The island didn't feel real. It was a jagged shard of land forgotten by gods with a fog so dense it felt like it had physical weight. The terrain was treacherous—black, razor-sharp rocks tearing through the mist—and the sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs was muffled, creating an unnatural, oppressive silence.
The Shadow Unit was assembled. Five elite squads, men and women clad in lightweight tactical armor, faces covered, nerves wired tight. There was no idle chatter.
Nero stood at the front, adjusting his tactical gloves. The Executive looked like a statue, but his eyes scanned the perimeter incessantly. Viper approached, passing Nero's Weavile who was, absentmindedly sharpening its claws.
"Gear check complete," Viper murmured, his voice low so as not to cut the silence. He hesitated for a second. "Nero... do you think the kid's plan will work?"
Nero stopped adjusting his glove. He looked toward the invisible horizon, in the direction of Kanto. "Enzo created the perfect chaos," Nero replied with unshakable conviction. "The League is staring at Pallet Town. The path is clear. I believe it will."
"Touching."
A third voice cut through the moment. George, the leader of Delta Squad, approached. He walked with an arrogance that clashed with the tension of the mission, a cynical smile playing on his lips as he twirled an Ultra Ball on his finger.
"Executive?" George said, stopping two steps from Nero. "Do you really think a Seventeen-year-old's plan is going to hold back the entire Elite Four? That's a lot of risk for a theoretical reward." He took a step closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "My offer still stands..."
The air around them froze. Before George could finish his sentence, Nero moved. It was a blur of contained violence. Nero's hand shot out and grabbed the collar of George's armor. With surprising brute strength, Nero lifted the Delta Squad leader off the ground, George's boots dangling uselessly in the air.
The smile vanished from George's face, replaced by a choked gasp of panic.
"George," Nero's voice came out icy, colder than the island wind. He pulled the man close. "This will be the last time I warn you. The next time I hear you questioning the plan, or trying to undermine my authority... it will be the last time you speak. Is that understood?"
George grabbed Nero's wrists, trying to relieve the pressure on his throat. He saw the darkness in the Executive's eyes and realized it wasn't an empty threat. "E-easy... Boss," George stammered, raising his hands in feigned surrender. "Just trying to help... It won't happen again."
Nero held him for a second longer, letting the fear settle, and then dropped him with disdain. George fell to his knees, coughing and massaging his neck, but the look he cast at the ground wasn't one of regret; it was venom.
Nero turned his back and addressed the six squads. His voice projected, authoritative and clear.
"Listen up! We have three primary targets that serve as keys to the final objective. Synchronization is vital."
He pointed to the cardinal directions shrouded in fog.
"Alpha Squad, with me to the South. Our target is Regice." Nero turned to the right. "Gamma Squad, you take command of Zeta Squad. Head East. Your target is Registeel." Finally, he looked at his right-hand man. "Viper (Omega Squad), you take responsibility for Delta Squad. Head North. Your target is the Lesser Regirock."
Nero paused, ensuring everyone understood the gravity. "The goal is to eliminate the targets simultaneously. If capture is possible, proceed with capture. But the priority is to neutralize the threat. Do not hesitate. Kill if necessary."
"When the three guardians fall, we regroup West to face the Primary Guardian: the Titan Regirock. Keep TR Devices on and open channel. I want constant reports."
"Yes, Sir!" The men responded in unison.
The groups began to separate, checking weapons and releasing the first scout Pokémon. Nero used the movement to pull Viper aside, away from the others' ears.
"Viper," Nero whispered, his eyes fixed on George's back as he moved away toward the North.
"Yeah?" Viper responded, sensing his friend's tension.
"Keep an eye on George," Nero warned, his voice grave. "He's been acting strange. Too calm, too interested in leadership. Don't trust him. Not for a second."
Viper looked at Delta Squad and then nodded, clapping Nero on the shoulder. "Don't worry. If he tries anything funny, my Arbok will eat him alive before he can blink."
"Be careful," Nero said.
Viper smiled, the smile of someone who had survived everything. "See you in the West."
Viper turned and ran to join his team and George's, disappearing into the dense fog of the North. Nero watched him go, a bad feeling weighing heavily in his stomach. He shook his head, focusing on the mission.
"Alpha Squad," Nero ordered, releasing his Hydreigon. "Let's hunt."
The temperature in the Southern Zone didn't just drop; it plummeted. The fog here crystallized into tiny floating diamonds, and the ground was slick with centuries-old permafrost. Nero and the Alpha Squad moved in formation, their boots crunching loudly on the ice. The cold was biting, penetrating even their thermal tactical gear.
"Readings are spiking," the Alpha Squad Leader reported, checking a handheld scanner. His breath came out in thick white clouds. "It's close. The thermal signature is... absolute zero."
Suddenly, the glacier ahead of them cracked. A massive chunk of blue ice detached itself from the cliff face. It didn't fall; it floated. Seven yellow dots illuminated on its faceted face, blinking in a cryptic pattern. A sound echoed through the canyon—a distorted, electronic screech that grated against their bones.
"Regiiiiiiii-ice..."
Nero tapped his TR Device. "South Target located," he spoke into the comms. "North and East, report."
Static. "Gamma Squad in position. Target Registeel acquired," came the voice from the East. "Omega Squad here," Viper's voice crackled, sounding slightly out of breath but steady. "We have eyes on the Lesser Regirock. Ready to engage."
Nero narrowed his eyes at the floating titan. "On my mark," Nero commanded. "Three... two... one. Begin."
Nero threw three Ultra Balls into the air simultaneously. "Hydreigon! Blaziken! Weavile! Tear it down!"
The three Pokémon materialized with a roar. Regice didn't move its body. It simply flared its lights. A beam of concentrated blue energy—Ice Beam—shot out. It didn't aim at the Pokémon; it aimed at the air. CRACK. The humidity in the air flash-froze instantly, creating a massive, jagged wall of ice between Nero and the titan.
"Alpha Squad! Suppressing fire!" the Squad Leader yelled. "Go, Magmar! Houndoom!" The grunts released their fire-types, unleashing a barrage of Flamethrowers against the ice wall. Steam hissed violently, obscuring the battlefield.
"It's not enough," Nero muttered. "Blaziken! Flare Blitz!"
Nero's Blaziken screeched, its body igniting in blue and red flames. It launched itself like a missile, crashing through the ice wall with the force of a meteor. Shards of melting ice exploded outward.
Regice hummed, floating higher, preparing a Zap Cannon. But Nero was faster. "Weavile! Brick Break on the joints! Hydreigon! Dark Pulse!"
Nero's Weavile was a blur of black and red speed on the ice. Being an Ice-type itself, the cold didn't bother it. It skated across the frozen spikes, dodging the titan's slow movements, and slammed its glowing hand into Regice's knee joint, shattering the crystalline armor.
Regice stumbled in the air. That was the opening. Hydreigon, hovering above the battlefield like a three-headed nightmare, opened all three mouths. A tripartite beam of dark energy slammed into the Regice, driving it into the glacier wall. The impact shook the entire southern coast.
The titan slumped, its yellow lights flickering dimly. "Hold fire!" Nero ordered.
He walked forward, the snow crunching under his boots. He pulled an Ultra Ball from his belt. "Sleep," Nero whispered. He threw the ball. It hit the Regice with a heavy thud. The titan was sucked inside. The ball shook violently on the ice. Once. Twice. Three times. Click.
Nero picked up the Ultra Ball. It was freezing to the touch, the metal casing frosted over from the creature inside. "South Target secured," Nero spoke into the comms, his voice cutting through the wind. "Status report."
"East Target acquired," Gamma Squad's leader replied instantly, the signal clear. "We are moving to the rendezvous point."
Nero waited. "North Target?" Nero asked. "Viper, report."
Static. The only sound from the channel was the hiss of white noise.
"Omega Squad. Delta Squad. Report immediately," Nero repeated, his grip tightening on the TR Device.
Silence. No confirmation. No "Target down." Just the empty sound of the dead air.
The Alpha Squad Leader looked at Nero, concern visible behind his tactical visor. "Sir? Should we move North to assist?"
Nero stared at the device for a heartbeat longer. His gut told him something was wrong. But the mission parameters were absolute. If they delayed, the Titans would regenerate, or the central chamber would lock down. They had to take the Guardian.
"No," Nero said, his voice terrifyingly calm. He clipped the device back to his belt. "We stick to the plan. If they aren't responding, they are either busy or..."
He didn't finish the sentence. "All units," Nero broadcasted on the general channel. "Regroup at the Western Cavern. We take the King now."
The regrouping point was a natural amphitheater of rock, dominated by the gaping maw of the Western Cavern. But the entrance wasn't open. Blocking it stood the Titan Regirock. It was a monstrosity of stone and earth. Its single red eye pattern pulsed with a low, seismic hum that vibrated in their teeth.
The Gamma Squad Leader approached Nero, looking battered but triumphant. He handed an Ultra Ball to the Executive. "East Target, Sir," the leader said, wiping dust from his visor. Nero took the ball, he thought. The weakest of the island, but a legendary nonetheless.
Before he could give the order to advance, movement from the northern ridge caught his eye. It was George. The Delta Leader stumbled down the slope. His armor was scorched, and he had a cut on his forehead, but considering he had just come from a battlefield, he looked suspiciously... intact. He was alone.
"Executive..." George staggered down the rocky slope, stopping just short of Nero. He was panting heavily, his armor scorched—a performance designed for maximum sympathy. "It... it was a slaughter up North."
He looked down, refusing to meet Nero's gaze, his voice trembling with feigned devastation. "The intel was wrong. That thing was a monster. We couldn't hold it. Viper... Viper fell. He didn't make it."
Nero felt the world tilt. A cold spike of adrenaline and grief pierced his chest. Viper? Dead? The denial screamed in his mind, but his training choked it down. He didn't offer comfort. He didn't ask how. He asked the only thing that mattered to the mission.
"The target," Nero demanded, his voice tight, like a wire about to snap. "Did you secure the Regirock?"
George shook his head slowly, looking at the ground. "Negative, Sir. We had no choice. It was killing everyone. Viper ordered the final strike before he... before the end." George looked up, lying effortlessly. "It's rubble, Sir. Destroyed."
Destroyed? A legendary lost. And his best field commander dead. Nero's gloved fist clenched so hard the leather groaned audibly under the strain. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rip George apart right there to find the truth. But the Titan roared behind him. The mission was still active. The grief would have to wait.
"Regroup," Nero ordered, turning his back on the liar, his voice devoid of humanity. "We take the Titan. Now."
The survivors—Nero, Alpha Squad, Gamma Squad, Zeta Squad, and George—formed a perimeter. "Engage!"
The battle was a massacre from the first second. The Titan Regirock roared, a sound like grinding tectonic plates. It slammed its fists into the ground. Stone Edge. Columns of sharpened rock erupted from the earth like missiles. Two members of Gamma Squad were too slow; they were crushed instantly, their screams cut short by the tonnage of stone.
"Spread out! Don't bunch up!" Nero screamed. "Hydreigon! Dragon Pulse! Blaziken! High Jump Kick!"
The squads moved with desperate precision, firing everything they had at the Titan. But amidst the chaos, there was a different kind of threat. George released his Tyranitar. "Tyranitar! Rock Slide! Aim for the legs!" George yelled.
The Tyranitar roared and unleashed a landslide. But the aim was "clumsy." A massive boulder, supposedly aimed at the Titan, ricocheted off a cliff face and flew backward—straight at Nero's blind spot.
"Watch out!" a grunt yelled.
Nero didn't flinch. He didn't even turn around. His shadow suddenly elongated, twisting into a sinister shape. Gengar emerged from the darkness of Nero's silhouette. With a wicked grin, the Ghost-type caught the boulder and crushed it into dust mere inches from Nero's head.
Nero turned slowly to look at George. George looked horrified. "My bad, Boss!" Nero stared at him for one second. The Gengar hissed. "Focus George," Nero said, his tone promising murder later. "Or my Gengar will eat you whole."
The Titan roared again, preparing a Hyper Beam. Nero's eyes glowed violet. He entered "War Mode." He stopped caring about safety. "Gamma Squad! Distract it on the left! Sacrifice your Golems if you have to!" Nero ordered ruthlessly. "But Sir—" "DO IT!"
The Gamma grunts obeyed, sending their heavy rock types into the line of fire. The Titan's Hyper Beam vaporized one of the three Golems in a single blast, creating a massive cloud of dust. It was the opening Nero needed.
"Hydreigon! Draco Meteor!" Nero screamed.
The three-headed dragon didn't fire into the sky. It dove through the smoke, right into the Titan's face. The energy gathered in its three mouths, glowing like a dying star. BOOM. The explosion was cataclysmic. The Draco Meteor detonated directly against the Titan's head. The massive stone guardian crumbled, its rocky body shattering under the force of the dragon energy. It fell to one knee, the red lights flickering and dying.
Nero stood amidst the debris, panting due to the pressure. He pulled an Ultra Ball from his belt. He didn't hesitate. He threw it.
The ball hit the Titan. The massive creature was sucked inside in a beam of red light. The ball landed in the crater. It shook once. Thud. It shook twice. Thud. It shook three times. Click.
Silence fell over the Western Cavern. The Guardian was captured.
The dust from the Titan's fall was still settling outside as Nero and the surviving squad leaders stepped into the darkness of the cavern. The air inside was stale, heavy with the scent of ozone and something far older—something that tasted like copper on the tongue. Nero activated his flashlight. The beam cut through the gloom, revealing walls that were not natural rock. They were smooth, polished obsidian, covered from floor to ceiling in intricate carvings. Unown Glyphs. Thousands of them. They seemed to writhe in the peripheral vision, whispering secrets of a time before humans walked the earth.
"Don't look at the walls too long," Nero warned, his voice echoing in the vast space. "Focus on the objective."
They reached the center of the chamber. There, bathed in a single shaft of natural light filtering through a crack in the ceiling high above, stood a simple stone altar. It was crude, unadorned, and ancient. But what lay upon it was unmistakable.
A fossilized red stain. To an untrained eye, it looked like a patch of iron oxide or rust. But to Nero, who had spent years around Psychic-types, it was blinding. The stain wasn't dead. It pulsed with a faint, rhythmic hum of psychic energy. It felt warm, even from three meters away. The Origin. The genetic blueprint of all Pokémon. Mew.
"Photograph everything," Nero ordered, his voice hushed. "Every angle. Every glyph."
The squad leaders moved with practiced efficiency, their cameras clicking rapidly, the flashbulbs illuminating the eerie sanctum in strobes of white light.
Nero approached the altar. He unslung a heavy metallic case from his back and set it down on the floor. He opened it, revealing a high-tech interior lined with shock-absorbent foam and cooling units. He pulled out a portable laser cutter. "Stand back," Nero commanded.
He adjusted the frequency. A thin, blue beam ignited with a high-pitched whine. With the precision of a surgeon, Nero began to cut into the altar stone, carving a perfect square around the fossilized blood. The rock sizzled, turning to molten slag where the laser touched, but the red stain remained untouched, protected by its own latent energy.
Sweat beaded on Nero's forehead. One slip, and the DNA could be compromised. Minutes felt like hours. Finally, the square of rock clicked loose. Nero deactivated the laser. He used a pair of gravity gloves to lift the stone sample without touching it. It floated in the air, humming softly.
He lowered it gently into the containment case. The foam hissed as it molded around the artifact. The cooling units engaged, locking the sample in stasis.
Nero closed the lid. CLICK. The sound of the heavy latch locking echoed through the cavern like a gunshot. The psychic hum was instantly cut off, sealed behind inches of lead and titanium.
Nero let out a breath, resting his hand on the cold metal of the case. "Target secured," he whispered. The mission was done.
The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple and orange. The wind had died down, leaving an eerie silence over the island. Nero stepped out of the cavern, the heavy case containing the Mew DNA secured on his back. He looked at the surviving squad members—battered, bloody, but alive.
"Mission accomplished," Nero announced, his voice raspy. "Board the choppers. Return to base and treat your wounded."
The men began to move, relieved to leave this cursed rock. But one figure lingered. George, the Delta Squad Leader, approached Nero. He was covered in dust, his armor scuffed, but Nero's sharp eyes noticed something—he had no deep cuts. No limps. For someone who had just survived a massacre, he looked remarkably whole.
"Executive..." George said, his voice trembling with a performance of grief. He took off his helmet, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "I'm sorry. I was the only one to make it out. Omega Squad... they were decimated." George looked down at his boots. "Viper... he saved me at the end. He pushed me out of the way of a rock slide, but he... he got buried. I tried to dig him out, but..."
Nero stared at him. The story was plausible. The emotion seemed real. But Nero's gut twisted. It felt wrong.
"Get out of my sight, George," Nero said, his voice low and dangerous.
George nodded frantically, putting his helmet back on. "Yes, Sir." He turned and jogged toward the waiting transport.
Nero watched the helicopters lift off, their rotors chopping the air. He didn't board. "Sir?" a pilot radioed. "Go," Nero ordered. "I'm staying. I'm going to retrieve our dead."
Nero was exhausted. He had spent the last eighteen hours moving rocks, his hands raw and bleeding inside his gloves. He stood in the center of what used to be the battlefield of the Omega Squad. It was a scene of horror. Craters, shattered trees, and the bodies of fallen Pokémon.
Nero knelt beside the corpse of a Golem that belonged to one of Viper's grunts. He activated his scanner. "Cause of death..." Nero muttered, analyzing the massive crack in the rocky shell. He frowned. It wasn't a crush injury. It wasn't blunt force trauma from a Regirock. It was a clean, surgical cut. And there was a residue of violet energy clinging to the stone. Night Slash.
Nero stood up, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Viper doesn't use Dark-types," Nero whispered to the wind. "And Regirock certainly doesn't know Night Slash."
He moved to another body—a Rhyhorn. Marks on the neck. Crunch.
The conclusion hit him like a physical blow. "This wasn't the Regi," Nero realized, his eyes narrowing. "This was murder."
Suddenly, a faint sound broke the silence. A weak hiss. Nero spun around. He ran toward a pile of slate and heaved a heavy slab aside. Underneath lay Viper's Arbok. The serpent was in a sorry state. It was nearly sliced in half, its purple scales matted with dried blood. But it was alive. It raised its head weakly. It flicked its tongue, recognizing Nero. It hissed urgently and began to drag its broken body toward the dense forest line.
"Show me," Nero said, following the Pokémon.
They moved through the trees for ten minutes until they reached a hidden clearing, far away from the main impact zone. And there, slumped against the trunk of a dead pine tree, was Viper.
Viper looked like a corpse. His skin was gray. His uniform was soaked in blood. His left arm was gone. Severed just below the shoulder, the wound was a mess of mangled flesh and bone. Next to him lay his TR Device. It wasn't just broken; it was crushed. And stamped into the metal casing was the clear print of a combat boot. A human boot.
"Viper!" Nero sprinted across the clearing, sliding to his knees beside his friend. Viper's eyes fluttered open. He tried to speak, but only coughed up a splatter of dark blood.
Nero acted on instinct. He grabbed a Poké Ball. "Weavile!" The Ice-type materialized, looking at the scene with wide eyes. Nero ordered. "Cauterize the wound. Now!"
Weavile hesitated for a fraction of a second, then obeyed. A beam of concentrated cold hit the stump of Viper's shoulder. The sound of freezing flesh was sickening. Viper screamed—a raw, guttural sound that tore through his throat—before passing out from the shock. But the bleeding stopped.
Nero grabbed Viper, pulling him into a sitting position against his chest. "Stay with me," Nero commanded, shaking him gently. "I'm getting you out of here."
Viper's eyes opened one last time. They were unfocused, glazing over. He reached up with his remaining hand, gripping Nero's collar with surprising strength. He pulled Nero down.
"George..." Viper wheezed, the whisper barely audible. "...it was George..."
Nero froze. The confirmation didn't make him scream. It didn't make him cry. It made him silent. A vein popped in Nero's forehead. His face went completely blank. A cold, terrifying rage washed over him, turning his blood to ice. His body trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer effort of not exploding.
He grabbed another ball. "Alakazam." The Psychic-type appeared, sensing its master's murderous intent. "Hypnosis," Nero ordered flatly. "Put him to sleep. Slow his heart rate down to the bare minimum. Keep him alive."
Alakazam waved its spoons. Viper's body went limp, his breathing shallow and stable. Nero stood up, lifting Viper effortlessly in his arms. "Teleport," Nero said. "Coordinates: Cerulean Warehouse. Chain jump until we get there."
The warehouse was peaceful. The hum of the industrial lights was the only sound. Proton and Ronnie were lounging on the old leather sofa, watching a replay of the Pokémon Contest on TV. Ronnie had a bowl of popcorn on his lap.
POP. The air in the center of the room cracked like a whip.
Ronnie jumped a foot in the air, sending popcorn flying everywhere. Proton was faster—he had his gun drawn and a Poké Ball in hand before he even registered who it was.
Nero stood in the middle of the room. He was covered in dirt and dried blood. In his arms, he held Viper—unconscious, pale as death, his left side a mass of frozen gore where an arm used to be.
"Holy shit!" Ronnie yelled.
The commotion drew Enzo out of his tent. He stepped into the main area, freezing when he saw the scene. He looked at the ice covering Viper's shoulder. Then he looked at Nero's face. Nero wasn't looking at Viper. He was looking at Enzo. His eyes were like two black holes—void of light, filled only with a promise of violence.
"Executive Nero..." Enzo asked softly, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "What happened?"
Nero didn't blink. "You were right."