The silence was the first thing I noticed. It wasn't the peaceful silence of the spa or the quiet hum of a laboratory; it was a heavy, pressurized tomb-like stillness that pressed against my eardrums. My lungs burned, a sharp, jagged reminder that I had nearly traded my life for the survival of Kanto's most reckless ten-year-old.
"Ash! Ash, wake up! Please!"
Misty's voice was high-pitched and frantic, echoing off the metallic walls of the cabin. I groaned, pushing myself up from the ceiling—which was now the floor. My emerald dress was a shredded, salt-crusted rag, and my hair felt like a nest of seaweed.
Ash gasped, sputtering out a mouthful of seawater as Pikachu frantically patted his cheeks. He sat up, dazed, blinking at the surreal sight of a luxury cabin turned inside out.
"Wha... what happened? Where are we?" Ash asked, rubbing his head.
Misty didn't answer. She just pointed toward the porthole. We all crawled toward the thick glass, peering out into the abyss. Outside, the world was a murky, twilight blue. Small, bioluminescent fish darted past the window, their light flickering against the jagged edges of a deep-sea trench.
"The ship..." Brock whispered, his voice trembling. "It's upside-down. We're perched on a seamount right at the edge of a trench. If the ship shifts just a few inches..."
"We're in a watery grave," I finished, my voice like cold iron.
Ash looked at me, then at the upside-down furniture, and finally at the fish. He let out a nervous, high-pitched chuckle that grated on my raw nerves. "Hey, Regina... I know things look a little... wet? But hey, we're alive! And I got the ball! I'm still your favorite friend, aren't I? You wouldn't let your favorite friend drown, right?"
The fury that erupted in my chest was so intense I thought I might actually evolve into a Magmar. I reached for the Pokéball at the small of my back—the one I had kept hidden from the "official" world.
"Favorite. Friend." I hissed the words out like venom. "Ash Ketchum, because of your 'sentimental souvenir,' we are currently three hundred feet below the surface in a sinking coffin."
I clicked the ball. In a flash of crimson light, Fearow appeared.
"Fearow," I said, my eyes burning with a violet light. "Remember our deal? I told you that if the kid who hit you ever put us in a life-threatening situation due to his own stupidity, your 'Revenge Protocol' would be authorized."
Fearow let out a low, dark chuckle—a rasping, predatory sound that made the feathers on his neck bristle. He turned his sharp, hooked beak toward Ash and Pikachu. His eyes were cold, calculating, and filled with a year's worth of stored-up spite.
Ash and Pikachu let out a synchronized, blood-curdling scream. They scrambled backward, hitting the upside-down dresser.
"REGINA, NO! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! PIKACHU, DO SOMETHING!" Ash wailed, shielding his face. Pikachu was vibrating so hard he was sparking, but his ears were pinned back in pure terror. "I'm sorry! I'll give you my hat! Just keep that thing away from me!"
Fearow took a slow, deliberate step forward, his talons clicking against the metal ceiling. He opened his beak, a low-frequency hiss vibrating in the humid air.
"Please! Regina, save me! I'm too young to be pecked to death in a submarine!" Ash begged, tears streaming down his face.
"Now is not the time, Regina."
The voice was like a cold splash of water. Alain was standing by the door, his suit jacket discarded, his blue scarf the only spot of color in the dim room. He looked at me with a level of disappointment that hit harder than a Hyper Beam.
I exhaled a long, shaky breath, the red mist of my fury slowly receding. I clicked the ball, and Fearow disappeared with one final, mocking caw. Ash slumped against the wall, his chest heaving.
"By the way..." Ash wheezed, looking at the brooding man in the scarf. "Who is he, Regina? And why is his Charizard so... scary?"
The silence that followed was absolute. Ash's mouth fell open. Misty's eyes went wide, and even Brock forgot to look for a nearby Nurse Joy.
Misty and Brock leaned in, Misty suddenly becoming very busy smoothing her hair and trying to hide a visible blush. Alain was, undeniably, the most handsome man she'd ever seen in a suit—even a damp one.
"Ash, Misty, Brock," I said, my voice returning to its clinical G-Pro neutrality. "Meet Alain. He is the current Champion of the Kalos region and a Senior Operative for the G-Pro international division. He is the reason we aren't currently shark bait."
"CHAMPION?!" The trio screamed in unison.
"A... a Champion?" Ash whispered, his eyes suddenly sparkling with an unadulterated, starry-eyed admiration. "A real Champion? From another region?"
Brock bowed so low his head nearly touched the water. "An honor, sir! A true honor!"
Misty just squeaked, her face turning the color of a Magmag. "K-Kalos? That's so far away! You must be... very talented."
Alain didn't acknowledge the praise. He turned his gaze toward Ash, his expression turning cold and sharp. "You realize everyone on this ship is in this situation because of your incompetence, right? You chased a ball into a sinking hull. You compromised a G-Pro mission for a piece of plastic."
Ash flinched as if he'd been slapped. He opened his mouth to refute it, to say it was an accident, but Alain's stare silenced him. Ash looked down at his boots, his face flushing with genuine shame.
"Let it go, Alain," I said, stepping between them. I looked at Ash, and despite my anger, I saw the kid who had stood up to a whole room of Rocket grunts. "He was the one who encouraged the civilians to fight. Without his loud mouth, half of those people would have frozen in fear and never made it to the boats. Besides..." I looked at the Butterfree Pokéball clutched in Ash's hand. "It was the Butterfree ball. You know the rules of this world—Pokémon can't survive far from their tethers for long in extreme conditions. If Ash hadn't retrieved it, that Butterfree would have died when the ship snapped. He chose a life over his own safety."
Alain blinked, his icy demeanor softening by a fraction of a millimeter. He looked at the Pokéball, then back at Ash. He didn't apologize—Champions rarely do—but he gave a sharp, single nod of acknowledgement.
Ash looked up, his eyes bright with a mix of relief and gratitude. "Regina... thanks."
"Don't thank me," I muttered. "Just don't do it again. There are many that worry for you idiot, for your safety, just don't do anything reckless."
Ash just nodded genuinely feeling sorry.
I checked my belt and felt a sudden, sinking realization. "Fuck. In the chaos... I forgot to bring a Water-type for my utility slot. I was so focused on the Ice-type for structural repairs..."
I looked at the rising water in the hallway outside. "I can't scout the lower decks."
Alain looked at me, his expression softening by a fraction of a degree. "Do not worry, Regina. I have two Water-types in my secondary rotation. I factored in the maritime environment before we boarded."
I sighed, a mix of relief and professional embarrassment. "I apologize, Alain. My situational awareness lapsed. That's a rookie mistake. It won't happen again."
Alain looked at me, and for the first time, his voice wasn't cold. It was grounded. "Even the best researchers overlook the obvious when they're busy being heroes, Regina. You saved lives. I'll handle the water."
---
### The Descent into the Deep
We headed out into the stairwell, the world tilted at a nauseating angle. The water level had already claimed the lower half of the stairs, a dark, shimmering mirror that hid the debris below.
"The water is too high," Misty noted, her eyes scanning the surface with the precision of a gym leader. "The pressure will prevent the doors to the main deck from opening. We're trapped in the 'bubble' of the upper cabins."
"I'll dive down," Ash said, already kicking off his shoes. "I can see if there's a way through the lower hatches."
"Don't be a fool," Brock barked, grabbing Ash's collar. "The current inside a sinking ship is unpredictable. You'll get sucked into a pipe or trapped behind a shifting door."
Misty reached for a Pokéball. "Goldeen, I need your eyes! Go down and find us a path!"
The elegant goldfish appeared with a splash, its horn glowing faintly. It dived into the dark water, vanishing into the shadows of the stairwell. We waited in the suffocating heat, the sound of the ship's groaning hull acting as a countdown timer.
Minutes felt like hours. Then, the water surface broke. But it wasn't Goldeen.
A head popped out of the water, gasping for air. It was followed by a second.
"GAAAH! GHOSTS!" Ash screamed, jumping into Brock's arms.
"It's not ghosts, you idiot," I muttered, recognizing the blue hair and the dramatic flair even in a near-death state. "It's the rejects."
Jessie and James hauled themselves onto the dry part of the stairs, followed by a Meowth that looked like a drowned rat. They were blue in the face, their skin puckered from the cold. Goldeen followed behind them, nudging them upward with its nose.
"We... live!" Jessie wheezed, collapsing onto the carpet.
"The... the treasure..." James gasped, clutching a soggy rose. "All gone..."
The moment they caught their breath, the "Team Rocket" instinct overrode their survival instinct. They scrambled to their feet, striking a pose that was significantly less impressive while dripping wet.
"Prepare for trouble!"
"And make it double!"
"Team rocket"
Jessie scrambled to her feet, her red hair wild. "You! It's your fault we're in this mess!"
"Our fault?!" Misty yelled. "You're the ones who tried to steal the ship!"
"Details, details!" James wheezed, shaking his head. "Ekans, out! Koffing, out! We're going down, but we're taking you with us!"
Ash and Brock didn't hesitate. "Charmander! Squirtle! Bulbasaur! Geodude! Battle stations!"
The narrow stairwell was suddenly crowded with six Pokémon, all growling and sparking. The tension was a powder keg ready to blow.
"Wait! STOP!" I yelled, but my voice was drowned out by a sudden, violent *thurch*.
The ship lurched. The fifteen-degree tilt became a thirty-degree slide. We all went tumbling toward the rising water. The S.S. Anne gave a terrifying, metallic shriek as it began to slip off the seamount toward the trench.
"RECALL YOUR POKÉMON!" Alain's voice boomed, cutting through the chaos like a thunderclap. He was braced against a railing, his eyes burning with a command that brooked no argument. "Unless you want to die in this stairwell, put them away NOW! The weight shift is destabilizing the air pocket!"
Ash and the others, conditioned by the sheer authority in Alain's voice, instantly withdrew their Pokémon. Jessie and James froze, their Pokéballs halfway to their belts.
"I said... RECALL," Alain repeated, his hand hovering over a Pokéball that radiated a level of power the Rockets had never encountered.
They scrambled to obey, the Ekans and Koffing vanishing in flashes of red light.
I wiped the salt from my eyes and looked at the shivering, pathetic trio from Team Rocket. "Listen to me," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "The ship is sliding into a two-thousand-meter trench. We have one chance to get out of here, and it involves working together. I am calling a truce. Now."
Jessie puffed out her chest, her pride still clinging to her like wet silk. "And who are you to tell us—"
She stopped. James had grabbed her arm, his face pale as a sheet. He was staring at Alain.
"Jessie... look at his pin," James whispered, pointing to the subtle G-Pro/Champion insignia on Alain's belt. "That's the crest of the Kalos Champion. And that terminal... he's G-Pro High-Command."
The entire Rocket trio went perfectly still. The bravado vanished, replaced by a raw, primal fear. To a low-level grunt, an Elite Four member is a myth, but a Champion is a force of nature—a being that can dismantle an entire syndicate cell without breaking a sweat. The one with the authority of the police, the power of politician, and the pokemon whose power belonging to legends.
"C... Champion?" Meowth squeaked, hiding behind James's leg.
They nodded in perfect, terrified unison.
"A truce," Jessie squeaked, her voice two octaves higher than usual. "A truce is... a very professional necesarry decision. We agree."