The storage hold of the S.S. Anne still echoed with the shock of Electabuzz's defeat. Smoke curled from broken crates, the floor scarred black where electricity had scorched metal. Charizard's flames still danced faintly in its jaws, each breath a reminder of the dragon's raw power.
Red stood in the middle of it all, cap pulled low, fingers brushing the brim. His eyes never left Lt. Surge, glowing like molten embers in the dark. His silence was heavier than any words.
The two Rocket grunts one with a Raticate gnashing its fangs, the other with a quivering Magnemite were frozen, their commands stuck in their throats. They had seen the way Electabuzz had fallen, how one command from Red had ended the fight before it had even begun.
But Lt. Surge wasn't like his underlings. His smirk had returned, though thinner than before, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of battle.
"You got guts, kid," Surge said, his voice a low rumble. "But don't think you've won yet."
With a flick of his wrist, three more Poké Balls clattered across the floor, bursting open in flares of light.
The steel-plated form of Magneton hovered in the air, each of its three eyes glowing ominously. Next to it, a round Voltorb hummed with unstable energy, sparks crackling across its surface. And last—thick-tailed and fierce-eyed Raichu crouched low, its cheeks sparking with orange arcs.
All at once, the hold shook with the sound of five Pokémon lined against one.
Red didn't flinch. His hand remained steady on his cap, the other resting at his side. Charizard stood like a wall of fire behind him, wings twitching, claws scraping steel with impatience.
"Charizard," Red said, his voice calm, flat, unyielding.
The dragon roared, a sound that rattled the beams of the ship, sending smaller Pokémon scrambling back.
Raticate was the first to lunge, teeth bared, its claws scratching sparks on the steel. Red's eyes flicked once, sharp.
"Wing Attack."
Charizard moved in a blur for its size, one massive wing sweeping out. The gust slammed Raticate mid-charge, hurling it across the room and into a wall with a sickening thud. The rat fell limp, out cold in one strike.
Magnemite whirred, magnets glowing bright, discharging a bolt of electricity. But Charizard's tail lashed, sweeping upward, its flame flaring.
"Flamethrower."
A torrent of fire engulfed the steel orb before it could react, the blast sending it clattering to the floor, blackened and smoking. It twitched once, then lay still.
Voltorb screeched, rolling forward, energy building to critical levels. Surge barked, "Explosion!"
The air tightened. For a split second, the storage room was nothing but tension—then fire and smoke ripped outward as Voltorb detonated, the blast blinding.
But when the haze cleared, Charizard stood tall, chest smoking but unbroken, wings spread wide to shield Red.
Surge's smirk faltered.
"Seismic Toss."
Charizard surged forward before Raichu could spark, claws digging into its fur. With one powerful flap of wings, the dragon lifted Raichu high—slamming it down into the steel floor so hard the whole hold shook. Raichu twitched, eyes rolling, and collapsed.
The only one left was Magneton, humming louder, preparing a Tri-Attack. Its beams charged—red, blue, yellow—energy sparking between its magnets.
"Dragon Rage."
Flames swirled from Charizard's jaws, a concentrated spiral of dragon fire that cut through the air like a blade. It struck Magneton dead-center, ripping it from the air and smashing it into the bulkhead. The steel bent inward with the impact. Magneton didn't rise.
Five Pokémon. Five single strikes.
The hold went silent.
The grunts stared in horror. Their legs shook, commands lost before they even left their mouths. Surge's teeth clenched hard, his smirk finally gone, replaced by raw disbelief.
And Red—calm, unshaken—lowered his hand from the brim of his cap. His eyes glowed bright beneath the shadow, unwavering.
Surge clicked his tongue. "Tch… this kid…"
He jerked his head, and the grunts scrambled. Retreat. Their footsteps echoed as they bolted for the stairwell.
But Red wasn't letting them go.
"Pikachu."
The mouse burst from its ball in a flash of light, sparks already dancing from its cheeks. With a sharp commandless motion from Red, Pikachu darted forward, releasing arcs of thunder that struck Surge and his men square in the backs.
The three collapsed in heaps, twitching, unconscious.
Silence fell again, broken only by the hum of the ship and the faint cries of trapped Pokémon from the crates.
Red recalled Charizard, his expression never changing. Then he moved to the nearest crate, smashing its lock with one clean strike of his heel. Inside, Poké Balls tumbled out, popping open to release frightened, weak-eyed Pokémon.
One by one, Red opened every crate, freeing dozens—no, hundreds—of stolen partners. The air filled with their cries, some joyful, some weak, but all finally free.
By the time the police stormed the S.S. Anne, Red was already walking away, Pikachu padding by his side. The members of the ship were dragged off in cuffs, but their leader Lt. Surge was nowhere to be found. He had vanished like smoke, leaving only the memory of his defeat.
The Pokémon Club president found Red outside the ship. His eyes were wide with relief.
"You… you saved them all…" he said, his voice trembling. Then it faltered, lowering in guilt. "I'm sorry. I gave up when I should've never stopped believing. Thank you for proving me wrong."
He pulled out a Poké Ball. "I… wanted to see my Abra again."
But before he could press the button, the ball flashed. The figure that emerged wasn't Abra. It was taller, sharper an Alakazam, spoons glinting in its hands, psychic power radiating like a storm.
The president gasped, nearly dropping the ball. "But… but I never wanted it to evolve…"
The Alakazam simply looked at him, eyes filled with wisdom far beyond Abra's innocence.
Red, quiet as ever, simply watched. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The bond between trainer and Pokémon was already clear.
And just like that, the mystery of the stolen Pokémon was closed.
The next day, Red continued his journey.
---
The morning sun shimmered over the coastline as Red left Vermilion City behind. Red's focus never wavered. His eyes stayed sharp, his expression steady.
The S.S. Anne was over, but not finished. Surge had escaped. That shadow would linger but Red had no intention of slowing down. His path stretched forward, each step steady, Pikachu perched on his shoulder, tail swaying in rhythm with his stride.
---
The route north twisted through grassy fields, tall enough to brush against Red's hands as he walked. Pokémon rustled through the green sea. Red paused, scanning carefully. His eyes narrowed as a faint metallic hum echoed nearby.
From the grass, a Magnemite floated up, its single eye narrowing as the magnets on its side spun with a metallic hum.
Red's gaze flicked to Pikachu. "Quick attack. Keep it clean."
Pikachu darted forward in a yellow blur, its paws striking the ground with speed before slamming into Magnemite's side. The force knocked the steel sphere off balance, sending it wobbling in the air with a dull clang.
Red didn't hesitate. His hand moved fast, plucking a Poké Ball from his belt. In one smooth motion, he hurled it at the staggering target.
Then Click.
Not long after, deeper into the forest, a strange figure with a spiraled trunk-like nose waddled into his path: Drowzee. The Pokémon's eyes glowed faintly, attempting to lull Red into sleep with psychic waves.
But Red wasn't the one who needed to resist.
"Pidgeotto—Gust."
Wind tore through the trees, scattering leaves, blasting Drowzee back. It staggered, barely standing. Red hurled another ball. The capture was clean.
Later that afternoon, on the dry sand near a riverbank, he found a Sandshrew digging into the dirt, spinning rapidly into a ball as it searched for food. Red didn't waste time.
"Ivysaur, Vine Whip."
The vines lashed out, pinning the Sandshrew mid-roll. With a sharp flick of Red's wrist, the Poké Ball flew. Another catch secured.
Each time, the moment the Poké Ball locked, they shimmered in a flash of light then transported instantly back to Professor Oak's lab. Red exhaled through his nose. His roster was growing stronger.
---
The days that followed were filled with battles against wild Pokémon. Red was relentless.
Pidgeotto darted through skies, whipping through flocks of Spearow with razor winds. Poliwag's water pulses grew stronger against the rushing streams, its round body bobbing with confidence. Pikachu sparred tirelessly, thunder sparking brighter each day.
But it was Bulbasaur no, Ivysaur that stole the moment.
One dusk, on a rocky field glowing orange from the setting sun, Ivysaur stood against a wild Nidorino. The two clashed fiercely Nidorino's horn gleaming, Ivysaur's vines slashing.
"Sleep Powder," Red commanded.
Green dust billowed out, settling over the field. Nidorino slowed, stumbled, and collapsed in sleep.
But Ivysaur wasn't done. Its body glowed suddenly, the flower bulb on its back expanding, petals spreading wider as power surged through it. Red's eyes sharpened.
The light broke, and standing there was Ivysaur strong and its presence more commanding than ever.
It roared, testing its new strength, vines cracking rocks as if they were nothing.
Red allowed the faintest exhale, almost a smile. Another step forward.
---
A few days later, Red stumbled onto a crowded path outside Celadon's outskirts. The road was lined with bikers, trainers, and spectators shouting over one another. At the center, banners flapped: "Cross-Country Bike Race Grand Prize: 10,000 Pokédollars and Pokémon Supplies!"
Red paused. Ten thousand. Supplies. A quick calculation clicked in his mind. He stepped forward, registering without a word.
The crowd didn't know his name—but by the time the race began, they would.
The whistle shrieked, and the racers surged forward. Red's legs pumped the pedals hard, his eyes narrowed. Others laughed, jeered, elbowed—but Red never glanced their way. His focus was pure forward momentum.
The track cut through forests, bridges, and rocky plains. Red's position rose quickly, his movements efficient, minimal, ruthless.
But efficiency alone wasn't enough. The racers ahead blocked paths, shouting challenges.
"Pikachu."
The mouse leapt onto the handlebars, cheeks sparking.
"Clear the path."
A burst of lightning scattered the bug Pokémon swarming the forest path, clearing the air. Red pedaled through untouched.
"Ivysaur," Red commanded, releasing it mid-ride. "Razor Leaf."
The evolved Pokémon sliced through thick undergrowth, cutting a straight tunnel where the others had to weave and stumble.
Red's lead grew. The crowd roared from checkpoints as he passed.
But at the bridge—the final stretch—everything stopped.
A mountain of flesh blocked the way. A colossal Snorlax, belly rising and falling, snored so loud it shook the planks beneath Red's tires. The other racers screeched to halts, shouting in panic. None dared approach.
Red's cap shadowed his eyes. "Charizard."
The dragon burst from its ball, roaring.
"Mega Punch."
Charizard's fist glowed, slamming into Snorlax's jaw with a force that echoed like thunder. The giant stirred, grunted—and then collapsed deeper into sleep, knocked out cold.
Red didn't waste the moment. A Poké Ball flew. It rocked once. Twice. Then clicked.
The racers still stared in awe as Red pedaled across the now-clear bridge, crossing the finish line alone.
The announcer's voice cracked in disbelief: "Winner—Red!"
The crowd erupted. Red simply caught the prize pouch tossed his way: 10,000 Pokédollars and crates of high-quality Pokémon food.
He sent most of it back home to Pallet, to Oak's care. Supplies meant nothing if they slowed him down.
All that mattered was momentum.
---
The road stretched on. Cities blurred behind him, towns gave way to fields, fields to mist. Red's victories piled higher, but his eyes stayed the same: sharp, fiery, unbroken.
Everything seemed to be going fine. Until Lavender Town.
The clouds gathered heavy as he approached the mountain pass. Rain lashed down, soaking the dirt roads into mud.
Lavender's silhouette loomed ahead spires of the Pokémon Tower stabbing into the stormy sky. Thunder rolled.
Something in the air shifted.
The closer he came, the quieter the world grew.
---
The storm didn't let up. By the time Red stepped into Lavender Town, rain sheeted down the rooftops like rivers. His jacket clung to him, water dripping from the brim of his cap.
Lavender was small, but not in the way Pallet was small. Pallet had been warm, alive, its soil rich with green. Lavender was silent, cold, its streets empty except for scattered lanterns flickering in the rain. Every house was shuttered, every window closed tight.
Pikachu twitched uneasily on Red's shoulder, ears flicking at the muffled sound of thunder rolling beyond the mountains.
Red tried speaking to a passing man "Where's the Pokémon Center?" but the man's eyes slid past him, face set in stone, and he walked on without a word. Red frowned faintly. Another civillian passed; same result.
He realized quickly: it wasn't just rudeness. It was fear.
The entire town carried itself like prey animals sensing a predator. Heads down, eyes averted, voices hushed even indoors. Something weighed heavy here, and Red could feel it pressing against his chest like damp air.
---
By chance, at the far end of the graveyard path, Red spotted an old man kneeling before a gravestone. The stone was simple, etched with a name and nothing more. Rain soaked the man's thin coat, his trembling hand brushing the surface.
Red paused, his footsteps crunching softly on wet gravel. The old man looked up, his eyes worn but gentle.
"Young man," he said quietly, "are you here… to pay respects as well?"
Red's expression didn't shift, but after a moment he inclined his head. "…Yes."
The old man's lips curled faintly, touched by surprise. He turned back to the tombstone. "This was my Doduo. Faithful partner for twenty years. Strong legs, stronger heart. Age took him last spring."
Red stood in silence, his gaze on the tombstone. He didn't kneel, didn't speak yet the weight in his presence carried respect all the same, whiskers twitching solemnly.
The old man's eyes glistened. "Most young trainers don't stop here. They don't understand what it means to… lose."
Red bowed his head slightly to the tombstone silent but with respect.
The man blinked in surprise, then managed a faint smile. "You're… different." He pushed himself to his feet, leaning on a cane. "Come. You shouldn't stand in this rain. Join me for tea."
---
Inside the man's home, the air was warm, filled with the scent of herbal tea. The walls were lined with faded photographs: a younger man with his Doduo, grinning after battles; trophies on dusty shelves; friends long gone.
The man poured tea with steady hands, though his voice trembled with age.
"You've seen the tower, haven't you? Impossible to miss. It watches this town like a shadow."
Red didn't answer, but his eyes flicked toward the window. Outside, the silhouette of the Pokémon Tower loomed against the storm, each level swallowed by mist.
The old man continued, his voice lower now. "It is a place to honor those who've passed. But… no one buries their Pokémon there anymore. Not for years."
"Why?" Red asked, his tone clipped, direct.
The man's hand paused mid-pour. "…Because it is haunted."
The word hung in the air like smoke.
"They say a spirit lingers—wild, wrathful. Those who enter at night… do not return. Even by day, the tower chills the soul. This town has lived under that shadow so long, we have grown suspicious of each other. Fear eats away at trust."
Red's eyes narrowed, absorbing every word. His mind turned—ghosts weren't something he had seen yet in this world, but he didn't dismiss it. Not when the fear was written into every villager's face.
The old man sighed, setting down his cup. "I only wish my Doduo could rest there properly. But… I cannot risk its spirit being disturbed. So I keep him here, at my side, in memory."
---
The conversation shifted as the old man reminisced. He reached into a small wooden box on the table, pulling out a stack of worn photographs. His hands trembled slightly as he laid them out, one by one, pointing to Doduo's younger days its first race, the victories it had earned, the friends it had run alongside.
Red's gaze moved over each picture in silence, until one particular photograph.
A familiar face.
Blue.
He stood in the background of the photo, arms in pocket, his expression steady and serious.
Red's brow lifted slightly. "…You know him?"
The old man blinked, then nodded slowly. "Ah… yes. That boy came through here, some weeks past. He was restless, driven. I told him the same things that I told you about the tower."
Red's eyes narrowed, steady. "…And?"
"He went in." The man's gaze dimmed. "But he never returned. Nor has anyone else, not in recent months."
The room fell silent. Rain hammered against the roof, thunder rolling closer.
Red's eyes stayed fixed on the photograph, then shifted to the looming tower beyond the window.
Blue gone? Missing? That wasn't the Blue he knew. That rival would never fall quietly.
Which meant only one thing.
Something was inside that tower. Something that didn't want to be found.
Red set his cup down, the porcelain clinking against the table. "I'll go."
The old man's eyes widened. "Young man, you don't understand. Many—"
But Red was already standing. His gaze never left the tower outside, shrouded in storm.
Lightning lit the window, illuminating the shadow of the Pokémon Tower like a jagged scar across the sky.
Red pulled his cap lower over his eyes, his fiery stare never wavering.
The next step of his journey was clear.
He would enter the tower.
---