Chapter 4: Break And Enter

November 13

"…possible motives or suspects?"

"No," Dawn mumbled. She stared at the window, sheltering her tears from the officer. For three hours, she, Brock, and a policeman argued back and forth about Ash's disappearance. Eventually, the Pokemon Center's lobby emptied, its trainers resigning to their rooms for the night.

"Welp," said the officer, tapping his pen nonchalantly on his notepad, "there's not much information to work with, but we'll do the best we can to find Mr. Ketchum. Meanwhile, given the condition of the electrical grid we suggest you remain in the Center until tomorrow, when it's lighter out. Also, since this is an open case, I ask that you remain in Hearthome until your friend's been found. Is this understood?"

Dawn said nothing, transfixing her gaze on the darkened streets.

"Sure thing," Brock answered for her. It was the most he could say, really. He only wanted to get some rest. That, and find Ash. The officer walked away to talk to a nurse. Pikachu, nestled on Dawn's shoulder, gave her a lick of reassurance. She gave Brock a look of defeat and lay down on the couch.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid that all of the rooms here have been filled. You're more than welcome to stay in the lob-" A nurse said.

"Fine," Dawn said. The nurse handed her a bundle of blankets and, with a credit-card sized remote, dimmed the lights in the lobby. Dawn and Brock lay on parallel sofas divided by a coffee table, staring at the ceiling wordlessly.

An immense struggle to find sleep ensued. Millions of gruesome thoughts raced through their heads. Neither of them could imagine where Ash was, or what happened to him. Of all the scenarios that played in their heads, none of them ended well. Ash ended up stabbed to death in one, drowned in a river in another. Twice he had his head bashed in with a sledgehammer.

For Dawn, the thoughts suddenly became too much. "Brock?"

It took a few seconds for him to answer. "Whuzzat?" he replied groggily.

She sighed. "What if we don't find him? What if we're too late, and something serious happens to him?" Pikachu grunted quietly and nuzzled himself into a ball to block his ears from their conversation.

"Dawn, everything's gonna be okay," Brock said. "I'm confident that he's-"

"He could be hurt, or dead, or-"

Brock propped up on his elbow and stared Dawn down with a serious eye. "Dawn, he's fine. I know it. He's smart enough to stay out of trouble. In the morning we'll go out looking for him on our own, but for now we need some sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day. Alright?"

Dawn said nothing else to Brock and turned to the ceiling coldly. She focused on the slowly revolving ceiling fan to fall asleep. Disorientation set in with each revolution of the fan, but sleep never found her. After ten minutes, she glanced at her watch. Ten fifty-seven PM.

"This is gonna be a long night," she thought. She continued to stare at the ceiling fan, counting each revolution of the blades like sheep.

Losing count at eight hundred revolutions, she cursed under her breath and closed her eyes for the night. The sound of her breathing penetrated her ears, a metronome of sorts to lull her to sleep. She grew drowsy, but not enough to put her down. She peeked at her watch again; Eleven twenty-seven PM.

"Damnit Dawn, try harder!" she thought. Plugging her ears with her pillow, it took another half hour and loads of struggling before she finally dozed off.

Just as Brock promised, the following day dragged on. By mid-afternoon, the three already kneeled in exhaustion from running around town, searching for any trace of Ash. Worse was that their search turned up nothing.

But throughout the entire day, Dawn felt weightless, floating. It couldn't have been the egg; that still lay in the hands of the nurses back at the Pokemon Center. But if not that, then what?

Brock sighed and stole a glance at his watch. "It's almost two o' clock. Let's grab lunch somewhere, and get back to work." He paused and scanned the street, raising his eyebrows when his eyes met a side alley. "Here, we can take a shortcut to the next street."

Pikachu pounced off of Dawn's shoulder and scurried into the alley, darting between the legs of the other passerby. Brock and Dawn followed suit, jogging steadily toward the same alley. Pikachu stood still in the middle of it, petrified like a statue. Everyone's eyes went wide, mouths agape and stomachs reeling. Brock had to turn away, vomiting in disgust from the sight of Ash's mangled body, bloody and twisted and…

November 14

Dawn awoke in a cold sweat back on the Pokemon Center's sofa. She sighed in relief at the realization that everything she just saw never happened. Her watch displayed "2:41 AM" in bright green monochrome. She took deep, heavy breaths, mentally digesting the mirage of Ash's decimated body.

"It didn't happen," she whispered under breath. "It didn't happen." But she couldn't convince herself otherwise. Her body shook with fright and adrenaline, like Ash's corpse still lay in front of her.

Brock lay sleeping on the adjacent sofa, his mouth half open, drooling on the slumbering Pikachu. Dawn sighed and pinpointed her attention to the ceiling fan again. Not even the droning revolutions of the fan's blades could woo Dawn to sleep. Grunting in futility, she could only sit in silence and wait for morning to free her.

Contrary to the night before, Dawn and Brock were lively with conversation over a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and murky skim milk.

"You think he might be somewhere in the sewer system?" Dawn asked.

"Where would you get that idea?" Brock asked. "I'm not saying that it's out of the question, but what made you think of that?"

"Pika pi?" Pikachu sat on the coffee table between the two, munching on one of Dawn's poffins.

"I dunno," Dawn said. "It just came to me, I guess. But I can't think of anywhere else where Ash might have specifically gone."

"Well, maybe he-" Brock began, but Dawn didn't catch anything beyond that. Under his seat, she noticed, stuck out a black tab of leather. She reached for it and pulled out a black wallet engraved with a red "R". They frowned at the sight of it as Dawn gently stroked the leather curiously.

"Open it," Brock said, welcoming Pikachu onto his shoulder. "See if there's any identification."

Dawn nodded and flipped the wallet open. Inside, under a plastic cover, a young woman's picture displayed itself under blocky lettering that spelled "ROCKET ID." She slipped the card out from under the covering and flipped it over:

LAINA WOODWRIGHT, AGE 19

POSITION: HEAD OF SECRET OPS

SECTOR: WESTERN

"Brock, look at this!" Dawn gasped. She handed the card to Brock, who eyed it with an astounded look on his face.

"You don't think that she's the one that…" Brock stammered, the excitement swelling in his voice. Snatching the wallet from Dawn's hands, he fumbled through the rest of the wallet. The sight of a miniscule wad of cash made his heart sink. He fingered through the bills when a small, pink slip of paper stuck out, a bronze logo for the Hearthome Apartment Complex engraved on the front. His heart soared when he flipped to the back side:

TEMPORARY RESIDENCE CARD

LEASEE: Laina Woodwright

ROOM: 1907

LEASED FROM: November 13th – November 15th

"Today's the fourteenth," he realized aloud. "This Laina girl, if she has Ash…"

He looked Dawn in the eyes, and without speaking they knew what had to be done. Pikachu leapt off of the coffee table, nudging Dawn with Ash's bag.

The three of them packed the rest of their bags, leaving their half-eaten breakfast untouched. Not even thirty seconds passed when they flew out the doors, making a hard left for the Hearthome Apartment Complex.

They sprinted for the first two blocks, but Dawn fell over in the middle of the street, bloodying her knee. From there, they kept a steady jog, wheezing and panting as they went. The urge to stop and rest, to keep their lungs from bursting mounted on their muscles, but they persisted.

Onlookers in the street stared at them with confusion, but Dawn shirked them off. They weren't important; Ash was.

When the apartment building loomed in the near distance, they slowed to a crawl out of anticipation and nervousness. Pikachu climbed back onto Brock's shoulder and clung to it tightly, his nails digging into Brock's flesh.

"What're we gonna do, once we get in there?" Dawn asked. "We don't know how many of those guys there are, or if he's even there!"

Brock shook his head and panted furiously. "I dunno. We'll just have to-"

The roar of an engine above them cut him off. He looked up to see a fighter jet, flying into a circle of identical ones. They circled the city, their noses pointing toward the center of town.

"What the…" Dawn muttered, the shock refusing to register on her face.

"Pika…"

In a great burst of firepower, missiles shot from the planes in every which way, darting into buildings and streets.

"Run!" Brock shouted. The three of them ran into a side alley for cover, leaping over an overthrown patio table. A missile crashed into the skyscraper directly above them, sending a shower of debris into the streets, crushing several pedestrians. Dawn had to dive to the ground to avoid being one of them.

"What the hell is this?" she screamed, grabbing onto Brock's arm in search of support.

His eyes zoomed madly across the scene, failing to digest what was really going on. Blood began to splatter on the road like paint, limbs flew from their bodies, the sounds of agony – crying, screaming, wails of pain – pierced the air. He shook his head, denying everything.

"I-I-I…" he stammered. He blinked back to sanity and whipped toward Dawn. "We have to get to that complex!"

Dawn looked at him maniacally. "Are you crazy?" she shouted. "We'll get killed out there!"

"I don't care! We have to find Ash!" He burst from the alley in a frantic sprint, and Pikachu followed close behind without hesitation. Dawn, despite her fear, ran after them without thought amidst the newly crackling gunfire. Windows shattered around and above them; people fell to the ground dead. A deafening roar crashed through the air as an entire building fell a few blocks away.

A dull white van sped through an alley, nearly mowing them over. Brock shouted curses at the truck, but stopped dead in his tracks, shock registering on his face suddenly. The back door of the van flapped open in the wind, speeding through the chaos of the invasion. Through the open door, a tied and gagged Ash flailed about in the van's rear, muffled screaming emanating from behind the cloth around his mouth.

"There he is!" Brock shouted, breaking into a sprint towards the vehicle. Dawn and Pikachu followed suit, but panic overwhelmed her when her exhausted pants didn't help her catch up to Ash.

"Chu chu pika!"

A thought struck Dawn then, one that would either save or kill Ash. She sent out Mamoswine's Poké Ball, a bullet shaving it just after the mammoth emerged. He flinched at the amount of action around him, but stood his ground nonetheless.

"Use Ice Shard on that van, Mamoswine!" Dawn gasped, refusing to break her stride.

Mamoswine launched icicles the size of lampposts at the van, finding targets in two of the tires. The van flew on its side, screeching and grinding across a war-torn road. As they sprinted still, Mamoswine returned to his Poké Ball, disappearing just before the van halted in a pile of twisted metal and broken glass.

"I'll help Ash, you deal with the drivers!" Dawn called to Brock.

He nodded and ran to the van's door, flinging it open without worry of who might be inside. As it turns out, he wouldn't have to worry. The lone driver, a fat, balding man in his fifties, lay dead on the windshield, blood covering his emaciated body. A woman's handbag lay on top of him. Pangs on guilt curdled in Brock's stomach, but a stray bullet that whizzed by his head negated that. He ran to the rear of the truck to see Dawn and Pikachu helping Ash out of his bonds.

"Ash, you-" Brock began, but short muffles from Ash's gag cut him off. Dawn ripped it off of his mouth, causing Ash to wince in pain slightly.

"I think I broke a few of my fingers in that crash," he rasped, "but other than that I'm alright."

Everyone ducked into the back of the van to avoid the gunfire. Dawn allowed herself a good look at Ash and gasped at his bloodied face and bruised limbs.

"What the hell happened?" she shrieked.

"Later, okay?" he said. "Listen, everything's about to go to shit. We gotta-"

"Slow down, Ash," Brock said. "What's happening, exactly? Don't shirk on the details."

Ash breathed deeply. "Those guys, the one's that kidnapped me – they're from Team Rocket, and they're about to have control of the entire region. What they're doing out there is happening all across Sinnoh. We have to loot whatever supplies we can and go into hiding."

Disbelief struck Dawn, but the frantic, fearful glint in Ash's eyes convinced her otherwise. Pikachu caught the same look, and soon the finality of the situation settled in – steal, or die.

"But what about the egg?" Brock asked mournfully.

Ash winced from his forgetfulness. "OK, Brock, get back to the Pokémon Center and find the egg. You know the layout of the Center best. I'm going with Dawn and Pikachu to the Poké Mart to loot food and supplies. Brock, head for the woods once you're done, but make sure you aren't being followed. Team Rocket wants that egg, and badly. Hide in a tree until we find you, understand?"

Ash fired off all of this at an incohesive rate, but the message seemed to hit Brock dead-on. He nodded and, without bidding goodbye, darted from the van, sprinting madly for the Pokémon Center.

Dawn turned to Ash. "Are we really about to do this? Run for our lives and steal from a Poké Mart?"

Ash nodded grimly. "What choice do we have?"

She nodded and opened the door, and the two of them ran for the lives.

Xander Fletcher uneasily gripped the barrel of his gun, straining to keep the buckets of sweat from rolling down his forehead. He got himself into these operations time and time again, but to kill innocent bystanders as his 'comrades' overthrew the region? Is that what he was about to do?

He looked down at the 'R' on his chest, the symbol of his false allegiance, and decided he wasn't.

The chopper that transported Xander and the other grunts landed in a decimated intersection. The blades' whirring above them slowly died before the chopper's sliding door slid open. Everyone but Xander ushered out with uniformity. He winced at the crackling gunshots in the air, at the young bodies that died without as much as a second thought from their assailants. Looking away from window, he forced himself off of the copter and onto solid earth.

The destruction had only begun, but already Xander could see the havoc being wreaked on Hearthome. Glass and detritus and bodies already lay in shambles across the town. Those that weren't already dead or wounded ran away from the Rockets, clad in grey and armed with automatics. Bullets fizzed in the air, striking trainers and pokémon with random frequency.

He stood still for a moment, gulping down the sight of everything, before remembering his mission. Raising his gun for the first time, Xander fired at a group of nearby runners, keeping his crosshairs lowered and away from any living soul. "I'll do what I have to around these goons," he thought, "but I'm not killing anyone while I do it."

The grunts began to disperse from the pack, subduing trainers or raiding buildings. Xander took the opportunity to dash into a run-down shop. A woman, not much older than him, stood in fear behind a counter, her arms raised into the air.

"Out!" Xander roared, pointing his gun at her head. She whimpered in slight anger and ran from the store. He locked the door behind her and sighed in relief. "Should buy me a couple of minutes," he thought.

He briefly scanned the shop; worn, decrepit shelves stood in rows between walls that leaned forward precariously. Quakes from the invasion outside rocked the store. Xander briskly strode to the counter and relished the sight of a wooden armchair. He sat down and tossed his dark cap aside, running his hands through his coarse red hair.

A bulge in his cargo pocket snapped him back into action. He pulled out two cellphones: a sleek, shiny black one, and a bulky blue Poké Gear. Weighing the two in his hands, Xander chucked te darker one across the room, sending a cloud of dust into the air when it hit one of the shelves.

"I'm a god damn fool to get myself into this shit again," he said to himself. Flipping open his Poké Gear, he punched in a set of numbers before holding the console to his ear. The anticipation that built with each ring that sounded stabbed his eardrums like razors.

"Yes?" answered a gruff voice on the seventh ring.

Xander sighed in relief. "I thought that something might've happened to you, Commander Morawski."

"I should say the same about you, Lance," said the man. "Where are you at now?"

"I just landed with the other Rockets in Hearthome City. None of them have any suspicions, yet. They're completely wrecking this place, though, Algernon. I can't-"

"Understandable," Algernon interrupted. "No need to explain any further. But you can't do anything, and I mean anything, that will compromise your cover, do you understand me?"

Lance chuckled. "I've been doing a good job of that so far, haven't I? Where are the other Sinnoh agents, though?"

A pause. "None of them are even close to the Oreburgh or Sunyshore bases. What's worse is that once the Rocket Empire takes over – and they will take over – there probably won't be any way to communicate with them. They'll all have to find safety on their own, and that includes you."

"Swell," he thought.

"Alright, then," Lance said. "Will that be all, Commander?"

"Essentially," answered Algernon. "But please, Lance, just be careful. You're one of the agency's top executives, there's no way I can afford to lose you out there."

He grunted. "Don't worry about me." He hung up the phone and sighed, turning his attention back to the chaos and destruction outside.

"No big deal," he thought. "This'll just be the Lake of Rage all over again. Except there's much more at stake this time than a Pokemon…"