“Alright, ladies! Let’s double-time it!” the gruff captain shouted amidst hundreds of soldiers scrambling to make it back to the transports. As far as he was concerned, they weren’t scrambling hard enough. He made this clear with another use of his booming voice.

He hadn’t commanded a real mission in years, of course. Unova was enjoying a hard-earned time of peace the likes of which it hadn’t experienced in over two centuries, all thanks to the efforts of their now-retired predecessors. Just recalling the headlines made him wistful.

NUCLEAR AGE BEGINS!

LIMITLESS ENERGY FOR UNOVA!

PRESIDENT ORDERS TROOP HOMECOMING

The Elimination Project, so called because its goal was to eliminate war and famine for the people, had been a tremendous success. Unovan children would grow up having never known war. The brand-new reactors provided abundant energy for everyone in the nation, so there was no longer a reason to invade other countries. Even the invasion of oil-rich Orre had been halted immediately after the first reactor went online.

But perhaps the greatest success of the Project was its warhead. Unova’s missiles were enough of a deterrent to would-be attackers that invasion was impossible. Nations the world over bore witness to the terrible power of a mere eighteen pounds of steel-cased plutonium. They watched as the frontier lands were decimated, the trees were stripped if not toppled completely, Pokémon were vaporized on contact, and the land was irradiated to the point of no return.

‘All this,’ their leaders had said in awe, ‘from one single device?’

‘Yes,’ the Unovans had said simply.

Today, Unova’s arsenal was sufficient to destroy the world thirty times over (or was it thirty-one?), and no one was willing to bet against those odds. Unova and her people would be safe.

But war hadn’t been stopped for everyone. There were still regional conflicts going on around the globe, especially the one in Kanto. This was soon to be the bloodiest war in human history, and would likely involve requests for Unovan aid. But such aid would not come to either nation, for the government and its scientists knew the implications of possessing the most powerful weapon on Earth.

The captain recalled a letter supposedly sent by one of the scientists on the Elimination Project. The story goes that the letter described in great detail the feelings the scientist had about his involvement in the mission and its implications. He had talked with, pleaded with the government, trying to make Unova’s leaders see that Unovan involvement in international war had been eliminated for all but the most egregious offenders of human rights. The success of the Project carried the implication that Unova had been appointed to the world’s incorruptible judge, no longer allowed to act merely in its own interests, but in the sole interest of human rights. After this not unfounded warning, he went on to commend the Project’s success, but doubted that it would be Unova’s greatest. It was a mere stepping-stone to even greater successes, and would lead to the eventual ascension of the human race.

The captain smiled. So many years of Unovan war, finally put to rest by the work of the greatest minds of his time. The Nuclear Age had begun, and no one was happier than he that it had. He was eager to leave military life and get back to his family across the pond. With retirement (and another grandkid) on the way, the path of the warrior had ended for him, as it likely would for soldiers stationed across the globe. It was time to usher in a new age, one of enlightenment, of peace, and of creation.

Snapping him out of his thoughts, a bright young lad ran up to him.

“Captain!” he yelled, saluting.

“What is it?” the captain asked in a world-weary voice.

“Sir! I was wondering if I could ask you a question, sir!” the soldier yelled, the tiniest smirk fleeting across his face. The captain nodded.

“Go ahead, Scout. I suppose I owe you on my last day.”

“Sir! Now that you’ll be retired, does this mean your wife will remember she’s married, sir?” The captain was the tiniest bit amused.

“What do you mean by that, soldier?” he asked.

“Sir! It’s just that she hasn’t seen you for years, and I’m worried that she doesn’t remember you exist, sir!” The soldier’s smirk had grown into a grin at this remark. The captain leaned in close.

“Did Hugo put you up to this, Jake?” he asked quietly. The soldier shook his head.

“Arlen, sir,” he said, matching his commanding officer’s volume.

A broad smile flashed across the captain’s face, but he regained his military composure. “To answer your question, Jake,” he said, “I suppose I’ll just have to remind her when I get home. Is that sufficient?” The soldier looked confused at first, but eventually smiled even wider.

“Sir, yes, sir!” he shouted.

“Now give me three more laps, soldier!” the captain yelled harshly, making sure Arlen heard. The soldier took off running around the training encampment, gear and all. It was customary to punish cases of insubordination, but at this point, it was merely a formality. The captain shook his head, not because more exemplary behavior was expected of his soldiers, but because he knew that Jake could have done better with the insult.

The captain recalled first meeting him at boot camp two years ago. He had shown incredible promise as a marksman, and, if the captain recalled, had been promoted to Scout Sniper in record time. He was capable of remarkable feats of precision with his rifle, such as shooting a half-dollar at a grand. The captain had personally witnessed Jake set the precision record for his company, shooting an inch wide spread at fifteen hundred. Leader Clay certainly knew how to teach shooting.

The men liked him as well, but then, it was expected for a band of cocky, testosterone-laden soldiers to take a shine to one even cockier and more testosterone-laden than they.

It was soldiers like Jake that reminded the captain why he became an officer. The opportunity to mold young, directionless recruits into tremendous wrecking balls of bone and bullets was not one to be passed up. Jake had quite some time to go before he was the perfect soldier, of course, but then again, the world would soon trade its need of perfect soldiers for a need of perfect men.

After today, the captain supposed he would never see Jake again.

“God dammit, Jake,” he said to himself, “I hope you save the world someday.”