The forest road lay quiet, the hush broken only by the low rumble of an approaching engine. Dust curled up as a blue motorcycle came into view, the officer astride it pulling to a stop with practiced ease. Officer Jenny removed her sunglasses, eyes narrowing at the odd scene before her: a weary boy with a tall, unfamiliar Pokémon at his side, a second small one perched on his shoulder, and a girl sagging half-asleep against his back with a Pikachu bundled close to her chest.
Her gaze locked on Diana instantly. The towering blue figure moved with the grace of something far too intelligent, far too deliberate to be dismissed as "just another Pokémon." Jenny's memory tugged—Academy lectures, old warnings whispered by trainers in the field: Alphas. The kind that bent the balance of power wherever they stood. Dangerous. Unpredictable.
"You." Jenny's voice cut sharp across the air, her hand hovering near her belt. "That thing with you. Why isn't it in a ball? You know the regulations—an Alpha like that is a hazard. I should radio this in before someone gets hurt."
Bob shifted his stance but didn't flinch. "She's not a thing. Her name's Diana, and she decides for herself. If she wanted to walk away right now, she could. If she wanted to fight, we'd all know it. But she's with me." His voice held no apology.
Jenny's jaw tightened. "You're telling me you just let a wild Alpha roam at your side? That's negligence, kid. That's—"
"My Pikachu is sick!"
Ashley's cry cracked through the rising tension like a lightning strike. She clutched the trembling mouse tighter, cutting both adults off mid-breath. "Please—he's burning up, he can't even stand—he needs help now!"
The moment froze. Jenny's eyes darted to the Pikachu, catching the faint, uneven sparks flickering from his cheeks, the shallow rise and fall of his chest. The sharp officer's glare melted into something else—urgency, a decision already forming.
Bob adjusted his hold on Ashley, voice even but firm. "You heard her. Pikachu first. Arguments later."
Jenny hesitated only a heartbeat, then snapped her helmet visor down. "Fine. Get on. Viridian's less than a mile—no time to waste."
The motorcycle roared to life. Bob moved quickly, setting Ashley gently into the sidecar. She leaned back against his chest as he climbed in behind her, his arms wrapping firmly around her waist so she wouldn't be jostled. Ashley, secure now, lifted Pikachu from her backpack and cradled him against her chest, whispering soft encouragements even as her own body trembled with phantom pain spasms.
Jenny shot Bob a wary glance. "And her? That Alpha—"
Before Bob could retort, Diana inclined her head, her voice brushing across their minds in calm telepathy. I will follow.
With a ripple of psychic force, she lifted herself into a graceful float above the ground, gliding to keep pace with the motorcycle.
Jenny blinked, visibly unsettled—she didn't know what she was seeing, not really—but her eyes sharpened when she noticed Libre perched on Bob's shoulder. She muttered under her breath, half to herself, "Another Alpha…?"
Bob didn't correct her.
Jenny gunned the throttle. "Hold on tight. We're getting that Pikachu to the Center, now!"
The bike tore forward, wind whipping past them. Ashley pressed her cheek against Pikachu's fur, murmuring promises he couldn't hear, while Bob kept his arms steady around her, holding her and the mouse both as if the road itself might try to steal them away. Diana floated alongside like a silent sentinel, her gown trailing like mist. Libre stood tall on Bob's shoulder, tail curled like a heart, eyes fixed ahead as if daring the road to throw something at them.
Viridian's skyline was waiting, the Center's red roof gleaming like a promise.
----
Viridian city
The streets of Viridian blurred past in streaks of gray pavement and red rooftops as Jenny's bike thundered forward. Bob could feel every vibration of the engine through Ashley's back, her weight leaning faintly against his chest. She clutched Pikachu close, murmuring encouragement through gritted teeth as another spasm tightened her shoulders. Libre's tail brushed his ear as she crouched steady on his shoulder, ears perked like antennae catching every sound. Diana glided at their side in silent, floating grace, the faint hum of her psychic field trailing like a second engine note.
Jenny cut the engine hard at the foot of the Pokémon Center, tires screeching. "Inside. Now." Her tone was sharp, clipped, but her eyes flicked once more to Diana, wary and calculating. She didn't know what the towering Pokémon was, only that it carried itself like a storm given form—and that was enough to set her instincts buzzing.
The sliding glass doors opened on cool air and antiseptic light. Nurse Joy was already waiting, as if the urgency had been transmitted ahead of them. Her gaze fell on the limp Pikachu in Ashley's arms, and her gentle voice hardened into steel. "Quickly—he needs immediate care."
Ashley stumbled forward, nearly dropping Pikachu in her panic, but Bob steadied her with a firm hand on her waist. Together, they crossed the tiled floor and laid the little mouse into the waiting Chansey's arms. Pikachu whimpered, sparks fluttering faintly across his cheeks before vanishing into exhaustion.
"He fought too hard," Ashley whispered, voice cracking. "He… he kept going even when—"
"Don't blame yourself," Joy cut her off, efficient but kind. "What he needs now is rest and treatment. Leave him to us." She nodded once, and Chansey disappeared down the hallway with the gurney.
The silence left behind was heavier than the engine's roar had been. Ashley's fists clenched against her sides, trembling. Bob wanted to say something—comfort, maybe—but the words tangled useless in his throat. Instead, Diana stepped forward, lowering her hand just enough for Ashley to feel the brush of calm psychic warmth ripple across her skin.
Jenny exhaled, tension bleeding out of her shoulders as she turned on Bob again. "You're lucky that Alpha didn't spook anyone on the way here. Next time—"
Ashley spun on her heel before Bob could answer, her voice cutting sharp. "If it wasn't for them, Pikachu wouldn't even be alive right now!"
Jenny froze. For a moment, her jaw worked like she wanted to argue—but the sight of Ashley's shaking frame, her fire dimmed by exhaustion and fear, silenced her. Jenny only gave a curt nod. "Stay here until he recovers. Don't stir up more trouble." She shot Bob one last look, part warning, part curiosity at the enigma of his team, then left with the same sharp stride she'd arrived with.
The Center's lobby was quiet now—too quiet, except for the soft buzz of lights and the faint hum of machines hidden behind walls. Ashley slumped into a chair, burying her face in her hands. Bob remained standing for a long while, Diana and Libre at his sides like two halves of an impossible equation: grace and storm.
Aqua's voice finally stirred in his head, sly but low. {Well… that escalated less violently than expected. And hey, congrats—you've officially triggered the "Pokemon Center All-Nighter" story beat. Don't worry, hero, this is where the angst monologue usually happens.}
Bob ignored her for once, eyes fixed on the hallway where Pikachu had been carried.
The seconds dragged. The smell of antiseptic, faint but constant, filled the space. Machines somewhere deep in the walls pulsed in quiet rhythm—proof that Pikachu was being monitored, that Nurse Joy and her assistants hadn't stopped working. Ashley's shoulders shook once, not quite a sob, more like the release of a breath that had been clenched too long. Libre shifted uneasily on the armrest, glancing between her, Bob, and Diana, who stood like a sentry, hands folded in front of her gown as if she were attending a vigil.
Bob lowered himself finally, leaning back against the wall rather than sitting. His eyes never left the hallway, but the edges of his focus caught the shape of Ashley curled inward. He thought about saying something—comfort, reassurance, maybe even a joke—but none of it felt right. He didn't know her well enough to patch those cracks, not yet.
Time blurred. Once, the lights dimmed slightly, signaling the night cycle in the Center. Once, a Chansey padded silently through, a tray of medicines in her careful hands, offering a quick, sympathetic look to Ashley before disappearing down the hall again. Every small reminder that people were working, that Pikachu wasn't alone back there, kept the silence from becoming unbearable.
Libre eventually hopped down, padding across the tile with little taps before clambering into Ashley's lap. The small electric mouse nestled there, stubborn warmth against the girl's trembling hands. Ashley blinked down at her, startled, and then—hesitantly—let her fingers brush over the shiny Pikachu's fur. Libre gave a soft trill, then folded in tight, a tiny furnace of defiance and comfort.
Bob let out a slow breath, quieter than words, but Diana noticed anyway. Her aura touched his thoughts with the calm pressure of presence: she is not alone.
Hours slipped by. Outside, the wind carried faint echoes of the town settling for the night—doors shutting, voices fading, lamps being snuffed out. Inside, the Center became its own world of humming machines and quiet waiting.
At last, the doors to the treatment room slid open with a hydraulic hiss. Nurse Joy appeared, the lines of worry on her face softened now into something gentler. "He's stable," she said, voice steady. "Exhausted, but he'll recover with rest. No permanent damage."
Ashley jerked upright, her hands clutching Libre without realizing. "Can I—can I see him?"
"Not tonight," Joy said firmly, though her tone was kind. "He needs quiet. But tomorrow morning, yes. For now, the best thing you can do is rest yourselves."
Ashley sagged back into the chair, tears pricking her eyes though she fought them down. Relief, fragile but real, finally broke through. She pressed her face into Libre's fur, whispering something Bob didn't catch.
He exhaled hard through his nose, only then realizing how tightly his chest had been bound. "Thank you," he told Joy, and the weight behind the words made her smile faintly before she slipped back to her station.
The quiet returned, but it was a different quiet now—lighter, no longer suffocating. Bob leaned his head back against the wall and let his eyes close for the first time since the Spearow attack. Diana moved closer, a pale sentinel keeping her silent watch.
For a few minutes, neither Bob nor Ashley said anything. The silence wasn't heavy; it was the kind that let wounds breathe. Libre clambered lazily onto Ashley's lap, her usual spark dulled into a drowsy calm. The little Pikachu tilted her head, studying Ashley with eyes that seemed too thoughtful for such a small creature, then nestled down with a soft huff, like she'd decided—for tonight at least—that battles could wait.
Ashley's hand moved automatically, stroking Libre's fur, but her eyes had drifted shut. She was exhausted, but the kind of exhaustion that comes after surviving something bigger than yourself. Slowly, as though the weight of the last day finally forced her body to admit its truth, she shifted sideways in her chair. Her shoulder brushed Bob's arm first, tentative, before she let her head tip fully onto him.
Bob opened his eyes at the touch, blinking in surprise. She hadn't asked—hadn't even seemed to notice what she was doing—but the weight of her head against him was steady, trusting. For someone who had fought to stand alone all day, it was an unspoken surrender to rest.
He thought about moving, about saying something, but decided against it. Instead, he adjusted just slightly, tilting his shoulder so it better supported her. She let out a small breath, almost a sigh, and he felt the tension ease from her frame.
"Figures," Aqua muttered in his mind, her voice softer than usual, like she didn't want to break the moment. {You save the day, and the first thing you become is a pillow. Congratulations, hero.}
Bob didn't respond, not even with a thought. For once, Aqua took the hint and went quiet again.
Libre's ears twitched, her tail curling protectively across Ashley's lap. Diana, still standing sentinel, lowered her gaze slightly, watching the scene with unreadable eyes—but there was a gentleness in her silence, as though even she knew the moment needed to be kept intact.
The clock on the wall ticked on, faint but steady, marking the fragile peace they'd carved out of chaos. For the first time since leaving Pallet Town, Bob allowed himself to simply sit there—motionless, breathing in sync with someone else—and believe that, maybe for a while, things could hold.
Ashley shifted just enough to let her head rest against his shoulder, the tension in her frame unwinding piece by piece. Libre leaned into her side like a warm battery, eyes half-lidded but alert, and Pikachu's faint breathing from the infirmary echoed like a distant heartbeat through the sterile walls.
Bob let the silence stretch. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was… rare. A gift. He found himself counting breaths, syncing his rhythm to hers, letting the chaos of Spearows, storms, and half-healed wounds fade into background static.
But then—like a splinter in the calm—he felt it. That pressure. Not from Diana, not from Aqua, not even from the world outside. No, this was something else. A presence. A heat. The kind of burning aura that men's instincts recognized immediately. He cracked an eye open.
"...Oh no," he muttered under his breath.
Aqua blinked in his head. {What do you mean 'oh no'? I swear, Bob, if you're about to pull another "I can smell rage" line, I—}
"I can feel it," Bob cut in, voice grim with comic seriousness. "A wrath that could bend steel. The sheer, righteous fury of a girl who's about to storm in here and make someone's life hell. And I guarantee it's ours."
Diana tilted her head slowly, curious, as if trying to read the source herself. Ashley stirred against him, frowning faintly. Libre blinked once and whispered a soft, questioning "Pi…ka?"—almost like asking if she should prepare for a fight.
The clock ticked once more. Then the Pokémon Center's front doors slammed open so hard they rattled on their hinges.
A girl strode in like a tempest given human shape. Orange hair bristling, eyes blazing, and in her hands—what was left of a bicycle, scorched and twisted like the corpse of a machine.
"YOU!" she shouted, her voice ricocheting off the sterile walls.
Ashley jerked upright, clutching Libre closer. Bob closed his eyes with a sigh of defeat, muttering, "Called it."
Aqua burst into helpless laughter in his head. {Oh me, this is delicious. Rage incarnate has arrived. Look at that bike—she's wielding it like a murder weapon!}
Misty stomped forward, every step a drumbeat of fury that echoed across the sterile floor. In her hands she carried what was left of her bike—nothing more than a twisted, blackened skeleton of metal. The smell of scorched rubber clung to it, acrid and invasive, filling the Pokémon Center lobby until it drowned out even the clean antiseptic scent of the machines and halls. She brandished it like a weapon, eyes burning as she slammed the ruined frame down onto the counter beside Ashley with a clang that rang through the room.
"This!" Misty's voice cracked like thunder. "Who's responsible for THIS?! Do you have any idea what you've done?!"
Ashley flinched hard, her whole body jerking as though she'd been struck. Her lips parted, trembling around words that refused to form. She wanted to explain—needed to—but her throat locked up under the sheer force of Misty's glare. Bob sat off to the side, arms crossed, leaning back with the faintest exhale through his nose. He wasn't detached—not at all—but he could see the storm coming, and for the moment he chose to wait. Diana tilted her head slowly, her calm presence unreadable, while Libre leapt onto the armrest beside Ashley and flicked her ears back. She narrowed her eyes at Misty, gave a sharp flick of her heart-shaped tail, and muttered, "Pika…" The single word was quiet, but the tone unmistakable: trouble.
Misty's eyes never left Ashley. "That bike was mine! Do you hear me? Mine! Do you know how long I worked for it? Do you know what I sacrificed to get it? And now—now look at it!" She slapped the broken handlebars with her palm, her voice breaking with raw anger. "It's nothing but ashes and junk! And you—" her finger shot forward, trembling, stabbing the air in Ashley's direction "—you're the one who took it!"
Ashley's chest tightened, tears already pricking at the corners of her eyes. "I… it wasn't—"
"Don't!" Misty snapped, her words sharp enough to slice through the air. "Don't you dare try to worm out of this with excuses. Do you think I'm an idiot? Bikes don't just explode on their own. You did this. You!"
The pressure in the room mounted, heavy as a storm front closing in. Ashley's fingers dug into Libre's fur, clinging for strength, but her breathing quickened until each inhale came shallow and uneven. She tried again, forcing the words out past her stammering throat. "The Spearows—"
"Oh, please," Misty spat, eyes narrowing with disbelief. "Don't drag wild Pokémon into your mess. You think I'll believe a story like that? Spearows don't fry bikes, and they don't leave them smoking ruins. You can't just throw their name around and think it'll cover what you did. Admit it—you wrecked it!"
Ashley's body curled inward, her shoulders tightening like she was trying to fold herself small enough to vanish. The edges of panic showed in her face—her lips trembling, her eyes darting, her lungs fluttering as though the very act of breathing had become impossible.
And still Misty pressed forward. "That bike was supposed to take me places. Supposed to keep me safe. And now what do I have? Nothing! Nothing but a pile of metal and smoke! Do you even care? Do you even understand what you've taken from me?!"
Bob's jaw clenched. He had sat still long enough, but seeing Ashley's knuckles white from gripping Libre, her voice cracking into silence under the weight of Misty's accusations, pulled something sharp from him. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and his voice came out low, hard, and final.
"Shut. The hell. Up."
The words dropped like stones into water, and the ripples stopped everything cold. Misty froze mid-breath, blinking as if slapped. Ashley startled, wide-eyed, caught between shock and gratitude. Even Diana, for all her composure, lifted her chin just slightly, as if acknowledging that Bob's patience had finally fractured.
He rose to his feet, eyes locked on Misty with a quiet fury that made her take half a step back despite herself. "She's been trying to explain since you stormed in here," he said, his voice steady but carrying the kind of weight that silenced rooms. "But you're too busy screaming to hear it. You want someone to blame? Fine. But you don't get to tear her apart without letting her speak."
Ashley's breath hitched, the panic threatening to overwhelm her—but now, with the space Bob had forced open, she tried again. Her voice was trembling, weak, but this time it wasn't cut off. "The Spearows… they came after me. There were so many, I couldn't run fast enough. Pikachu tried… he tried to protect me. He used Thunder… but it hit your bike. If he hadn't…" Her words faltered, breaking apart into sobs. "…we'd both be dead."
The silence after her confession was brutal. Misty's fingers tightened on the bent frame of the handlebars, her jaw clenched, her glare faltering. The fury was still there—anger never dies so easily—but now it cracked at the edges, jagged with something else: doubt, hurt, even the smallest flicker of guilt.
Bob didn't soften his stare. He stood his ground, arms crossed now, his presence heavy enough to press the point home. "That's the truth. You don't have to like it. But don't you ever unload on her like that again. Not after what she's been through."
Ashley buried her face in Libre's fur, shoulders shaking, tears dampening the Pikachu's coat. Libre's ears flicked back, her eyes narrowing at Misty as though daring her to try again. Diana stood tall behind them all, a pale tower of silent judgment.
And Misty, for the first time, said nothing.
Misty's glare shifted now, narrowing as her eyes cut across the room and landed squarely on Bob. For a moment, she only stared, lips pressed thin, the ruined handlebars trembling in her grip. The silence wasn't relief. It was pressure—the kind that builds before a storm decides which direction it will break.
"So that's it, huh?" she finally said, her voice low, dangerous in the way quiet fury can be. "You swoop in and play hero because she bats her eyes at you? Or is it more than that?" Her words sharpened, rising like knives being unsheathed. "Is that why you're defending her so hard? She keeping you company at night already? Giving you something for your trouble?"
Ashley froze. The color drained from her face, tears catching on her lashes. "W-What—?"
But Misty didn't stop. The anger had her now, twisting into something uglier. "Don't tell me it's not true. Guys like you don't stick their necks out for nothing. So what is it? Did she promise herself to you if you saved her? Or did you already take what she offered, and now you're just protecting your prize?"
Bob's shoulders went rigid. His jaw tightened, but he didn't speak. Not yet. He knew this kind of rage—knew that the wrong word at the wrong moment would only fuel it. His silence wasn't weakness. It was caution, every muscle poised like a man standing on the edge of a cliff waiting to see if the ground beneath him would hold.
Ashley, though, looked like the words had struck harder than any Spearow's talons. She shook her head violently, her voice breaking in protest. "No! It's not—Bob, he—he's not—" The panic laced her words, her breaths shallow and quick, as if Misty's accusations had reached into her chest and stolen the air.
But Misty pressed forward, relentless, her voice rising with bitter certainty. "I knew it. I knew the second I saw you clinging to him like a lifeline. Don't act like you're some saint—girls like you always find a way to survive. Even if it means crawling into someone else's bed."
The Pokémon Center air turned sharp, like glass dust suspended in light. Diana's head tilted, the faintest crease forming at her brow as she studied Misty with quiet disapproval. Libre's ears went flat, her tail snapping once like a whip as she pressed closer to Ashley, a growl rumbling low in her throat—uncharacteristic for her, but protective now.
Bob finally moved. Slow. Controlled. The kind of movement that didn't belong to someone caught off guard or fumbling for words, but to a man who had decided—truly decided—that enough was enough. His boots ground against the Center's tile as he closed the distance. Misty stood her ground at first, chin jutting defiantly, but when his shadow stretched across her shoes, she faltered.
He didn't raise a hand. He didn't raise his voice. He just looked at her. Looked at her the way a predator looks at something that's making too much noise in its territory. His eyes locked on hers—cold, unblinking, merciless. The kind of stare that dragged every ounce of heat out of the room. The one that said move another inch, and you won't like what happens next.
Misty's bravado cracked, just slightly, but pride forced her lips to curl back. "What? You gonna prove me right? Step up and show her I was telling the truth?" Her voice wavered at the end, but she pushed it anyway, the words falling sharper, nastier. "I bet she already has, hasn't she? Girls like that—too weak to stand on their own—they'll do anything to keep a protector. Even if it means—"
"Stop!" Ashley's voice tore out, trembling and raw, but Misty didn't even turn to her.
Ashley's whole body shook, and her hand clutched at Bob's shirt from behind, tugging with desperate strength she didn't have. "Please," she whispered, broken, as if begging both of them—Misty to shut her mouth, Bob not to explode.
Diana's aura pulsed stronger, a cool pressure against Bob's spine as though the towering psychic herself were bracing him with invisible hands. Libre hopped down onto Ashley's lap, puffing herself up, tail snapping against the chair arm like a warning whip, her little voice rumbling with a sound no one expected from her throat.
Bob leaned down, slow, until his eyes were level with Misty's. Her breath hitched; her grip on the burnt handlebars trembled. He didn't need words. His silence was louder than anything she'd said. It told her, plain as day: Say one more thing. One more. And see what happens.
The tension twisted tighter, so sharp it felt like the room itself might split—
"Enough!"
Nurse Joy's voice cracked through the moment like lightning. Not shouted, not panicked, but commanding. The air itself obeyed. Even Diana stilled, her aura withdrawing like a tide at her call.
Misty flinched back, lips parting but no words coming out. Ashley collapsed against Bob's back, sobbing into his shirt. Bob straightened slowly, his gaze breaking from Misty's only to land on Nurse Joy, whose pink-haired silhouette now carried more weight than the whole room.
"This," Joy said firmly, eyes cutting between them, "is a Pokémon Center. A place for healing. Not for hate."
The sun outside had dipped lower now, streaking the lobby in bruised orange light. And though no one moved at first, everyone could feel it—the storm had broken.
Bob said nothing.
He didn't need to. His silence was heavier than any threat he could've spoken aloud. It was the kind of quiet that filled the room with pressure, the kind that made Misty's shoulders stiffen and Ashley cling harder to his shirt, as though even she could sense that every ounce of his control was balanced on a knife's edge. His eyes never left Misty's, steady, cold, and unwavering. Not furious—not yet—but something worse. Patient. Watching. As if daring her to test how long he'd keep that leash tight.
Diana stood just behind him, tall and still, her presence a wall of calm against the storm brewing inside her trainer. Her eyes flicked from Bob to Misty, then to Ashley—who trembled, wide-eyed and pale, her breath coming too quick as though the weight of the accusations still pressed against her ribs. Libre, pressed close in Ashley's arms, twitched her ears and flicked her tail with sharp, agitated snaps. She didn't understand every word, but she understood tone, she understood pain, and she understood that Bob was one word away from doing something that would leave this room forever changed.
Nurse Joy's sharp command had cut the moment apart before, but even now the atmosphere still hadn't settled. The silence that followed was brittle, fragile. Every second that passed without someone breaking it made the air more suffocating.
Then the world broke itself.
The Center's double doors detonated inward in a shriek of twisted hinges and splintered frame, slamming against the walls so hard they rattled the hanging lights. The sudden concussive blast of sound ripped through the tension like glass shattering, showering the floor with splinters and debris. Nurse Joy staggered back, eyes wide, barely catching herself on the counter. Ashley yelped, clutching Libre tighter. Even Misty flinched, her bravado bleeding away in an instant.
And through the smoke and dust that curled in the air, two silhouettes stepped inside with the confidence of performers walking onto a stage they believed already belonged to them.
The first was tall and striking—curves that seemed sculpted to draw the eye, her waist impossibly narrow, hips flaring wide with the unmistakable shape of someone built to be both soft and dangerous. Long red hair cascaded down her back like fire given form, framing pouty lips curled in a wicked smile. Her stance radiated arrogance, a queen disguised as a criminal, one hand cocked on her hip as if daring anyone not to look.
Beside her was her partner—broad-shouldered, lean with the carved lines of a swimmer's build. His lavender hair framed a face that carried both charm and danger in equal measure. Where she was sultry fire, he was smooth steel. His blue eyes flickered with a sly kind of confidence, the kind that said he'd rehearsed this entrance in his head a thousand times and enjoyed every step of it.
And padding between them, his tail swishing as though this was all routine, came a familiar figure: a small, sharp-eyed Meowth, standing upright, his mouth already twisting into the smug grin of someone who loved being the center of attention.
Their voices carried together, clear, practiced, theatrical—like villains announcing themselves in an opera.
"Prepare for trouble…" Jesse began, her tone dripping honey and poison alike.
"…and make it double," James finished, his grin spreading as the Pokémon Center filled with their presence.
The words hit the room like a drumbeat, loud and impossible to ignore. Ashley's heart pounded. Misty froze in disbelief. Nurse Joy's hands clenched the counter.
And Bob?
Bob stayed silent. His eyes narrowed, the unspent rage from before finding a brand-new target.
The smoke hadn't even settled when their voices overlapped in perfect cadence, every syllable sharp as a blade.
"To protect the world from devastation…" Jesse's voice rang, velvet-smooth yet commanding, her hips shifting as though the entire Pokémon Center was her stage. The dust caught the fire-red of her hair, glowing like a living flame.
"To unite all peoples within our nation…" James followed, striding forward with swimmer's grace, his hand sweeping dramatically as if to embrace the entire room. His confidence wasn't loud, but controlled, honed—he moved like someone who believed in every word, even if the world laughed at him.
"To denounce the evils of truth and love…" Jesse's lips curled into a dangerous smile, her eyes locking briefly on Bob as though she'd found a new target worth savoring.
"To extend our reach to the stars above!" James finished, voice lifting with practiced showmanship.
"Jesse!" She tossed her hair back, her chest rising, her stance all defiance and seduction wrapped together.
"James!" He mirrored her, his grin sharp, blue eyes gleaming in the light.
"Team Rocket, blast off at the speed of light!" They shouted as one, stepping fully into the glow of the Center's lights now, their silhouettes hardening into presence, no longer ghosts in the smoke.
"Surrender now, or prepare to fight!" Jesse added, her tone a honeyed knife's edge.
"Meowth, dat's right!" the little cat crowed, puffing his chest out, tail swishing smugly as though he had single-handedly orchestrated the moment.
The silence that followed wasn't admiration—it was disbelief. Misty stared, jaw slightly open. Ashley instinctively clutched Libre tighter, who responded with a twitch of her ear and a flick of her tail, her small body tense as though itching to leap into the fray. Diana's eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable, though her body angled forward ever so slightly, poised to act.
And Bob?
Still silent. Still locked down. But this time, it wasn't just rage simmering behind Bob's eyes—it was recognition. Calculation. He knew, even before the smoke had fully cleared, that these two weren't clowns in costumes. Not here. Not in this world. They weren't comic relief, they weren't a gag to be laughed off with a wave of plot armor.
Bob had lived long enough outside this world to know the difference between performance and danger. The cadence of their motto, the dramatic gestures, the swagger—they might have been played for laughs on a TV screen back where he came from, but here? Here it rang hollow in the worst way. It wasn't a show. It was theater with knives hidden behind the curtains.
Ashley couldn't see it, not the way he did. She still carried the optimism of someone who thought this world worked like a story, who thought heroes would always win and villains would always lose. But Bob knew better. Real villains didn't just come for drama. They came for blood, for power, for Pokémon.
And as his eyes tracked Jesse's predatory smirk and James's confident stride, as Meowth's claws flexed like a gambler ready to rake in winnings, Bob understood something that chilled him deeper than the Spearows ever had.
Team Rocket hadn't just walked into the Pokémon Center.
They'd walked into his story.
Ashley pushed herself upright, legs shaky, her hands trembling as phantom aches lanced through her muscles. She wasn't strong enough to fight—not yet. Her Pikachu was still under Nurse Joy's care in the back, sleeping, fevered and fragile. But still, she refused to sit idle. Even if she had nothing to throw into this battle but her voice, she'd stand beside Bob.
Bob noticed the twitch in her stance, the way her breath came shallow, but he didn't tell her to sit back down. He just shifted his body a half-step forward, a silent barrier, his rage contained behind that locked jaw and heavy silence.
Diana's head tilted toward him, her aura pulsing in quiet readiness. Libre crouched low on the chair's armrest, eyes locked on the intruders, her tail curling like a fuse waiting to spark.
Bob finally broke the quiet—not to the Rockets, not yet, but to the ones behind him. His voice was low, steady, but edged with iron.
"Diana—protect them. Joy, Misty, Ashley… they come first. If this goes bad, you move them. Don't wait for me."
Diana's violet gaze flashed with reluctance, but she inclined her head. Libre thumped her fist into her paw, nodding sharply—like a fighter accepting her corner's call. Ashley's lips parted, her throat tight, wanting to protest, but the weight in Bob's tone silenced her.
Then, louder, directed toward the nurse now clutching her own bleeding temple, Bob barked: "Joy—get to the back. More are coming. Reinforcements. Get to the injured Pokémon and get them clear!"
Joy flinched, but only for a second. Her years of training cut through the shock. Blood ran down her temple, but her hands steadied as she straightened. She looked at the girls, then at Diana, then back at Bob. "Hold them as long as you can," she said, her voice like tempered glass. "We'll move the injured. Protect each other."
Bob's lip curled at the corners, just enough to show teeth. "Go."
Joy didn't argue. She gripped Misty by the wrist, snapped at Ashley to move, and when the two staggered into motion Diana flowed with them, a pale tower of protection. Ashley's eyes lingered on Bob—uncertain, guilty, afraid—but his stare never wavered from the Rockets as he planted his boots against the tile.
When the doors slammed shut behind them, Bob's silence deepened. It wasn't just rage anymore. It was a decision.
Bob's jaw stayed locked tight, his silence burning hotter than words ever could. He'd already given Diana her command: protect Ashley, Misty, and Joy. Get them clear. But when the girls moved, when Joy tugged Ashley and Misty toward the back, Libre didn't budge.
The little Pikachu planted herself at Bob's heel, tail curling in that bold heart-shape, sparks flickering along her cheeks. She thumped a paw against her chest and then pointed at Bob, her voice sharp and unyielding:
"Pika!"
It wasn't a question. It wasn't even an offer. It was a declaration.
Bob glanced down at her, and for the first time since Team Rocket burst through the doors, his expression shifted—just slightly. Not a smile, not yet, but the smallest crack in the mask. "Yeah," he muttered. "I figured you'd say that."
Libre's ears twitched, her eyes blazing. She crouched low, ready, like a fighter stepping into the ring. Bob's hand tightened at his side, knuckles white, but his voice came steady when he spoke again—this time to her.
"You're with me, Libre. We hold this line."
She bared her teeth in what could only be described as a grin, the sparks around her cheeks snapping louder, answering him without hesitation.
Across the room, Jesse and James slowed their strut, noticing the strange tableau: a silent trainer with fury bottled tight, a towering Alpha at the door to the back, and this small electric mouse sparking like a storm about to break. Meowth's ears flicked back uneasily, but Jesse's smirk only widened.
"Well," she purred, running one gloved hand down her hip as if she were on a stage rather than a battlefield. "Looks like we've found ourselves a stubborn one."
"Perfect," James said, rolling his shoulders, muscles coiled like wire. "I was hoping for a little resistance."
Bob didn't answer. He didn't waste words. He simply squared his shoulders, Diana already moving to shield the retreating girls, Libre crouched at his side, and his eyes locked on the intruders with the kind of stare that said only one thing:
You picked the wrong Center.