The morning air in Jubilife City was crisp and freezing, a stark reminder that Sinnoh's climate was far more unforgiving than Kanto's.
Eric walked out of the towering Jubilife Mega Mart, his spatial watch newly stocked with all the supplies he would need for the upcoming journey.
Eric also went ahead and bought a Pokétch! There were some cool things that were much better on it than the phone.
He tapped his Pokétch, projecting a holographic map of the region.
A high-speed bullet train could take him directly to Eterna City in a matter of hours. But Eric swiped that option away.
He wanted to explore the region and train his Pokémon along the way. It wasn't like he was in a rush; Haunter was still a bit far from evolving.
"We go on foot," Eric decided.
The shortest route to Eterna Forest was a straight hike north through Route 204, passing through the Ravaged Path, taking a brief stop in Floaroma Town to rest, and then pushing through Route 205 directly into the forest.
It was a multi-day trek through dense wilderness. A perfect training trip.
With his route planned, Eric pulled his dark jacket tighter against the cold and headed toward the northern exit of the city.
---
Meanwhile, just a few miles outside of the city limits, a confrontation of epic proportions was brewing.
Old man Juro was absolutely, thoroughly sick and tired of that stubborn geezer, Jackman.
For years, the two of them had argued in the plazas and cafes of Jubilife City. Juro firmly believed that Dialga, the deity of Time, was the superior entity. Without the steady, unbreakable march of time, everything would be frozen - meaningless.
Jackman, on the other hand, was a devout follower of Palkia. He argued that without the infinite, expanding canvas of Space, Time would have nowhere to exist.
The debates usually ended with them waving their canes at each other until Officer Jenny broke them up. But yesterday, Jackman had crossed a line. He had publicly stated that Dialga's metallic neck ridges looked like "an overgrown bicycle rack."
That was it. Diplomacy was dead.
Having decided to settle this once and for all, the two elderly men had agreed to meet outside the city on Route 204, far away from the prying eyes of the Jubilife police force. The one who proved to be stronger in a Pokémon battle would definitively prove which deity was superior.
The wind howled across the rocky, uneven terrain of the route.
Juro stood with his hands resting on his wooden cane, adjusting his suspenders. Opposite him, Jackman scowled, pulling his heavy blue parka tighter around his shoulders.
To a casual observer, it looked like two frail, grumpy grandfathers arguing over a parking spot.
But as the wind died down, the rustling in the tall grass behind them revealed the truth.
These two were not ordinary old men.
"You've run your mouth for the last time, Jackman!" Juro roared, his frail, shaking voice suddenly dropping into a booming, gravelly baritone.
"You think you can take me, you glorified clock-watcher?!" Jackman spat back, his posture instantly straightening as a terrifying, borderline Advanced-level aura erupted from his body.
Behind Juro, over fifty rough-looking thugs stepped out of the treeline. They wore matching sleek, silver-and-blue leather jackets with a clock dial stitched onto the back.
Behind Jackman, an equal number of hardened criminals emerged from the rocks, clad in pearl-pink and black vests emblazoned with a spatial rift insignia.
These weren't just cranky retirees.
Old man Juro was the ruthless, undisputed boss of the Time Gang, and Jackman was the iron-fisted patriarch of the Space Gang! Their philosophical debates in the city were actually highly coded turf wars over Jubilife's lucrative underground markets!
"Crush these spatial degenerates!" Juro roared, pointing his cane like a sword. "For the glory of Time!"
"Wipe these ticking relics off the map!" Jackman yelled. "For the expanse of Space!"
Hundreds of Poké Balls were unclasped simultaneously. The narrow gorge of Route 204 was instantly flooded with Machokes, Houndooms, Bronzongs, and Skuntanks. The two rival mobs roared, charging at each other with unadulterated fury to finally settle their theological and financial disputes in blood.
Crunch.
A few dozen meters away, Eric stood at the entrance of the gorge.
He looked at the army of fifty thugs in silver jackets. He looked at the army of fifty thugs in pink vests. He looked at the two old men from the plaza, currently commanding Advanced-level Pokémon to tear up the landscape.
The entire width of Route 204 was completely, utterly blocked by a massive gang war.
Eric stood there in the cold wind, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his black jacket.
He sighed.
'I hate fanatics'
---
Far away from the freezing winds of Sinnoh, in a damp, underground hideout somewhere in the Kanto region, Lex sat in a rusted metal chair with a wicked grin on his face, his eyes staring at the computer screen in front of him.
Once he knew the name, it wasn't hard to look up the data.
"Sinnoh, huh..." He leaned back on his chair as he murmured.
"Oh Eric, Eric, Eric... I hope you've enjoyed your time till now... because soon, very soon, I will be coming to make your life so miserable that you wished you were dad...Kuha...Kuhahaha!"