Chapter 34

As the ghost girl's spirit fades, Emmet whirls to face Agatha, eyes blazing with outrage. 

"You used me as bait while you sought vengeance!" he shouts, jabbing an accusing finger at her. "You knocked out my pokemon and nearly got me killed!" 

Agatha's pained face melts into an expression of sheer indifference as she arches an eyebrow, meeting his glare coolly. "I did what was necessary for the greater good. Yes, I could have potentially killed it alone." She pauses, holding up a hand to cut off Emmet's attempt to interject. "But doing so risked alerting the Black Fog and enabling its escape. By occupying your strongest pokemon first, I ensured a prolonged battle to enact my trap. And it clearly worked."

Emmet gapes, hands clenching into fists, he would be impressed by how quickly her demeanor changed but his rage was on the front seat. "So you intentionally handicapped me?" His voice rises to a yell. "I'm not an idiot, it was not to teach me anything, just to play a part in your sick games! Did you just assume I would be able to hold my ground with just Clefairy and Pidgeot?"

Agatha's eyes flash dangerously at his tone. "I assumed no such thing," she retorts, gripping her cane until her knuckles turn white. "I KNEW that had all your pokemon been present, you likely could have defeated it yourself, so I needed to change that. A calculated risk on my part yes, but one I deemed acceptable and worth taking. You holding yourself against the Black Fog was inconsequential, I would provide support should the situation get too dire." 

"Acceptable?" Emmet shouts incredulously, throwing his arms up. "I almost died! My pokemon almost died!" His hand drifts toward his pokeballs, shaking with anger.

Agatha slams her cane down with a crack that echoes through the chamber. "But you didn't die, foolish boy! The ghost is vanquished, I got my revenge, you still draw breath! So cease your pathetic whining!" 

Emmet trembles with rage, eyes blazing. "You used me! You're supposed to be part of the honorable Elite Four, yet you manipulated me like a pawn without any regard for my life!" He raises his finger at her face angrily. "What kind of person does that?"

Agatha draws herself up, exuding an aura of command, or maybe ghost energy, making him take a step back involuntarily, which only made him angrier. "When it comes to vanquishing such abominations, there is no cost too high!" Her voice rings with conviction. "I took the path necessary to destroy that vile creature once and for all. And I would do the same again without hesitation." 

Emmet clenches his fists, psychic energy sparking around him unconsciously. "You think that justifies your actions, you hypocrite? You claim moral high ground after callously endangering us? For what? To slightly decrease the odds of The Black Fog escaping? Don't think me a fool by saying you did it for the greater good and whatnot." He shakes his head in disgusted outrage. "I can't believe I ever admired you and the Elite Four!"

Agatha's eyes blaze, her cane cracking the floor as she slams it down again. "Foolish, arrogant child! Fine, want the cold truth? I did what I must to avenge my niece's soul. You think me or the League needs your admiration? That we exist to please the rabble? Our job is to keep things afloat, the rest of the time we do as we wish." She turns away, posture rigid with finality. "This discussion is over. Be grateful you escaped with your life thanks to my intervention"

Trembling with rage at the nerve of the old had, Emmet struggles to restrain his runaway psychic power. Sparks dance along the stone walls as the floor begins to crack. He wants to scream at this stubborn, unapologetic woman. Clearly no words will make her acknowledge her reckless disregard for his wellbeing. 

With monumental effort, he reins in his abilities. Eyes cold, he vows never to trust Agatha or the Elite Four again. They are not the honorable heroes he once thought.

As Agatha's form melts into shadow with a huff, departing without another word, Emmet shakes with outrage. "Fuck you!" he shouts at the spot where she vanished. His voice echoes through the crumbling mansion ruins. 

Still simmering with anger, Emmet begins exploring his surroundings, needing to distract himself before he brings the whole place down in a psychic explosion. 

"Arrogant old hag," he mutters, kicking a broken haunter statue viciously across the debris-strewn floor. She acted so high and mighty, but her 'noble' actions nearly got him killed. And she even tried to twist it to make her look like the good guy!

He enters what was once a grand library, now collapsed into moldy wreckage. "Reckless bitch," Emmet grumbles, levitating a huge fallen bookcase with a flick of psychic power. Priceless tomes spill out, pages long since rotted away.

Agatha knew her Gengar could easily kill the Black Fog, yet she forced him into a deathmatch instead. And for what? To make sure the odds were in favor of her succeeding on Some personal vendetta? Emmet hurls a disintegrating book against the wall with an aggrieved shout, leaving a dent in the stone.

In another room, Emmet finds more mummified corpses, their bones poking through tattered robes. Grimacing but growing desensitized, he presses on. At least these poor souls aren't suffering anymore, unlike him at Agatha's whims. Did he call her a bitch yet? "Fucking Bitch"

He passes a hallway littered with cracked pokeballs, their former inhabitants long departed. Agatha didn't hesitate sacrificing his team either. Emmet's hands glow as he crushes the pokeballs to dust in psychic fury. 

That self-righteous old bat dared lecture him about responsibility? She's the one who used him as cannon fodder! Emmet punches a wall, skinning his knuckles but not caring. 

This place is a waste, just like that ancient Elite Four fraud. Emmet storms on, searching for any remaining secrets while releasing a steady stream of invectives against Agatha.

In a wrecked bedroom, the moldering canopy bed collapses as Emmet slams the door. The Elite Four were supposed to be the best of the best, moral pillars of the community. Yet it was all a lie.

Kicking aside the termite-ridden remains of a wooden dresser, Emmet enters the ruins of a grand dining room. "The League was definitely complicit too", he reckoned while muttering to himself, "letting Agatha get away with using people like pawns. They're no better."

A massive crystal chandelier lies shattered on the long dining table. With a roar, Emmet uses his mind to fling the jagged shards, blowing out the cracked windows. Fuck Agatha, fuck the League, fuck all of them!

Moving on, Emmet finds a once-opulent ballroom, the checkered marble floor now pulverized and strewn with rubble. If this is how supposed heroes act, he wants no part of it. Never again.

A dusty piano rests crookedly against a cracked pillar. Emmet tilts it upright with psychic grip, then savagely smashes the keys, filling the room with horrid discordant notes. The sounds somewhat satisfy his simmering rage.

Agatha will pay for this someday - he'll make sure of it. Emmet crumples a marble statue of an elegant couple dancing, grinding it to powder. Arceus help whoever crosses him next.

After leaving behind more wreckage, Emmet enters what was likely the mansion's grand foyer. A massive crystal chandelier lies broken on the debris-covered floor, like his trust in the Elite Four after today.

Cursing under his breath, Emmet heads upstairs, levitating crumbling steps telekinetically so he can ascend. No more being a naive pawn - from now on, he looks out for himself.

On the second floor, Emmet pauses, noticing light filtering through a half-collapsed wall. Beyond lies a ruined library, with a huge rotten bookcase tipped over. Something about it draws his gaze.

Stepping through the rubble, Emmet peers closer. He can see that behind the bookcase, the wall looks partially recessed - perhaps a hidden passageway?

"Huh, interesting," Emmet focuses psychic power through his hands, disintegrating the rotten bookcase silently to dust. The clouds part to reveal a dark corridor leading off into the mansion depths.

Glancing around warily, Emmet sends a pulse of psychic energy down the passageway, scanning for threats. Sensing nothing, he steels himself and steps into the inky darkness, a ball of fire glowing over his palm as he exercises his mastery over Fire energy. 

After several minutes of descending, the passageway levels out. Emmet finds himself entering a large laboratory, filled with strange equipment and scientific instruments.

There are no runic circles or ritualistic elements as the state of the ruins and the amount of horror movies he watched might indicate - instead the room looks like some kind of research facility. Tables are covered in glass vials, notebooks, and other research detritus.

In the center of the lab, Emmet notices a pokeball sitting inside a glass case on a pedestal. Approaching cautiously, he uses his psychic powers to shatter the case.

As Emmet extends his psychic senses towards the pokeball, he receives a faint impression of a ghost-type pokemon contained within. But rather than a clear read, the signature seems muted, as if the pokemon is in some kind of stasis.

Emmet lets out a small breath of relief. If this pokemon had been trapped in a pokeball down here for ages without stasis, it likely would have gone insane from isolation. This way, it was spared that horrific fate.

Gently picking up the pokeball, Emmet decides not to release the pokemon until later, once his whole team is healed and ready to intervene if the ghost is hostile. For now, it's safest kept in stasis.

Pocketing the pokeball securely, Emmet makes his way out of the secret underground lab, sealing the passageway behind him, maybe he will come back here with more time in the future, as he won't be telling the League about it, this place was as good as his. Provided the old hag did not bring a team to scavenge the place, but given that she was here on personal business, it is unlikely she would involve any official institution.

Having searched the crumbling mansion ruins thoroughly, Emmet realizes he's unlikely to find anything else of interest. And without any pokemon to protect him, he's risking too much by exploring further.

He can't help laughing ruefully as he remembers he does have one perfectly healthy pokemon left - his shiny Feebas. He really needs to find time and a large body of water to start training her properly, perhaps even evolving her into Milotic and showing her off once he is as strong as a 8 badge trainer?

"Speaking of evolving, maybe I can use his my psychic powers to do resistance training for Feebas? Or see if Clefairy has mastered Gravity enough yet to use it for aquatic training?" He muttered out, breaking the ominous silence that hang around.

Feeling tired, Emmet finds one of the few chairs not too rotten to support his weight. He sits down and gets a snack and water from his backpack, brainstorming training ideas as he eats.

After resting for a few minutes, Emmet leaves the main building and unto the grounds where his pokemon killed the ghost horde and sends out his battered Pidgeot.

"Pid-", his pokemon gives a mournful cry of pain upon materializing. Emmet's heart twists with guilt and sympathy as he gently strokes Pidgeot's head.

"You were awesome in that fight, Pidgeot. I'm so proud of you," Emmet says softly. Pidgeot nuzzles his hand weakly. "When you're healed up, we'll increase our training. Next time, you'll be strong enough to defeat an opponent like that on your own."

Pidgeot trills at him affectionately. Emmet smiles and gets out one of the Max Potions he bought with Leaf in Celadon City. "This might sting a bit, but it'll help you feel better quickly."

Slowly and gently, Emmet begins spraying the Max Potion over Pidgeot's injuries. The bird pokemon flinches but bears the pain stoically. Emmet murmurs comforting words as he works.

After fully applying the Max Potion, Emmet recalls Pidgeot to let the medicine take effect. He feels awful seeing his pokemon so battered. They will be ready next time.

With Pidgeot healing and nothing left to investigate here, Emmet begins the trek out of the decrepit mansion. His thoughts drift back to Agatha and anger simmers within him again.

That arrogant old bat deliberately put him in harm's way for her own agenda. And she didn't show an ounce of remorse! Emmet kicks a loose stone bitterly.

He remembers how he once admired the Elite Four, saw them as noble heroes and role models. How foolish and naive he was. They clearly don't deserve his respect.

The League is complicit too for enabling Agatha's reckless behavior. Emmet shakes his head in disgust. He won't be their pawn again. From now on, he relies only on himself.

Finally exiting the crumbling ruins, Emmet pauses and looks back at the decrepit mansion. He wonders what kind of place it was before the Black Fog claimed it as a lair.

The sheer number of mummified trainers indicates this was no normal civil building. And the small mummified remains hint at something far more sinister having occurred here. Not to mention the hidden laboratory deeper below.

Strange that this place was clearly abandoned to the Black Fog's devices many decades ago, likely long before Professor Oak ended the Johto-Kanto War and established the Indigo League. 

And what was the bitc- Agatha's connection to it all? She clearly only came to destroy the Black Fog now, though her Gengar must have been powerful enough to succeed much earlier. So what suddenly motivated her to take action after all this time? 

Emmet sighs, shaking his head. There's little point in useless speculation. Right now, he needs to focus on getting his injured pokemon healed up properly, filling his empty belly, and then sleeping for at least two straight days to recover from this ordeal.

At that thought, he grins wryly, imagining how Leaf will flay him alive when she sees the state he and his pokemon are in. He can picture her yelling at him, tiny fists waving angrily as she chews him out. The image makes him chuckle despite his exhaustion.

He walks briskly into the forest for a bit to put some distance between himself and the mansion. After a while, Emmet figures enough time has passed for the Max Potion to start working.

He releases Pidgeot in a flash of light. "Pidgeot!" The bird pokemon looks markedly better, standing tall and crying out with vigor. Emmet checks him over thoroughly, confirming his wounds are knitting together nicely but are still evident. He tried using Heal Pulse to better heal his pokemon, but whatever damage Pidgeot still had, it was beyond his version of the healing move and seemed to have no effect.

"Looking good, buddy!" Emmet says, patting Pidgeot's neck gently. "What do you say we fly back to Celadon City and get you to the Pokemon Center?"

Pidgeot cries his name enthusiastically, spreading his wings and showing no signs of lingering pain. Not that the bravado fooled Emmet, there was no way that Pidgeot didn't have anything else hurting, there was a limit to what Max Potions could heal after all.

He climbs onto Pidgeot's back, taking care to avoid putting pressure on any sore spots. Pidgeot beats his powerful wings, stirring up a breeze. "Alright, let's get back so you can finish recovering," Emmet says.

Emmet smiles, savoring the flight. He knows an epic Leaf-inspired scolding awaits, but for now, the wind in his hair and Pidgeot below him make everything feel right in the world. Even though he knew it was a white lie he was telling himself.