Pokemon : An Unexpected Journey

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The room was still, the tension palpable, as Austin reached into his bag and pulled out a strange Pokéball. Its purple top gleamed under the light, the letter 'M' engraved prominently on it.

"What is that?" Yellow asked, her curiosity piqued.

Austin held the Pokéball with a gravity that belied its size. "This," he said, "is the Masterball."

Green and Bill exchanged a look of disbelief, while Yellow's confusion deepened. Austin continued, "Silph Co was secretly developing it with illegal funds from Team Rocket. They wanted a ball with a 100% catch rate, one that could also alter the mind of any captured Pokémon to ensure absolute loyalty."

"100% catch rate?" Green echoed in astonishment. "Even the most advanced Ultra Balls only have a fifty percent success rate on wild and dangerous Pokémon."

Austin nodded solemnly. "But Team Rocket... Giovanni planned to use this Masterball on Mewtwo. With its mind-altering capabilities, Mewtwo would become unconditionally loyal to him." A chill ran through everyone as the implication of such power sunk in.

Bill, with a noticeable gulp, ventured, "Why are you telling us this, Austin?"

Looking up, Austin's expression was serious. 

Austin casually rolled the Masterball back and forth in his palm, its purple top catching the light with every movement. The room was silent, all eyes fixed on the small sphere that seemed to hold immense power.

"You know," Austin began, his voice steady but tinged with an edge, "about a month ago, I had a little chat with the CEO of Silph Co." He stopped rolling the ball and held it up, eyeing it intently. "Turns out, he was more than willing to show me some of their... less public projects."

Green raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "And?"

"And," Austin continued, a smirk playing on his lips, "I got him to spill the beans on this baby." He gave the Masterball a gentle toss before catching it again. "Did a bit of housecleaning afterwards. Wiped out the entire project, erased every shred of evidence."

Yellow's eyes widened. "You mean..."

Austin nodded, his gaze intense. "Yep. Outside this room, this Masterball doesn't exist. It's our little secret."

As he spoke, he continued to play with the Masterball, flipping it with an ease that belied the gravity of the situation. The room remained silent, each person contemplating the significance of Austin's revelation and the power literally at his fingertips.

"That's great and all," Green interjected, "but why are you telling us?"

Austin fixed his gaze on Bill. "It's incomplete. I want you to complete it."

Bill's eyes widened. "You want to use this thing?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Austin's eyes glowed with a red intensity. "Yes. And when I do, I need people around who would stop me if I ever got drunk on power."

Green and Yellow exchanged glances, the weight of Austin's request settling in.

The room was silent for a moment before Bill asked, "What are you planning to use it on?"

Austin paused, his gaze sweeping over his friends. 

"Mewtwo."

[ Author Note: Comment down your thoughts, was it a shock ? Were you expecting it ? What did you think Austin was going to say ? ]

•••••••••••••••••

Lance stood outside the towering structure, his gaze fixed on the horizon. As a sleek car rolled up to the curb, its engine humming softly, he straightened up. The door opened, and out stepped Steven Stone, his expression lined with concern.

"Problems?" Lance asked, eyeing Steven's troubled demeanor.

Steven ran a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping his lips. "It's Silph Co. My uncle's pressuring me to acquire the company."

Lance nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Silph Co, huh? Once a titan in the tech industry."

Steven snorted, a hint of cynicism in his voice. "Once, the key word. By tomorrow, their stocks are going to plummet. It's practically a toxic asset now, given the scandal they're mired in."

Lance raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "You mean the Team Rocket fiasco?"

"Exactly," Steven replied, his frustration evident. "Their under-the-table dealings with Team Rocket are no longer just industry whispers. It's a PR nightmare. The company's valuation is tanking, and their market credibility is shot."

Lance leaned against the building, his arms crossed. "So, are you considering buying them out? Diversify your portfolio, maybe leverage their R&D?"

Steven paused, his gaze distant. "I don't know. It's a high-risk move. On one hand, there's potential for a turnaround, rebranding... but on the other, it could be a sinkhole."

"Why did you ask me here, Lance?" Steven inquired, shifting the topic.

Lance's eyes gleamed with a hint of intrigue. "Follow me. There's more to this than just business strategy." He turned, beckoning Steven to join him, leading him towards a deeper intrigue that lay within the walls of the giant building.

Steven Stone followed Lance through the imposing doors of the building, his eyes scanning the sterile environment. The glass windows offered glimpses into rooms where scientists and doctors worked diligently. Massive creatures lay on tables, unlike anything Steven had ever seen.

"What are these?" Steven couldn't help but ask, his gaze fixed on the grotesque forms.

"Did you read the files I sent you about Team Rocket's projects?" Lance's voice was grave.

Steven nodded. "Yeah, the Team Rocket projects."

"These," Lance gestured towards the giant corpses, "are what attacked Kanto."

Steven's eyes widened as he peered into the glass cells. Inside were human and Pokémon hybrids - some with scales and feathers in places where human skin should be, others with limbs twisted into unnatural shapes. His stomach churned at the sight.

"These are victims recovered from Team Rocket bases. Failed experiments," Lance explained, his voice laced with a hint of anger.

"Failed experiments? For what purpose?" Steven's voice was barely a whisper.

"Weapons," Lance replied succinctly.

They stopped in front of a glass cell where a woman sat alone, staring blankly at the wall. "Lance? Why is there a human in there?"

"That's Agent Duplica. She was a master at mimicry with her Ditto."

Steven's confusion deepened. "But why is she here?" His question trailed off as Duplica turned towards them. Half of her face was a purplish goo, melting and reforming. Steven flinched at the sight.

"A victim?" Steven barely managed to ask.

"Yes. She was found in a chemical vat, her corpse fused with Ditto."

"C-corpse?" Steven's voice faltered as he saw Duplica smile.

"Yes. She was dead before the experiment. But somehow, she's been reanimated."

Steven struggled to comprehend. "So, is she... human?"

"We don't know. She can speak, interact. She even provided some information about Duplica."

"That's good, right?" Steven clung to a sliver of hope.

Lance sighed. "We're not sure if it's Duplica speaking, or something else. Some theorize it's a new entity, with no soul, just operating on Duplica's memories."

Steven was silent, absorbing the horror of it all.

"I want you to take custody of Duplica," Lance suddenly said.

Steven chuckled in disbelief. "I'm not a charity, Lance."

"This is an order from the league," Lance stated firmly.

"Why me?" Steven's frustration was evident.

"You're trusted by the league, and your biotech company could be crucial in understanding her condition."

"And what does the league expect me to do?"

"For now, just observe. We're unsure if euthanasia might be necessary." Lance checked his watch.

"You stay here. Professor Ivy will brief you further. I have to go."

"Where are you off to now?" Steven queried, his curiosity piqued despite the unsettling surroundings.

Lance turned, a half-smile playing on his lips. "Off to do champion things, unlike some people I know," he quipped, his tone light but edged with a challenge.

Steven's face broke into a half-smile, a hint of pride in his voice. "Hey, I'll have you know I was quite the champion in my day."

Lance glanced back over his shoulder, his expression a mix of amusement and sarcasm. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Steven." With that, he strode away, leaving Steven alone with his thoughts and the daunting task that lay ahead.

[Author Note: Eat your heart out Xavier_Gonzalez_2699, I added your idea of Duplica and Ditto fusing into the story]

••••••••••••••••••

[ The Pokemon League ]

The stage was set against the grandeur of the Pokémon League Headquarters, a testament to architecture and Pokémon prowess alike. Its intricate stonework shone like silver under the midday sun, sculptures of legendary Pokémon crafted with a masterful hand adorned its façade, each seemingly imbued with a life of its own. The building, a majestic sight, stood as a fortress against a sea of discontented voices.

A throng of people, an ocean of raw emotion, surrounded the headquarters. The voices of protest echoed off the buildings, their words painting pictures of fury and frustration. Placards bobbed above the crowd, bearing messages of defiance and demand: 

"Justice for Kanto!" 

"Johto Will Not Bow!" 

"Team Rocket Will Pay!" 

Their clothes were a vibrant mix of grassroots activism – hand-stitched patches bearing the symbols of their favorite Pokémon, pins of resistance, hand-painted banners of solidarity.

The media, a wave of hustle and bustle, were scattered throughout the crowd, their cameras and microphones at the ready, capturing every moment. 

A young reporter named Timothy maneuvered through the sea of people, his eyes landing on a woman named Marianne. Her hand clasped tightly around a placard reading "Justice for Johto," her face an epitome of defiance.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Timothy began, a microphone extended towards her. "Might I ask why you are here today?"

Marianne's emerald eyes met his, a fire burning bright within them. "For justice," she stated, her voice firm. "For our children, who live in fear because of Team Rocket's atrocities."

Timothy nodded, understanding her sentiment. He then took a more personal turn. "And you, ma'am? Have you been personally affected by these attacks?"

Marianne hesitated, but her resolve did not waver. "Every mother in Kanto and Johto has been personally affected, young man. When our children fear to venture out, when they can't trust in the safety of their homes, we're all affected."

Despite the crowd, the cameras, and the pressure, Timothy asked one more question, one that crossed the boundary of professional and personal. "Does your son also live in fear, ma'am?"

There was a gasp from the crowd around them, and Marianne's grip on her placard tightened. She stared at Timothy, her eyes welling up with emotion. "My son... Asher... he did. But he's no longer with us." Her voice cracked at the end, but she held her head high, her tears a testament to her strength.

The crowd around them fell into an awed hush. In that moment, Marianne was no longer just a protester; she was a symbol of the personal pain and collective suffering that the people of Kanto and Johto had endured. 

Suddenly, a hush fell over them. The reporters rose, their faces solemn as they turned towards the grand stage. Mr. Goodshow, the esteemed president of the Pokémon League, appeared, flanked by the stoic Lance and the formidable Elite Four. Their entrance was met with an electric mix of reverence and resistance.

The spotlight fell on Goodshow as he cleared his throat and began to address the crowd, his voice booming over the loudspeakers. "People of Kanto and Johto, I stand before you today, not as a figure of authority, but as a fellow citizen who shares your concerns, your fears, and your outrage." He paused, a charismatic leader skilled in the art of oratory, allowing his words to hang in the air.

Meanwhile, a curious reporter navigated through the crowd to a protester, a woman with fiery red hair and a look of determination on her face. 

"Can you tell us why you are here?" he asked, his question echoing through the speakers. He followed with more questions, some probing into her personal life, making the woman tense up.

Back on the stage, Goodshow continued, "We've been bruised, we've been battered, but we've not been broken. Team Rocket has been defeated!" His proclamation was met with an explosion of noise from the crowd. 

Suddenly, a cluster of protesters, their faces obscured by blank masks, lifted their voices in unison. "Ashura protected Kanto!" Their declaration resounded through the crowd, igniting a surge of agreement that swept across the sea of people.

In response, they pulled out their devices – smartphones, tablets – and held them aloft. Others hoisted murals, paintings, and images high above their heads, revealing a figure who had become synonymous with resistance: Ashura. The depiction showed a figure shrouded in black, a blank white mask hiding all but a pair of piercing red eyes.

Days prior, when Team Rocket's reign of terror had been abruptly halted, the online community had noticed an intriguing pattern. Mysterious mercenaries, Pokémon warriors of significant skill, seemed to be strategically placed to respond swiftly to the assaults. As these patterns were disseminated online, a surprising revelation came to light. The Mercenaries Guild released a statement saying that an anonymous individual had contracted their services, placing them in wait.

This information sparked a wildfire of speculation online. The world was suddenly consumed by a digital mystery, a who-dunnit on a global scale. Conspiracy theories sprang up like wildflowers. Some suggested that it was a rogue member of the Elite Four, others speculated it was a legendary Pokémon in human form, and some even pointed fingers at foreign governments.

Amidst this uproar, a data dump was released online. It spread across the internet like a virus, revealing the breadth and depth of Team Rocket's crimes. Money laundering, organ harvesting, corruption at the highest levels, their heinous deeds were laid bare for all to see. Prominent figures from the Pokémon League to the government were implicated, sending shockwaves throughout the world.

However, the question that kept the internet abuzz was the identity of the person who had unveiled these atrocities. Who was the masked figure? The online community rallied, sharing information and tips, working together to unmask the hero.

Finally, a breakthrough came when they traced the data dump back to an internet café. The CCTV footage was released, showing a figure clad in black, a blank white mask obscuring his face, his red eyes the only identifiable feature. The internet, in collective agreement, dubbed this figure Ashura - the Hero of Kanto.

Before the cacophony could crescendo, Lance stepped forward, his tall figure casting a long shadow. The crowd fell silent as his deep, commanding voice broke the quiet. "Enough!" he bellowed, his words ringing out, immediately silencing everyone. The tension hung in the air like a thundercloud, waiting for the storm to break.

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[ Omake Paragraph ] 

Every Cascoon remembers each injury they suffer in this helpless phase, and when they evolve, will return like a ghost to avenge these wounds tenfold. Yet despite this reputation, there are many who give them ample reason for vengeance. No wild pokemon has learned to avoid Cascoon, and a few particularly sadistic ones toss them out of trees, walk over them, or attempt in vain to crack their nigh-unbreakable shells.

A strange tradition in Hoenn assures people that they can not die if a living Cascoon holds a grudge against them, so the elderly march out into the forests whenever they fear death to abuse Cascoon; half die of Dustox venom before other causes can end their lives. Whoever first spread this rumor must have hated Cascoon even more than Cascoon hate their abusers, for he has wrought a vengeance upon them all more terrible than they can even dream. For a Dustox to hatch out of their Cascoon shell, they must both have suffered a wound, however slight, and grown powerful enough to avenge it. (Cascoon trainers send them to battle against weak wild pokemon so that they may evolve quickly and need not exert a brutal revenge.) Most Cascoon are wounded multiple times before evolution until they someday hatch to take their vengeance on each foe, starting with the strongest.

Yet even the most determined and powerful of these pokemon may find their efforts stymied and spend generations in this form, hurt yet unchanging, for the living may not harm the dead. They wait a terrible eon until the wheel of life turns and they find someone they think to be the reincarnation of their tormenter. This is why the most tortured and mutilated victims of Dustox are those who have never even stepped on a Cascoon.