Full Summary:

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When both Red and Green receive strange messages requesting their presence at the Pokemon League by their former enemy, Lance of the Elite Four, they begin to realize that their home region of Kanto may be in danger of being… corrupted. A Missingno. Fic.

About this Fanfiction:

Series: Pokemon (game and Pokemon Special manga verse)

Pairings: None (as of yet – may contain eventual RedxGreen "Originalshipping")

Setting: Kanto (one year after the Pokemon Emerald arc of Pokemon Special)

MY COVER ART FOR THIS FANFICTION: .com/art/Corrupted-175512347


Chapter 1 - Anxiety

Running. He was running, although to where he didn't know. Thick bushes, shrubs and tall grasses scraped at his exposed skin and tore new holes in his already ruined jeans as he proceeded. Slowing his pace slightly in order to clamber onto a small, rocky plateau jetting up through the undergrowth, he first steadied himself and then began to take deep, voracious breaths; trying frantically to calm his pounding heart as he craned his neck in order to see above some of the tinier trees. Continuing to pant heavily as he skimmed his surroundings from the elevated vantage point, his heart leapt when his eyes roved over what he believed to be a roof – a building! The rusted, red paneling beckoned to him, and he was sure that he must make his way to this building, although he did not know why. Sparing a tender glance down at a mess of machinery cradled in his arms, he spoke softly:

"We're almost there, just hold on a little longer."

With that, he was off again, not bothering to climb back down the rugged mound on which he stood. Instead, he simply jumped, feeling his dirty sneakers make contact with the ground below and, kicking up a storm of russet-coloured dust behind him, he sprinted off in the direction of the old, red sanctuary, still holding the jumble of mechanical parts protectively in his arms.

As he ran, the vegetation thankfully became less and less dense; sparing him further lacerations to his already marred skin and clothing. The trees thinned and the bushes became smaller and farther apart until a stretching field of powdery sand, not unlike the rocky plateau in colour, lay before him, small tufts of off-green grass the only contrast to the tan desert. Except of course, his eyes snapped suddenly to the left as they caught a flash of red, the building.

It was right there – right in front of him, peaking out from behind an immense, stony hill just a little more than a few hundred feet away.

Letting out an excited whoop, which cracked as it escaped his throat due to exhaustion mixed with dehydration, he increased his pace. One hundred feet away, seventy-five feet away, fifty feet away – he was almost there when something emerging from the dust to his right caught his eye.

Forgetting his mission for the moment, his run slowed to a jog and he eventually came to a complete stop, turning to stare open-mouthed at the form of an enormous Rhydon materializing from underneath a great mass of sand – dust flying into the atmosphere around it as it shook its incredibly large head free of the offending grains. It turned its huge, armored body to stare directly at him, its eyes completely expressionless.

He did not know what frightened him more, the size of the massive Rhydon or the fact that the beast betrayed absolutely no emotion. The pile of scrap-metal shuddered in his arms, as if sensing the ominous presence of the dual-type Pokemon.

It was standing stalk still, it's lackluster, red eyes half lidded as it continued to stare. Stretched out behind the monster was the vast hill that began on one end of the sandy desert and seemed to end near the red building.

The building! He snapped back to attention and made to resume walking, but something in those blood-red eyes caused him to quiver; as if turning his back on those eyes was not the smartest of ideas. Quite suddenly from somewhere within one of the rare patches of dying grass growing against the base of the stony hill, came a loud, earsplitting cry – the likes of which did not sound as if any living creature could produce, as it was almost like the beeping of a machine, and seconds later a Kangaskhan trampled its way out of the brush and onto the reddish sand to stand directly beside the Rhydon, which did not so much as glance at the desert's new occupant. Instead, the large, red-eyed Pokemon continued to stare unblinkingly - directly in his direction.

While the offending Kangaskahn was relatively average in size, unlike the colossal Rhydon next to it, it was certainly far from ordinary. It's cold, black, piercing eyes bore into his flesh, and he could feel an air of malevolence radiating out from under its bronze hide. The heap of metal in his arms gave another jerk and let out a tiny squeak, supposedly in discomfort or fear. This creature was completely different from any Pokemon he'd ever seen – his perception of the Kangaskhan species being motherly and protective in nature was shattered as he took a closer look at the Pokemon and realized that there was no infant hidden within the warmth of its large pouch.

"Come with us."

For one brief moment, his heart stopped and his blood turned to ice in his veins. The gigantic Rhydon had opened its dagger-filled mouth and spoken – in plain English – though the creature's eyes never lost their blankness and it remained as still as a post.

Immediately, he began to spin around on the spot, searching for anyone else – a human perhaps - that could have addressed him in place of the steely-grey goliath in front of him. Finding himself to be quite alone, save for the broken machinery in his arms, and the two eerie creatures a few yards away, he swallowed a lump of fear in his throat and turned back around to face the pair once more.

"M-me?" He sounded rather pathetic, the question escaping his lips as a squeak.

The Rhydon opened its jagged mouth and spoke again, however, this time, his attention traveled to the Kangaskhan which, despite remaining silent, emanated an air of authority and importance as it twisted its jaws into a grizzly smile; almost as if the bronze-coloured Pokemon was the face to Rhydon's voice – the expression and emotion that would normally accompany a spoken phrase.

"Come with us if you wish to prove that you are worthy."

The Rhydon's chillingly monotonous voice was coupled with an overly theatrical and daunting look from the Kangaskhan. He might have found their actions to be comical if stares from the two sets of intimidating coal-black and depthless blood-red eyes hadn't caused his entire body to shiver.

"Don't do it!"

The sudden squawk that resounded from his arms nearly made him drop the fragile bundle of metal that he had unconsciously been clutching very tightly to his chest. Astonished, he glanced down at the tiny, broken robot that had perhaps once resembled a Pidgy, but was now too mangled to tell.

"You're supposed to be resting." He said, regaining a little of his composure.

The Pidgybot gazed unfocusedly up at him, yet its voice was urgent.

"You can not go with them." The robot said sternly, not indicating it had even heard him speak.

"Why not?" He demanded, fear beginning to creep into his tone, "What's wrong?"

The robot merely stared back at him with glassy eyes; soft clicks issuing from parts if its mechanical interior.

"Hey! Hey!" He yelled, shaking the broken bird.

It did not respond.

"Come." The Rhydon instructed once more and the Kangaskhan motioned with its head as if to say, 'follow'.

Curiosity eventually won out over his fear. Gritting his teeth together forcefully, he murmured a quick apology to the broken Pidgybot in his arms, earning small, ghastly clicks in response and, shuddering, trudged after the two Pokemon through the sand, his original intention of seeking shelter in the rusted, red-roofed building forgotten.

He had expected the two strange Pokemon to lead him back into the hazardous brush, or far into the scorching desert – perhaps even motion for him to follow them into the treacherous looking lake in the distance. Instead, rather anti-climactically he thought, they walked less than thirty steps when the Kangaskhan paused directly in front of the rocky wall extending across the distance of the desert and held its arm out to stop its human tag-along.

He grunted and shot a slightly reproachful look at the Kangaskhan before cautiously backing away from the Pokemon's offending limb.

"We are here." Came Rhydon's cold, emotionless voice as Kangaskhan gestured meaningfully toward the stone expanse before them.

"Where's here?" He asked slowly, not entirely sure he was going to like the answer.

He felt completely vulnerable. Absently fingering his belt where there was usually a set of familiar Pokeballs, he felt nothing but rough fabric. Feeling rather defenseless and alone, he thought morosely of his mechanical companion, appalling noises still resounding from its parts. Where were his Pokemon anyway? Were they at the building? The red-roofed building? How he wished he could have just ignored the two terrifying Pokemon and carried on towards his original destination.

"This is…" Rhydon spoke interrupting his frenzied thoughts.

Looking up, he could see an eerie smile on Kangaskhan's menacing face, and if he hadn't had doubts about the two Pokemon before, he certainly did now.

Rhydon opened its wide mouth to finish speaking, and when it did, he was surprised to note that there was emotion – albeit only a small amount – in Rhydon's last word. He could be mistaken, but he thought he detected a hint of… reverence.


He barely had time to register what was happening as Kangaskhan slammed its fist into the solid wall of rock, sending shards of sandstone everywhere. Coughing and spluttering, he peered through the dust and squinted eyes to see an oppressive, black fog appearing from in between cracks in the stone that Kangaskhan had created with its bare paw. He gasped as the fog became thicker and thicker, breaking away pieces of the wall as it engulfed everything in its path.

Quite suddenly, there was a whirling motion and the fog began to spiral inwards towards the now gaping cavern, ripping up small shrubs, picking up dusty sand and swallowing them whole like an angry tornado.

He tried desperately to grab onto something – anything, but his vision was horribly limited in the flying sand, and all the anchoring plants or rocks that he grabbed a hold of were pulled into the ever widening abyss. Without anything left to grab onto, he, himself, was pulled towards the cavern, digging his nails into the sand in desperation as he felt the darkness begin to swallow him.

Then there was a peculiar flash of white, lined with jumbled numbers and pictures, as if a two year old had tried to jam two dissimilar puzzle pieces together. The images swirled around his head, making him feel quite sick and then, from the distance, he heard the same, ear-splitting cry – the cry of a cold, sterile machine that the Kangaskhan had emitted earlier before the rush of images stopped and he was once again shrouded in blackness. A monotonous voice carried through the silence.

"You do not know where she is. You are not worthy."


"'Yes, the Pewter City Museum of Science is beyond worthy of receiving a large portion of our fossil, sphere and coal collections as compensation for their amazing effort in helping our own Sinnoh researchers chart an underground pathway through the region!'"

Red awoke with a start. The clock-radio on the bedside table next to him blared irritatingly as he groaned and rolled over onto his stomach. His body was sore and ridged, as if he had been tensing his muscles in his sleep. Had he been dreaming? Why had Green programmed the clock's alarm to be so loud?

"'This colossal feat could not have been accomplished without the men and women of the Pewter Museum, and I feel an immense joy in knowing that our research team is not only paying them for their time and effort, but restoring some stability to their organization.'

A very excited Professor Berlitz told our Kanto Broadcasting Corporation correspondent when asked about the Pewter City Museum of Science's grand re-opening."

Why did he think his dream had had something to do with the Fuchsia City Safari Zone?

He soon gave up on trying to remember the contents of his dream, as he was sure it had been an unpleasant one, and he sank deeper into the covers of his tiny fold-out bed and began to listen absently to the radio.

"As many of our listeners will remember, eight years ago this coming January, the Pewter Museum of Science was the victim of a major theft involving the disappearance of two very important pieces. The well-preserved skeletal remains of both a Kabutops and an Aerodactyl, pre-historic Pokemon, were taken from the museum by means of forced entry. The museum suffered upwards of thirty-thousand dollars worth in damages as some of the other exhibits were harmed in the incident, as well as losing two of their most rare and popular pieces. With a large repair debt to pay and not much revenue being made because of the absence of their two most admired exhibits, the Pewter Museum was in financial trouble for years and eventually had to be closed down for an extended length of time when funding was at an all time low. While the two missing fossils were never found, police believe it to have been the work of Kanto's feared terrorist organization, Team Rocket, however, as the radical group is extremely allusive, often stepping in and out of the public spotlight, it makes it very difficult for police to track the organizations movements or bring its members to justice. Although it seems as though a ray of sunshine has shone through for the Pewter Museum at long last - the Oreburgh Mining Museum's 'Underground Pathway' Project has undoubtedly turned things around for both the Kanto Museum as well as its workers and, now, with sufficient funds and new pieces to display, the Pewter Museum will be re-opening to the public one week from today on September the fifth."

"Well, what'daya know about that?" Red mumbled into his pillow.

"When approached on the subject, Pewter City Gym Leader, Brock, had this to say:"

Red perked up instantly at the mention of his old friend's name, and was now listening intently.

"'I'm flattered to have been chosen to cut the ribbon on opening day. I have a lot of good memories going to that museum as a kid, and I was crushed when I heard that it had closed down all those years ago – but this issue goes beyond my personal feelings. I was under a lot of pressure as a gym leader back in those days because of my obligation to this town and the welfare of its people – when the museum closed down, a major drop in tourism to our city hit our local economy hard. Through hosting many additional fighting tournaments at the gym, we were able to get some tourist interest back, but with the re-opening of the Museum of Science, I'm confident that Pewter City will regain a strong economic independence. 'Hope to see you all there at the grand re-opening!'"

"Wow. I had no idea that Brock was under so much stress." Red switched positions and came to rest with his elbows propping him up; his face cupped in his hands."

"We here at the KBC hope you've enjoyed today's segment on the Pewter City Museum of Science. To purchase tickets for the grand re-opening, contact our box office at (881) 362-7836, extension 308. That number again is (881) 362-7836, extension 308. That's it for this hour. Thank you for listening. Stay tuned, your local news is ne—"

"Red!" The sound of Green's annoyed voice from the hallway drowned out the radio, "Get your lazy ass out of bed! You do want to eat before we have to go see Coppertop, don't you?"

Red sniggered to himself as he rolled out of bed, switched the clock-radio off just as he heard DJ Lily begin to play an intermission tune before the news, and, still dressed in his plaid, flannel pyjamas, sauntered out the door and down the narrow hallway towards the kitchen.

"Is that fold-out bed alright?" Green asked, looking up from his toast as Red entered the tiny kitchen and parked himself in a high, island chair across the counter from his companion. Red supposed that this was Green's way of asking 'how was your sleep', seeing as he had been asking Red the same question every morning for five days, ever since Red had arrived to stay at Green's loft apartment above the Viridian City Gym.

"It's fine." Red replied absentmindedly, scanning the small kitchenette for anything remotely resembling breakfast food. He was starving.

"I could make up the couch for you." Green said, in much the same way as he had for the past five mornings and, catching sight of Red's eyes darting around the room and droplets of drool starting to pool at the side of his mouth, he added, "I just ate the last of the bread, but there's cereal in the cupboard and there are some scrambled eggs in the frying pan." He elegantly plucked a few stray toast crumbs from his simple, white pyjama shirt and took a sip from his steaming mug of tea.


Red leapt up to the stove only to find a dubious mess of unappetizing, grey, rubbery looking eggs waiting for him in a stone-cold, cast-iron frying pan. Red was definitely not what you would call a picky eater, but he wondered for a moment if Green hadn't just grabbed some expired, leftover eggs from the fridge and thrown them into a frying pan in an attempt to appear as if he'd actually bothered to prepare breakfast. He was about to tell Green off for the slimy abomination that he had called 'scrambled eggs', when Red realized that he couldn't really talk – he was not the most skilled cook himself. In fact, he recalled an incident in which he'd accidentally given Pika food poisoning while traveling, and yet Red had managed to shovel the failed attempt at ramen down without too many ill effects. He guessed that stomaching your own cooking was easier to do than enduring someone else's.

"I think I'll have some cereal." Red announced, trying hard not to make a face as he crossed the cramped kitchen to the pantry and selected a slightly dusty box of cornflakes.

Thankfully, the sealed bag inside the cardboard box had not been opened and the cereal inside was relatively fresh. Reclaiming his seat next to the tall, kitchen island, he reached for the nearly empty milk carton in front of him and dumped the contents onto his cornflakes.

"Wha' time do we 'alf to be 'dere, again?" Red asked as he began scarfing down his cereal at a break-neck pace, bits of chewed flakes splattering over the table in front of him as he spoke.

Green grabbed a paper-napkin from a rack to his right and began to wipe his counter-top clean of mangled cornflake chunks and Red's saliva.

"Without splattering food all over my face please." Green's tone was sardonic; his mouth curved into a half frown.

"Sorry." Red swallowed the remainder of the food in his mouth and began to chew sheepishly under the scrutinizing glare of his host.

"Ginger told us to meet him at the League's front gate at ten o'clock, so we'll have to be out of here by no later than nine." Greens mood had turned foul at the mention of their morning appointment with the leader of the Elite Four, Lance.

Because of Green's hatred of the dragon tamer, Red had become accustomed to Green's never-ending flow of insults and nicknames designed especially for Lance. 'Coppertop', 'Ginger', 'Freckles'… Red could go on.

Green's immense dislike for Lance was not unfounded, however. Red himself was far from being on good terms with the dragon tamer and the rest of the Elite Four after being lured to their mountain base and maliciously encased in ice upon declining their invitation to join them. Red's wrist gave a pang and he nearly dropped his spoon as he recalled the frozen shackles. But no matter what had happened in the past, Red was determined for this meeting to go smoothly.

Lance, much to Red's surprise, had contacted him via messenger Dragonite just a little over two weeks ago and formally requested his and Green's presence at the League. Intrigued, Red immediately made arrangements to stay with Green – who had received a similar letter – until the agreed-upon date for the sake of convenience.

The room had descended into an awkward silence. Green swallowed one final gulp of tea before setting his mug down on the island counter a little harder than was necessary.

"We should get going soon." Green stood up, placed his dishes in the sink and, with his usual grace and style, swept quietly from the room.

Red was left staring at his half eaten cereal. The unasked question that had hung between the two Pokedex owners for nearly a week forcefully pressed itself to the front of Red's mind.

'What does he want?'


Twenty minutes later saw the pair dressed and climbing down the tight fire escape staircase that Green used as a makeshift entrance to his apartment.

This visit had been the first time that Red had ever seen the Viridian Gym Leader's flat – he had to admit, he'd been expecting something slightly more glamorous. The tiny loft was composed of one small bedroom, an even smaller office (where Red himself had been staying), a miniscule bathroom, a den and a very modest kitchenette. When Red had asked Green about his living situation, the taller boy had merely shrugged and replied that he didn't need anything extravagant, and that he had easy access to the gym this way.

Red was both shocked and impressed. Green, the spoiled grandson of the famous Professor Oak, content with a small, minimalist loft apartment, over top of a gym no less.

Red supposed that over the years, Green's training with Chuck, his desire to make a name for himself separate from his grandfather's and his many journeys had helped him to mature and grow. Red hoped that he, himself, had acquired some measure of maturity through his own travels. Indeed, if it was any indication of personal success, Green, who had always taunted and outshone Red during their childhood, had come to respect and trust him. A light, fluttering feeling manifested itself in his chest at the thought of how much he and his ex-rival's relationship had changed over the years, and Red couldn't help but smile.

"What are you grinning about, moron?" Green asked as the two descended the last step and touched down on the damp lawn of the gym.

"Oh, just the great weather!" Red laughed and scratched at the back of his head nervously.

Green arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah," He said, tugging on the collar of his jacket and motioning to the misty rain all around them, "great."

Red's face flushed crimson.

"We-well, I happen to like the rain." He spluttered defensively.

Damn, that had been embarrassing. Stupid Green and his powers of observation. Why had he not remembered the miserable weather they had been having? It was only the end of August and nearly all of Kanto was experiencing weather that would have been better suited for mid October.

"Whatever," Green grumbled irritably, letting Red's moment of idiocy slide, "even if you're crazy enough to like this disgusting, drizzly… shit," he punctuated the word, betraying how uncharacteristically flustered he really was, "We're about to have to endure Ho-oh knows how long with that Carrot-haired asshole."

Green kicked the pavement in frustration and red figured it was best not to say anything and to just follow the disgruntled Viridian trainer's lead. But as Red made to follow Green away from the gym and into the mist, Red caught sight of one of the two large Rhydon statues that Giovanni had placed on either side of the gym's rustic double-doors. Red's crimson eyes locked onto the Rhydon's blank, stony ones and he immediately felt sick, though he wasn't sure why.

"Get a move on!" Green's voice snarled through the rain, which had become much stronger without Red noticing. Fat droplets now striking the pavement as he tore himself away from the Rhydon's gaze and sprinted off after Green.


"Don't test me today, Red. Just don't." Green pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he and Red fell into stride.

Red did feel bad for causing his usually calm and collected friend so much grief, but he couldn't seem to stop the words that were already escaping his mouth.

"You know, I think he's changed – Lance, I mean."

Red felt a vice-like grip clamp down on his shoulder and spin him around to face an irate Green.

"How…" Green started, trying very hard to retain his composure, his tone low and dangerous, "can you of all people possibly say that?" He spat the last words rather harshly.

"I can say it," Red spoke calmly as he removed Green's hand, "because I've seen evidence."

Green laughed sarcastically before turning serious once more.

"Red, he tried to murder you –"

"And since then," Red interjected, "him and the rest of the Elite Four have become a very reputable organization that have dedicated themselves to public safety."

"A front. Simple as that." Green said dismissively, pinching his nose again in irritation and continuing to walk in the direction of the League's entrance.

"You don't know that, Green." Red sighed exasperatedly as he started after his friend, his sneakers sending small waves of rainwater up his pant-legs as his feet collided with the pavement.

"You really need to learn not to be so trusting. People like that ginger crave power, and assuming a seemingly charitable role has earned him a great deal of status – status he could easily use for his own means."

"Green, I'm not saying I like the guy, but he's grown on a lot of people since—"

"You know what else grows on people? Cancer."

"Oh, ha-ha." Red frowned at the uncharacteristic petulance Green was doling out.

"When we get there, I guarantee you that he'll still be the same ginger bastard he was six years ag—ugh!"

Green was nearly knocked off his feet as he walked straight into a slightly hunched, balding man who looked as though he were in his early sixties. The two collided with such force that the elderly man's umbrella was thrown high into the air and landed with a metallic clatter several feet away. A portable coffee-mug the man had been holding fell to the ground, and it's dark contents spewed out onto the sidewalk, blending quickly with the rainwater before being washed away.

"You little punk! Just look what you've done to my coffee!" The man wailed melodramatically.

Green, already having been pushed to his limit that morning, could not take anymore. He exploded.

"What I've done?" He yelled incredulously, "It wouldn't have happened if you'd watched where you were going, you senile old asswipe!"

"Green…" Red muttered warningly, but the man, now over the initial shock of being verbally abused, was not about to leave the argument there.

"You snot-nosed brat!" He had reclaimed his umbrella from the soaking ground and was now brandishing it threateningly at Green, "Didn't your mother ever teach you to resp—"

"Respect my elders, yeah, yeah." Green's voice was bored now; he was more tired than he was angry, "Really, old man. How much more cliché can you get?"

Red was concerned. Green rarely lost his temper to this extent, and he felt rather sorry for the innocent elderly citizen who had just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He just hoped to Ho-Oh that Green would be a little calmer and significantly more polite when dealing with Lance – although, that might be asking for too much.

"Yo-you!" The man stammered. He looked quite at a loss for words.

"Green, c'mon. Let's just go." Red tried gently, "We'll be late."

Green gave a tiny snort, turned on the spot and walked swiftly past Red. Throwing the old man an apologetic look, Red hastened after his frazzled friend, leaving the elderly man to collect the pieces of his traveling mug from the rain-slicked ground.

It didn't take the two long to reach the exceedingly extravagant and beautifully rugged front gardens of the Pokemon League. Even in the pouring rain, the collective imagery of lustrous ponds, the well crafted, goldenrod cobblestone, rocky ledges and tall, sweet, green grass was a sight to behold. Red marveled in the garden's natural beauty – admiring how all the plant-life was overgrown, but tastefully so; the garden's aesthetic effect invoked an air of mystery and nostalgia, as if the objective of the lusciously overrun pathway was to remind challengers of the journey that had brought them to this place – to remind them not only of the numerous dark forests, rocky mountains and choppy seas they had overcome, but to remind them also that they had grown from their experiences, much like the long, arching grass.

Even Green, Red noticed, had lost his annoyed grimace and had adopted an expression similar to his own – a kind of wistful reminiscence.

The two stood there for quite sometime, neither really realizing that their pace had slowed to a stop; both trainers lost in memories. It was only when a wild male Nidoran scurried out of the grass to the left of them, ran up the cobbled path and darted into a nearby bush that the two boys were snapped out of their revery. Red blinked slowly and turned to face Green, who looked slightly embarrassed, however, when he spoke, his voice was cool.

"Shall we continue?"

Red nodded mutely, and the two continued to wander slowly through the garden towards the front entrance.

When at last they had reached the end of the trail, Green glanced at his watch, which read 'one minute past ten' and said, in what Red assumed was meant to be an annoyed voice:

"He's late." The intended harshness of the statement was lost as Green scanned his surroundings again, a far-off expression that was not befitting of the Viridian Leader plastered across his face.

Red didn't blame him, though. He, too, was still feeling the effects of the hauntingly beautiful garden from which they had just emerged.

"Give him some time… It's only one minute past ten." He hadn't meant to whisper, but the statement escaped his lips as a quiet breath, the sound of the rain almost completely drowning him out.

The pair didn't have to wait long. Red's heart skipped a beat as the sliding, glass doors of the League's front entrance slid smoothly open to reveal a stalky figure. He was dressed entirely in dark clothing, with a long, billowing cape strapped to his back, the colour of which exactly matched the fiery-red hair protruding sharply from his scalp. His eyes, set high on his thin, angular face, gleamed a dangerous yellow through the mist.

Red was aware of a lump building in his throat. The scuffle with the feisty old man in Viridian and the alluring mystique of the League's garden had temporarily pushed the anxiety of his and Green's meeting with Lance from his mind but, now, with his former enemy staring him straight in the face, Red would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous.

Beside him, Red could feel Green stiffening as well.

This was it. The moment of truth. Just what exactly did Lance want with them?

"Ah, Green, Red." Lance smiled ominously, displaying a mouthful of slightly pointed teeth. "How nice of you to come."

To Be Continued.