N's tall frame sits atop a rock, looking out over the ocean nearby Plasma Castle. He's alone, almost, for his Zoroark is nearby, napping under a tree.

"Are you comfortable?" N asks softly.

To a passerby the noise Zoroark makes would simply be the standard cry of the pokémon, but N understands. He knows his pokémon is telling him how the breeze feels good in its fur. How it's tired.

The so-called King of Team Plasma nods, a small smile twitching on his lips before he looks back out to the gentle ocean in the distance.

It is such a calm day, so quiet. And soon, all his days will be like this. He is going to be the hero... the hero of Pokémon. He will free every last one. Never again will the cruelty of humans ever effect these precious creatures.