Resistance: The Rusting of Precious Metal Prologue

Hero. Villain. Everybody has a story to tell. Like an age-old tapestry, experiences become threads that weave together, slowly developing into an incomplete masterpiece awaiting the finality that only death can deliver. Until that day, people are marred by this imperfection, remaining unfinished models-by-design open for improvement and regression.

Nobody, not even the enigmatic Silver Vincentino, is exempt from fate’s most ironclad rule.

Known only through the acts he wrought rather than by title, the infamous assassin, murderer of Cage Aerblight, was thought to be nothing more than a violent criminal.

Only a liar would say they’re unconcerned by their legacy. For who other than the deprived would wish to be remembered for heinous, sinister acts? No medicine can cleanse the taint of murder; it’s scar deep and striking, living on forever in the public conscious.

Yet this man cared little for how he was perceived. Vibrant crimson warmed the cold depths of his testy stare. How long had he been waiting? He had to wonder, left foot pattering against the weathered brick of his foundations as his hair danced fleetingly within autumn wind’s embrace.

Blackened leaves blown from as far as Ilex Forest scattered underfoot, crinkling almost as loudly as the sound of cars that whizzed endlessly across his vision. Damp and bitter, his surroundings were slowly gnawing at his patience, adding depth to his already furrowed brow.

‘I… detest Goldenrod City,’ he sighed, visibly taking his time to pick his words. Usually he didn’t dally when it came to semantics, but when negative emotions were involved he felt somewhat compelled to accurately categorize them.

Dislike was a word saved for when he hadn’t slept much, which probably explained current disposition. Dour and surly, the black rims under his eyes came into full-bloom with the summoning cries of a loud yawn. All damn night, no matter how many times he closed his eyes they would shoot open immediately. His thoughts were just too loud, rousing him despite William’s valiant efforts to do it personally with his insufferably loud snores.

The topic of last night’s thoughts brought him onto his next word. Hate. Gold Heart, the hypocritical, rash, Tauros-headed dimwit who was coincidentally the keystone to his ambitions had plagued his mind. A reflection, an enemy, and soon an essential ally, the boy was everywhere! If karma existed then it deserved nothing more than a slow and brutal death, for somehow the universe deemed him worthy of toil beyond measure.

Sighing, he kicked his shoe upwards into the metal railing with a clang and away from the poor leaf he’d unknowingly been grinding to smithereens. Upon seeing his handiwork he exhaled again, watching as his cold breath drifted into the sky and merged with the grey clouds and tall city spires, invoking a nostalgic hum from his enclosed mouth. They reminded him of days long lost, of times when he could laugh and cry without feeling the burden of an entire world on his shoulders. Those thoughts, that crushingly comfortable weight, brought him to his final word.

Abhorred. Swallowing to prevent the fury that festered in his throat from surfacing, his mind drifted to Kanto, or more precisely, the Indigo League. It was the one entity that Silver could openly detest without feeling like a petulant child. Everything that had happened boiled down to them, and in response his blood followed in suit, searing with equal intensity.

Crimes he had and would commit could never compare to their atrocities, though it wasn’t like he was using them as a measuring stick. First and foremost, Silver acted only by what his moral compass dictated, and he liked to believe he had greater integrity than a group of power-hungry dictators.  
In every step, with every gunshot and snide comment was his will, one that sought an impossible ambition. Palms began to sting as he seized ahold of the building’s railings for additional support, not losing concentration despite the rusted metal that dug into his skin, grazing the flesh. Kanto, even in Goldenrod their influence was as great as ever. He had to stop it, otherwise – spash.

As if time had stopped, Silver’s body seized up on the spot. He’d been disturbed, and that, combined with his grumpy mood, was a surefire way to draw his ire.

‘Will. How many times have I told you to not sneak up on me?’ Instantly, Silver had spun on his heel, shouting moodily with the hint of a yawn and a twitching left eye. Seconds later a nervous tension bubbled between them, one that clearly played on William who seemed to be in the midst of cursing the water beneath his feet.

‘Too many times to count I’m afraid, Master Silver,’ he remarked with a dash of sarcasm. Amusement played on his lips and tone, his back straightening, feet shuffling alongside a silent gulp as he jauntily made for his master’s side where he plopped down on the metal railings with a theatrical yawn.

Don’t even try to pretend you’re tired. Silver internally warned, surveying his partner’s every expression with a mixture of curiosity and scrutiny. How did he smile so much? He had to wonder, almost wistfully jealous of the older male’s ability to let go and be free, unlike himself who was always guarded.

Lids fell solemnly, shutting immediately to trap the shame of his envy. There was no room for such emotions! They’d both experienced the same plight – not completely – but in essence they had. William’s fate and his own had become intertwined that fateful day, back when life was still normal. The memory formed a lump in his throat and a deep longing filled his chest, one that contrasted with his immovable sour frown.

It was on a similar day to this one. Cold, windy and grey, but despite that, when he looked back he had to say that it possessed more colour than he ever thought imaginable. ‘Something on your mind, Master?’ William asked after a few seconds of vacant staring from the redhead, snapping the sleepy assassin out of his daze.

‘Don’t ask me that. You know damn well there is,’ he spat, his cold-nipped cheeks reddened, giving him the look of an embarrassed child as he dislodged himself from the railings and slipped his hands into his pockets. It was stupid, but he wanted to spare the purple-haired man the sight of the wounds he would never see.

The perceptive magician stroked his burn marks under his mask and sighed. ‘Master. I mean, Silver, please tell me what’s on your mind? This isn’t about me sneaking up on you, is it?’

Perceptive. Will was exceptionally good at coaxing out information, but it wasn’t going to work this time, even if his concern-etched tone broke his heart. Silver just wasn’t able to bring himself to talk. Besides, it would be unwise to do so in his current mood. With that in mind he made haste for the exit on the opposite side of the roof, swinging it open before looking back one last time. It was a mistake. In William’s straightened form was sadness that only Silver could perceive, their shared time together giving them a mutual understanding of the other. He sighed one final time, carefully trailing his fingers through his long red hair before speaking up.

‘You snore too damn loudly!’ Echoes of his blatant lie belted through the upper hallway, merging with the vicious clang of the metal door that he’d slammed shut immediately afterwards. There was no need to survey his partner’s response, for he knew what it was already: an amused laugh.

Nothing of their mission would be done today, Silver decided at that very moment. He just wasn’t up to it. Sleep deprived and nostalgia drunk, he allowed his memories to finally flitter back to the beginning. It was true, everybody had a story, and his was one he was going to have to relive again it seemed.

With heavy feet he smiled and descended the staircase, his next stop the dilapidated sewer system of Goldenrod City. Traversing it was simple, even in his current state. Maybe it was what he’d done last time that deterred wild Pokemon from attacking him. Regardless, he was glad, for he was unsure he could fight half-asleep.

Finding his underground headquarters, Silver sighed with sleepy relief and quickly slipped into his chambers, sealing the door behind him. Inside, the room was dark and messy, with a pool of purple and white pyjamas on the floor the most notable inconvenience. At any other time, Silver would be annoyed at Will’s laziness, but right now? He couldn’t give a damn. The bed was all he cared about.

Collapsing face first into the mattress with an inaudible grunt, the red haired heir to Team Rocket quickly fell into the darkness of sleep that silently morphed into what he was expecting. Large spires and grey clouds, Silph Company fourteen years ago, and the day he met William Reynar for the first time.