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The sky hung low with heavy clouds, pressing down on the earth like sheets of molten lead. Howling winds shrieked through the air, carrying with them a damp, chilling mist that spread like a curse.
The storm was coming.
Clack, clack, clack!
Hurried footsteps echoed through the long, dimly lit corridor of the underground facility, the noise charged with urgency.
At his workbench, rg's hand trembled. A drop of dark-green liquid fell from his test tube, sizzling as it burned a pit into the stone floor. White vapor rose, sharp with danger.
"Damn it!" he cursed, ripping off his goggles and slamming them onto the table. He turned, ready to storm out.
No one disturbed the Darkstar research division not while he was working.
But before he could reach the door, the heavy tal slab swung open with a screech. A blast of cold air swept in, forcing rg to shiver.
"Zick," he muttered, recognizing the teal-haired youth peeking inside. "Didn't I tell you yesterday? My experint's at a critical stage. Don't bother unless it's life or death."
Zick looked uneasy, his expression oddly serious.
"You haven't checked your phone?"
rg frowned, tugging off his gloves. "What are you babbling about?"
"The organization sent a ssage. Hard to explain—just look."
Grumbling, rg dug a sleek device from his pack and began scrolling. His sarcasm died mid-sentence as his face drained of color.
"...They wouldn't dare..."
Zick only nodded grimly.
"This isn't even my departnt," rg protested. "I'm a scientist. This should be handled by the combat division!"
Zick cut him off with a wave. "Orders are orders. Pack up. The transport leaves in twenty minutes. Don't miss it."
The door slamd shut behind him.
In the silence, the sound of hurried packing replaced bubbling experints. A lone test tube toppled, spilling its toxic green contents in slow, hissing drops.
---
Overhead, the roar of giant tal rotors shattered the sky. Aircraft as black as iron beasts cut through the storm, their hulls rid with frost.
Inside, squads of Darkstar operatives sat strapped in, armored and silent, their belts lined with the organization's standard dark-gray Poké Balls.
One man stood, unbuckling with deliberate violence. His scarred face twisted in fury, muscles bulging beneath his gear as he gripped the handrail. The emblem of a purple spiral, a black hole insignia, burned on his chest.
"Listen up!" his voice thundered over the engines. "Those Magma bastardz stole our base on Ashen Isle. Today—"
The rest was lost beneath the pounding blades.
But the ssage was clear: blood.
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Ashen Isle.
3,760 square kiloters of tropical wilderness lying between Hoenn and the Blue-Silver Sea, facing Roger's Cape across the strait. A dormant volcano, Mount Ragon, towered nearly 3,650 ters on its eastern side.
Though it hadn't erupted in over three centuries, legends spoke of the sky-darkening ash clouds and rivers of fire that once consud the island.
Now, it simred quietly, like a beast waiting to strike again.
Dozens of Darkstar transports circled above the isle but did not descend. They hovered patiently, waiting for confirmation.
From their bellies, Poké Balls dropped open. Crimson light streaked into the sky as flocks of Flying-types erged, cutting through the storm.
A Pidgeot's cry pierced the clouds, the sonic boom of its wings echoing across the valley as it swept low, eyes sharp as blades.
After long minutes, it screeched again the signal was clear.
"Full descent," the commander barked into his earpiece.
Engines roared. One by one, the steel behemoths lowered through the storm, rotors churning the earth below into clouds of dust.
Hatches slamd open. Poké Balls arced outward, releasing a dozen predators onto the soil claws flashing, eyes burning with crimson intent.
Boots struck the ground. Heavily ard Darkstar soldiers filed out in precise formation, rifles glinting cold beneath their helts.
At their head, the scarred commander stood tall, arms folded. His voice cut like steel:
"Search the base. Leave no stone unturned."
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