"Believe me or not, the choice is yours," Feng Che said with a calm smile. "If I die, at least I'll have a League Elite Four member to keep me company in the afterlife. Team Rocket would probably give me a hero's burial. Meanwhile, the League would be in quite a bind without their Dragon Master, wouldn't they?"
Feng Che knew the lore. In the future, Lance would eventually cross lines and trigger Pokémon-related disasters, but for now, he was still the League's most righteous pillar. More importantly, he was a survivor. Even after defying the League later in life, he'd still end up as the Champion of Johto.
This is a thigh worth hugging, Feng Che thought.
Lance stared into Feng Che's eyes, his inner conflict visible. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. If you heal me, I let you go. If you fail... you're coming with me."
Lance took the vial, uncorked it with his teeth, and gulped it down. He was surprised by the pleasant taste. Almost immediately, the "thousand ants" gnawing at his marrow began to settle. The violent tremors in his limbs subsided, and his ragged coughing eased.
"That only suppresses the symptoms," Feng Che warned. "Let me see the wound."
He pulled back Lance's tattered cape. On his right arm was a blackened, pulsating abscess the size of a bowl. In the center was a thumb-sized puncture wound—clearly the work of a poisoned projectile.
Koga's clan... Feng Che recognized the signature. As a master of ninjutsu and toxicology, Koga's poisons were complex cocktails, nearly impossible to neutralize without high-end lab equipment.
"Lance, do you have a Zubat or anything similar?" Feng Che asked.
"I do. I caught a high-potential Zubat a few days ago," Lance admitted, his face flushing slightly. He was often mocked for being a "Dragon Master" who mostly used Flying-types. He pulled a silver ring from his finger—a high-tech League storage device—and released a Shiny Zubat.
"Shiny... lucky bastard," Feng Che muttered. "Zubat, use Leech Life on the abscess."
The green bat sank its fangs into the dark swelling. Zubat saliva contains a natural anesthetic, and as a Poison-type, it could safely consume the toxic blood as nourishment. Slowly, the swelling went down. Lance looked pale from the blood loss, but the immediate lethal threat was gone.
Feng Che quickly treated the Pidgeot pair as well, feeding them stamina tonics. They chirped their thanks and retreated to their nest.
"Drink this," Feng Che handed Lance an orange recovery potion. "We aren't safe here. I have a hidden treehouse nearby. If other Rocket members see you, we're both dead."
Lance, supported by his Dragonite in a comical "princess carry," followed Feng Che.
[Dragonite: Wow, Lance is actually blushing. I wish I had a camera right now.]
Feng Che suppressed a laugh at the dragon's thought.
The Treehouse.
When Lance woke up, the room was filled with a rich, medicinal aroma. He saw his Dragonite peacefully eating a jelly-like substance. His own wounds were wrapped in leaf bandages and no longer throbbed.
Feng Che was sitting by the fireplace, grinding herbs. He didn't look up. "There's a green bottle on the nightstand. Drink it. It's an antidote for the residual toxins."
Lance noticed that every time Feng Che moved his hand, herbs from across the room would float into the mortar. A Psychic? "I've cleared the main poison," Feng Che said. "But there's a deeper issue. Your Dragonite... it's been poisoned with 'Time.'"
Lance froze. "What?"
"It's a League toxin," Feng Che said gravely. "It forces rapid cell division. It makes the Pokémon feel incredibly powerful for a short time, then causes total organ failure and premature aging. Whoever gave this to your dragon wanted it dead—and they wanted it to look like 'natural' battle fatigue."
"The League... did this?" Lance's world view cracked. He had always seen the League as absolute justice.
"Go to a contact you trust in the Pokémon Center for a toxicology report. If they can't help... come find me. Here, feed it these energy blocks I made; they'll stabilize its immune system."
"Where... where are we?" Lance asked, looking at the grilled fish Feng Che was handing him.
"Death Island. A Rocket training ground."
They ate in silence. Lance looked satisfied. "Your cooking is excellent."
"The situation is grim," Feng Che said suddenly. "I just received an order: anyone who reports your location gets an automatic pass and becomes a formal Rocket member."
Lance's eyes sharpened. "And you? Are you going to turn me in?"
Feng Che rolled his eyes. "If I wanted to turn you in, I would have let you bleed out in the bushes. I'm joining Team Rocket on my own terms. I don't need a bounty."
Lance chuckled. "Fair enough."
"I need ingredients," Feng Che said, sliding a list across the table. "If I can brew a Salac Elixir, I can boost Dragonite's neural speed enough to help you break through the Rocket blockade."
Lance looked at the list of rare berries and herbs. He sighed and tossed his storage ring to Feng Che. "Take what you need. I collect everything I find on my travels, but I'm a terrible herbalist. Half of it is probably rotting."
Feng Che caught the ring with his mind, pulling it toward him. He peered inside the 100-cubic-meter space and nearly cried.
"A Mountain Snow Lotus! Why is it just sitting in a pile of dirt?! You're wasting a treasure!" "A Blaze Flower! There's only half a petal left! Where is the rest of it?!"
Feng Che felt a violent urge to hit the Elite Four member. Lance might be a dragon master, but as a pharmacist, he was a criminal.
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