leaves Rats, and Rats, well...

"Sorry," Marina says. "I know you and your magneton really wanted to fight and all, but... not here, you know?"

"Yes. I suppose."

Maybe she catches your mood. "So... I guess I'll let you guys go, then. Maybe we can battle some other time, if you're coming back this way."

"Oh?" That cements your resolve. Going to try and back out now, is she? You're not going to let her get away with that. "No, I have other pokémon. Rats!"

The raticate takes shape next to you, and War's bell, barely big enough for two humans, is abruptly very crowded. Rats gives you a puzzled look, but after a second a flash of recognition lights her eyes. "Hey, Boss. New look?" Then she twists around to see what's pressed up against her back and receives a sullen glare from the great Nathaniel Morgan. "Wait. Who's this schmuck?"

"My raticate would be happy to battle you," you say pointedly.

"I wha—?" Rats turns around again and takes in the full scene: the ocean, the swimmers floating in it, the inscrutable spike of the staryu. "Oh hell no. Listen, you ever heard the phrase 'drowned like rats?' Guess what I don't want to be, huh?"

"Go on, Rats," you say, resisting the urge to punctuate your words with a glare. At least Marina can't hear all this backtalk.

"Ugh." Rats glances from you, to the water, then back to you. "Really?" You give her a look that manages to be much calmer than you actually feel. "Okay, you know what? Fine! Just fine, whatever. But you're going to owe me big for this, understand?" Rats hurls herself into the water, landing with a messy splash. "Let's get some commands already," she gasps, dog paddling furiously.

"Start out with hyper fang."

"Staryu, counter with a rapid spin."

The staryu just sits there as Rats fights through the waves, paddling madly with her short legs and cursing under her breath. When she opens her mouth to bite down on the staryu, though, it springs to life, whirling at high speed and battering Rats' snout and face.

"Goddammit!" She falls back, shaking her head, and you wince. You should have seen that coming.

"Okay, Rats. Get it with a quick attack, then hyper fang while it's stunned."

"Just keep spinning, Staryu."

"Quick attack? What do I look like out here, a freakin' poliwra—ow! Ow! Hey, knock it off!"

The staryu rises from the water, still spinning at top speed, and starts making passes at Rats' head, darting in and out to avoid the raticate's snapping teeth. "All right, fine!" she growls, then propels herself out of the water in a surge of motion, paws and tail flailing.

The "quick attack" isn't very fast, and Rats hits the staryu more by luck than anything else, but hit it she does, clean on the gem, knocking it out of its spin. Rats seizes the staryu in her jaws, biting down hard and shaking it back and forth.

"Heh. Goddju now, oo tupig—gaaack!" The staryu sprays a water gun straight down her throat, and Rats drops it, sputtering and coughing. She's been making her mouth such a big target that you're surprised that didn't happen sooner—you'll have to have a talk with her later about why most pokémon battle without commentary.

"Go under and use camouflage, staryu! It can't hit what it can't see!"

"Pursuit, Rats!" you call, at the same moment that she gasps, "Oh, lovely."

The staryu's changing as it sinks, orange skin shading to something glassy and liquid, until light seems to pass straight through it. Rats ducks under as well, just managing to skim her opponent with a dark-wreathed charge before it fades from sight completely. She surfaces a second later, blowing water out of her sodden whiskers and gasping for breath. "No good, Boss. I can't see it at all."

"Okay, Staryu! Let's bring it home. Stay under and keep hitting it with water guns."

Rats yelps, her swimming faltering for a moment as a burst of water knocks her sideways. Then she arches into a pained curl, coughing and choking as another water gun hits her in the stomach. She lashes out with her tail and makes desperate reaches with her claws, but the staryu must be well out of range. "Any ideas, Boss?" she gasps. "Because maybe you can tread water all day while getting shot at, but me..."

You barely hear her, all your attention focused on the staryu. You don't have to be able to see it to know where it is. You stretch your awareness towards the electricity that races up and down its arms, carrying messages that guide the twitch and flex of muscle. Your mind-reading ability is a joke next to that of any true psychic: it's not for you to know the thoughts that pass through other people's heads. But a simple mind reader attack is enough to discover where the staryu is and, watching the play of electricity below its skin, know, just a moment beforehand, exactly how it's going to move next.

"Rats!" Her ears swivel in your direction, and she stops her random lunges, but she's too tired to reply. "Wait. When I tell you, I want you to use double-edge on—now! Behind you to the left!"

Rats doesn't hesitate, pushing herself under and curling into a ball in the same motion. The staryu's paused for a second, readying another water gun. Rats hits it on the edge, and the staryu's camouflage flickers, patches of orange flitting across its body. Rats twists out of her curl and grabs one of its arms in her teeth, then strikes back for the surface.

You imagine the raticate must get at least one more mouthful of water gun for her trouble, but she hangs on even so, snapping her head back as soon as she breaks the surface and tossing the staryu into the air.

It catches itself and hangs, rotating with an unsteady wobble, and fires a bubble beam at Rats. It isn't enough to stop her as she comes up from below, tucked in for another double-edge. She lands a direct hit this time, sending the staryu sailing towards its trainer. Marina manages to get her hands up and catch it before it can hit her in the face, while Rats shrieks, "Ha! Eat it!"

"Well, looks like I'm out, then," Marina says as the staryu droops in her arms, the last of its camouflage fading to nothing. "Good match. I can't believe you managed to figure out where Staryu was like that. You're really good."

"Yes. Thank you," you say.

The staryu is blinking epithets at Rats. "Yeah, same to you, Pointy! Maybe next battle you should try actually fighting instead of running away like a wussy little abra."

"Return, Rats," you say, plucking her out of the water with her pokéball's recall beam. You'll probably have to endure multiple retellings of the battle over dinner, but right now you hardly care.

Your first real trainer battle! And you won! Not that the outcome had ever been in doubt, of course. Like some random swimmer had any chance of beating you. "Thank you for battling. I hope you have a pleasant evening."

"Yeah, same to you," Marina says. "Oh, uh, and I hope your brother feels better, too."

"I am sure he will. Thank you," you say. The swimmer rejoins her waiting friends to teasing and condolences, and they set off again, headed north to Fuchsia. With them gone, you sneak a glance at your unwilling companion. His eyes are closed again, but you can tell he's not asleep, his face set in a grimace of hard lines. You frown for a moment, then look back out at the ocean.

The shadows are growing long. You probably won't be able to find anybody else willing to battle anyway. War strokes on south and west as the day bleeds out in sunset reds, and you ignore the scattered few trainers you spot, most making their way in the opposite direction, leaving nothing to divert the two of you save the odd drifting tentacool.

The last glow fades from the horizon, and in time the stars and sickle moon gleam off the low humps of the Seafoam Islands in the distance. Broken reef-spires show black against pale ocean spray and frame the weatherbeaten hills that mark the entrance to the caverns.

War glides on, skirting around the rocks and putting in near the middle of the island, a flat, featureless expanse between the caves' twin entrances. The tentacruel's motion turns jerky and rocking in the shallows as he lifts himself up to crawl forward on his tentacles. Finally there is a shuddering grind as he plunges his beak into the ground, anchoring himself; then stillness.

You jump down to the beach and stand stretching and shaking the stiffness out of your limbs. War doesn't wait for the great Nathaniel Morgan to get moving and shrugs him off with a quick rolling motion. The Rocket lands with a groan of pain, lying half in and half out of the water, and War goes through his own stretches, massaging his bell with his tentacles, working the imprints of your rear ends out of it.

"Thanks, War," you say, running your hand along the edge of his bell. "I am making dinner soon. Do you want any?"

"No. I'll hunt." There is another crunch of sand and rock as he uproots himself, and then he's toddling back to deeper waters, starlight glinting wetly off the huge red sacs on his bell as he lurches out of sight.

You turn and look around your campsite, considering. There's not much to recommend it outside of the fact that it's the only solid ground for miles, a windswept, exposed stretch of rocky beach. There's a light near one of the hills where Titan sits, staring into the dark cave opening. "Titan!" you call. He turns his head slightly but does not get up. "Come over here a minute, okay?" After a couple of seconds he slowly gets to his feet and starts in your direction, and you return your attention to nearer concerns.

The great Nathaniel Morgan is lying where he fell, shivering, and you prod him with a foot. "Get up."

For a moment you think he's going to ignore you, but then he starts moving, slowly, painfully. At this rate he'll be vertical in an hour, maybe. A sudden stab of irritation has you bending down and seizing him by the arm, hauling him upright while he hisses in pain. "Do not be so pathetic."

"Just you wait, fucker," he says, swaying as you release him. "I'm gonna laugh like hell when you're on your fucking knees, begging me for mercy..."

"I look forward to your attempt at revenge. I am sure it will be amusing," you say, rummaging your pokéballs out of your pocket. "Come on out, everyone."

Titan stomps up just as the rest of your team takes shape. Rats, still sopping, gives herself a vigorous shake and settles down to busy grooming. You glance around, but all the shadows are empty. Absol already knows what's up anyway.

"Everybody," you say, "this is the great Nathaniel Morgan. I'm going to be him for a while, but Absol told me to not let him die, so he's coming with us for a bit." Uncertain glances pass between your pokémon, and it looks like a couple might protest. You raise your hands and keep going. "It will be fine. Just ignore him and let me deal with things. I don't know what Absol was thinking, either, but don't worry about it. She knows what she's talking about."

Nobody can deny that, but the mood is still tense and uncertain. You plunge on, straight into the good news. "We're staying here tonight, and tomorrow we'll be on Cinnabar Island. We're going to train a bit, then face Blaine." A ripple of excitement passes across the group, and even Titan perks up, wings coming up out of their droop.

"So just what makes him great, huh?" Rats has left off preening and is squinting at the great Nathaniel Morgan. Her whiskers twitch, and she makes a "tsk" noise. "Looks kinda dumb to me. Why's he staring?"

You turn around and find the great Nathaniel Morgan tensed to run, eyes wide in the starlight. You realize you've slipped into talking pokémon, and he hasn't been able to understand a word. "I was making introductions. These are my pokémon. Rats. Thunderstorm. You already met Titan. Togetic. Duskull." You indicate each in turn. "And War too, of course."

He barely glances at them. "Yeah, hi." And turns back to you. "What the fuck was that?"

"What?"

"Those... those fucking noises you were making. I thought you were having some kind of fucking fit."

"I told you. I was introducing you."

"And just what in the fuck do you mean by that?"

"I speak pokémon. Obviously."

"What?" His laugh is shallow, breathless, without mirth. "Listen, Freak. Even the wackjobs who claim they can talk to pokémon don't stand there going all 'bark bark growl hiss' at them and shit. Come on."

"Humans do not have to speak the pokémon language to be understood. But I can. I like to."

"Oh, right. Uh huh. The fucking pokémon language." He shakes his head, snorting. "I already knew you were a fucking psycho, Freak, but that? Seriously fucking delusional. Seriously fucking insane. Fucking insane..." He falls into another silent laughing fit.

Titan stretches his wings high and beats them once, letting out a snort as he stares up at the sky, and Thunderstorm is drifting gently to the side, radiating boredom. You decide to let the human think what he wants; you don't care if he's too stupid to see the truth.

You turn back to the team. "I'm going to get some food ready. If you want to help, you can look for wood. That's all." They scatter, all save Rats, who goes on worrying her fur with her tongue. Togetic zooms straight at you, flying a quick loop around your head.

"Yay camping!"

You smile. "That's right, Togetic."

"Where's the TV?"

Ah. "No TV tonight, Togetic. I'm a real trainer now, so we're staying out here. You can watch tomorrow when we're at a Pokémon Center, okay?"

"Mmmm." She bounces as she thinks, ricocheting around in midair. You watch with bated breath, hoping she doesn't start a tantrum. You don't want to deal with that with the great Nathaniel Morgan there, staring at you two like he's witnessing an alien landing. Not that you could blame Togetic for getting distressed—you don't even want to think about everything you're missing out on, yourself.

After a few moments Togetic brightens. "Okay! No TV! Adventure!"

You laugh as she zooms around your head, trilling her excitement. "That's right. Now, you want to help? Can you find me some wood?"

"Yeah!" She zips away, zigzagging low over the pebbly ground and humming a happy nonsense song to herself. The great Nathaniel Morgan follows her with his eyes, frowning.

"And you. Stay out of the way."

"With fucking pleasure," he grunts.

And he does until later, when he settles in by your fire, as far away from you as he can manage. You fuss with the spitting, flaring little thing, cobbled together out of a few pieces of driftwood found bleaching on the rocks, then start rooting in your pack for food. There's nothing to catch around here but fish, and you don't feel like swimming in the black deep of the ocean tonight. It's human fare for you.

"Did you get something to eat earlier?" you ask Titan as he flops down behind you with a gusty sigh.

"Not hungry," he mutters, staring out at the ocean. You frown and scratch the base of his neck, just above where the wings connect. He doesn't acknowledge you, and you don't know what to say, worry and irritation churning in your gut. How can he be mourning that other trainer, the one who stole him from you? You're right here, alive; the two of you are back together again. How could he be sad? But somehow, it seems, he is.

The matter is driven from your mind as Togetic comes zooming in, demanding food in high-pitched chirps. You gently fend her off while you dig a pack of fruit chews out of your bag, then dump a few into your palm and offer them to her. She snatches them and takes off, dancing around the fire and showing off her prize to an uninterested audience, including the great Nathaniel Morgan. "Piss off!" he growls, taking a swipe at her as she darts past. She evades him easily, laughing, and rockets away, probably looking for Duskull, her favorite person to irritate.

The gummies should keep her occupied for a while, but you get out a tupperware full of honey and crushed insects to heat up for her actual dinner. And while you're thinking of it... "Thunder?"

"Wait. You had a motherfucking car battery in your bag this entire time?"

"Obviously," you say as you clip the black contact onto one of the magneton's magnets, the red to another. The magneton lets out a contented buzz as current starts to flow.

"That thing must weigh like thirty fucking pounds! How the hell were you lugging it around all day?"

"It is not really so heavy." You need some food for yourself and Rats. And the great Nathaniel Morgan too, you suppose. He's even more obnoxious when unfed. Soup?

"God. Why don't you use a charging station at a fucking Center?"

"Everyone else is eating. It would not be fair for Thunderstorm to be left out." Chicken noodle. Four cans, you think, to split between you. Plus crackers and energy bars and cookies... you smile as you set up your tripod and collapsible pot, then drag a sudden claw around the rim of a can and lever up the top.

The great Nathaniel Morgan watches, dubious. "You're fucking crazy."

Rats, now dry and fluffed, comes scrambling over as if summoned by the sound of soup hitting pot. She flops down by the fire and immediately tucks herself into a dozy curl, nose buried in the fur on her stomach and paws up over her head.

The great Nathaniel Morgan raises his eyebrows at her. "Your raticate's pretty lazy, huh?"

"He's welcome to criticize after he's spent the afternoon swimming around beating the tar out of uppity starfish," Rats says into her stomach. Then, as if suddenly inspired, she lifts her head a little and addresses Titan. "Hey, that reminds me. You totally missed how I destroyed this lame staryu this afternoon. See, I don't really like swimming, but..."

You smile and shake your head. "You should save that for later, Rats. Titan is not feeling well right now."

The great Nathaniel Morgan frowns at you across the fire. "Oh, come the fuck on. You can't seriously expect me to believe you understood any of that shit."

"Of course I did. You may not believe that pokémon are capable of speech, but I am not stupid enough to agree."

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, fuck off. I know pokémon can talk. I just think you understanding them is bullshit."

"Oh? I did not realize Rockets consider pokémon to be sentient."

A ripple passes through the pokémon gathered around the fire. Titan turns and actually looks at the human, and Rats opens one dark eye to regard him as well. "Rocket?" She flashes her teeth at him. "Maybe you shoulda just ignored Absol and let him die anyway."

It's hard to miss the sentiment there. The great Nathaniel Morgan frowns at Rats as she settles back into her doze, then turns his scowl on you. "Yeah, you got me, Freak. I like to spend my free time kicking baby eevee and repeating my mantra about how all pokémon exist for the glory of Team Rocket and shit."

You nod and set aside the empty soup can to eat later and heft a second one, considering. Is your pot big enough for you to dump this one in too?

"Christ," the great Nathaniel Morgan mutters, and you glance up to find him looking at you with an expression you don't recognize, lips curled back to show a hint of teeth. "Look, maybe you missed the part where Team Rocket kicked me out because I ain't shitty enough for them. You know, while you were all busy doing fuckall and I was getting my ass kicked and all my shit stolen. I thought you wanted to be some kind of pokémon master like all the other trainer brats. Whatever happened to kicking Rocket ass like all the morons in the movies?"

"There were too many of them, and I did not know how strong they were. I did not want to start a fight. And yes, I recall that they thought you had betrayed them. Which you denied. So either they were wrong and you are as bad as any of them, or you were lying, in which case you are a bad person anyway."

The great Nathaniel Morgan blinks. "Oh, shit. For a second there that almost made fucking sense. God, I'm really losing it." Then his expression hardens. "But oh, good one, 'Yeah, I could have done something about it, but I was just too fucking pussy.'"

You tighten your grip on the soup can in lieu of reaching for the Rocket's neck. "I told you before. Your pokémon are your responsibility. Do not blame me for failing to protect them. I would have if I could. And besides, I think they may have more luck with whatever trainer they go to now."

The great Nathaniel Morgan tilts his head and bares his teeth in a ragged, hole-riddled mockery of a smile. "Yeah. You know what? I think I'd be more pissed if you had up and snagged them. At least this way they're probably not going to get stuck with a murderous psycho piece of shit like you."

"I am a good trainer!" Does he want you to kill him? You could, you really could. You can feel the muscles shifting under your skin, bones thickening, talons threatening. How dare he? How could he even suggest? Your words come out husky and strained. "You are a member of Team Rocket. You are not a good person. I am."

"Ooh, nice comeback, jackass. That'll fucking show me."

"You are not listening. I am a good trainer. Me! Your opinion does not matter. You are a worthless, stupid Rocket!"

You're shaking, you notice distantly. Rats' voice comes to you, far-off and small. "Uh, Boss... maybe you oughta, you know, kinda calm down?"

The Rocket's sneering at you, looking incredibly pleased with himself. "Yeah, go on and say it a little fucking louder. I didn't quite hear you the first eight thousand fucking times."

"Shut up! Shut up!" The soup can in your hand explodes, and you stop in shock as cold, slimy broth drips down your wrist and drizzles onto the rocks. Then you shake the can off, extricating your fingers from the holes they've punched through the metal, and leave it lying there in an expanding puddle.

In the silence that follows, you realize that everyone is watching you. Titan is half to his feet, crouched nervously in the shadows behind you. Somehow Rats has made it to your side without your noticing, her paws up on your arm. You shake her off, gently, and sit and suck chicken juice off your fingers until you feel calm enough to talk again.

"If you continue to annoy me, that will be your head," you say to the great Nathaniel Morgan, who watches tensely from across the fire. "You do not know anything, and I am tired of listening to your lies. If you have to speak at all, you had better speak the truth."

He gives you another toothy smirk and starts to cross his arms over his chest, but stops with a wince as he jars his injured hand. "Temper, temper," he hisses, so quiet you almost miss it. And that's the last you hear from him for the rest of the night.