“Hold still, you little bastich. If you make me start over again…” Brandon trailed off without finishing the threat.

The eevee wilted and went entirely limp. When her trainer stabbed her with the syringe, she let out a shudder and a faint mewing sound but didn’t try to fight or get away.

“Good, good. Now wasn’t that easy? I mean, you wanna be the very best, don’tcha?” Brandon asked.

“Eevee.” Eevee agreed weakly.

Brandon slammed back a big gulp of whiskey. “Look,” he said angrily, “I don’t like it any more than you do. Ever since the league became about money and sponsers and blood… Well, we gotta stay competitive… I mean, it’s dangerous out there. Without this, you might get hurt real bad or even die.” Tears began to leak down the gaunt lines of his face. “I don’t wantcha to die, Eevee.”

“Ee-eevee.”

The old trainer snorted and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. Patting the little fox-like creature, he said, “I know, I blame Chairman Ash too. He didn’t just sell out, he sold us all out.”